In just under 48 hours, I'll be at JFK, dressed to the nines. J and I are at long last going on our honeymoon, but the fine folks at Orbitz decided not to seat two passengers whose tickets were purchased in a single order next to each other. It made perfect sense to some algorithm-writer somewhere, I'm sure. The fine folks who answer the phones for AirFrance/Delta can't seem to do anything to help us (and yes, we've tried internet channels as well), so our only chance at starting things off right seems to be to show up looking particularly classy, and beg the gate agent for an upgrade. I can probably cry if I have to, I'll just have to revisit the Friday Night Lights series finale in my head for a minute.
Travel circumstances aside, I am SO excited for this trip. The 12 days we're gone will be the longest stretch of vacation time I've taken since before starting grad school, and the longest stretch of time that J and I will have spent together since I moved to NJC in July 2011. It is, to put it mildly, long overdue.
In anticipation of the upcoming lune de miel, I have been working my butt off this semester. In the past 7-8 weeks, I wrote and submitted 3 grant proposals and a review article, started teaching a brand new class of my own creation (my 2nd!), and brought a post-doc on board. I am exhausted, but happy. It took a little while to ramp up, but the lab's moving along at a really nice clip now, we have some super cool data, and we are just about ready to start writing two bona fide research papers!
It's all very exciting, but let's not get ahead of ourselves, here; before all that, J and I are going to eat the shit out of France. We will eat without shame; we will eat without fear. We will eat like there's no tomorrow, like it's going out of style, and like our lives depend on it (they do). Brie. Bouillabaisse. Steak au poivre. Croissants. Macaroons. Escargots. Haricots verts. Moules. Frites. Royale w/ cheese (JK).
Au revoir, mes amis! And wish us bonne chance on the upgrade attempt.