They say personality is clearly established by the age of three.

This happens to be the exact age of my charges. Today I found myself imagining what sort of people they will become. The little guy is super musical. And I don't mean this in the ridiculous way that some parents brag about vocabulary or early reading to indicate extra-ordinary intelligence. I mean that he seems to pay attention to music immediately and begin tapping his foot and humming along as soon as he can catch the tune. He seems fascinated by instruments, like he's trying to sort out how they work. He sat with Eric today watching my "how-to-banjo" video today for almost fifteen minutes, and I had to pry him away because we had to leave. I thought that was fascinating, since there are very few other activities that hold his interest for that long. I can imagine him ten years from now sitting in his room listening to mp3's of the Beatles and Bob Dylan and practicing chords on his guitar. I can't imagine how much this feeling would be amplified if the child is from your own flesh.

In other news, I like the idea of turning nouns into verbs for certain purposes. Today, Eric and I walked by Ethel's Chocolate Lounge and he pointed out their motto "A place to chocolate and chit-chat." High time for this concept to be embraced. Here are some potential favorite new phrases "Its time for me to go banjo." "Don't interrupt me now. Can't you see I'm busy chocolating?" or "Looks like a day to umbrella".

Jessica arrives tonight, hurrah! I can't wait to see her. I've been feeling so contended lately, and having her in Chicago in the middle of this perfect weather is like the shiniest reddest cherry on top.

My wedding shoes arrived today and I can't decide if they are going to pinch or not. Also, I want to dye them blue and I can't decide what shade of blue. I think that is the last article of clothing I need to purchase for our big party, unless I find some wonderful piece of jewelery to wear or some awesome gloves. I think choosing your clothes for the big day makes you feel like you are actually getting married a great deal more than the ring because you start to picture yourself from head to toe.

Last night I freaked out (literally freaked out people!) because of all the crap in our house. I've been trying to root out things, probably due to the change in weather. I've been putting my sweaters and coats up for next winter, and thus trying to determine which are worth saving and which should be sent to the goodwill. Here is my inner monologue:

"Do I want this wool sweater for next winter?"
"You aren't going to have a next winter Becky. First Africa, not too winterish, and then China after winter is over already."
"But I got this for like ten bucks when I was working at the Gap."
"Well, is it really worth packing it up into a big box and hauling it to Minnesota to sit in mom's basement for a year and then hauling it back to wherever the hell we are moving to and throwing it out there?"
"Probably not."

Okay, well that didn't seem so hard. Except that it never stops at the winter clothes. Suddenly in this new mindset, I look around our house and all I see is mountains of clutter. I look at the cool striped beach bag that I bought for about six bucks when I was working at the Gap, and then I think,

"Well, I should just send it to the Goodwill. It was only six bucks. "
"But maybe one of my girlfriends could use it. It's still in great shape. I could mail it to Katie with this Easter basket I've got going for Louise. But it will probably cost more than six bucks just to mail the damn thing."
"Maybe I should just keep it. I'm going to be here this summer after all. I might want a cool beach bag."
"Or maybe I can sell it, and then I can use the money to score another cool beach bag when I get back from our trip."
"But, wait, after seeing firsthand people who are dying because they don't have clean water, am I really going to want this stupid beach bag? These people I'm going to be living among don't even have a change of clothes and I can't let go of a fucking beach bag. How ridiculous am I?"

And then I have a meltdown. Like flapping my hands around and crying and getting all flushed and aggravated. It sucks. I can't be mentally moving out of my house for the next six months. I'd really like to try and enjoy my possessions since it won't be long till I have almost none. But I'm constantly struggling with it. Its not even really an issue of getting rid of the stuff, its just where its going and trying to make value judgments on all of it in the framework of how I will want to live when I return from this trip, which of course is impossible because it is going to be core shifting. Fuck! Its driving me crazy and then I get frustrated with myself for being so...whats the word...umm, neurotic? Well, yeah.