In twenty-four hours, I will be in Hoboken, New Jersey, settling in the “spare room” of Sam’s new apartment and cooing over Miss Megs. Her hair, I’ve been assured, is still delightfully long and poofy and she still adores her toes.

In twenty-four hours, we’ll finalize plans of what we will see over my seventy-two hour visit. We’re attempting to fit in a Broadway musical, a 2 hour boat tour around the island, a stroll through central park, a visit to Gray Papaya (I’ve been spoiled by the Milwaukee brats, I’m not sure that New York’s dogs can live up to it), a museum or two, seeing another friend (who’s husband is visiting for the weekend, so they may not be around), and lots and lots of baby time.

I’m still packing. Have another load or two of laundry to do. Just finished eating (I love corn). Trying to decide if I should bring my laptop (long trip without it, but want to be light on the luggage). Decisions, procrastinated decisions.

I’m on psychiatry consults this month. My coworkers have called this “great immersion therapy” for my phobia. We’ll see. Immersion or not, I decided I couldn’t do it without meds. I’m hoping that it’ll be better through a camera lens, but I’m not sure. Hence the back up, so I don’t have a melt down in the middle of the street. I’m still worried and on the verge of hyperventilation if I think about it too much.

New York, New York. Here we go!