One more week and I'll be out of Christmas space with nothing left to say but "I'm sorry, the flights are all sold out." And hey, how about that Federal Government of ours declining to bail out United Airlines, eh? Maybe they'll finally revise their business plan which seems to be based on seriously outdated cash flow models. Those of you holding tickets on United, fear not. They'll keep flying while in the early days of Chapter 11. I wouldn't buy a ticket for April, though.

Meanwhile, someone put down five grand to go to Cabo for the holidays so I am earning my keep this week. But that was virtually my only sale of the day even though I took twenty calls. The fact that I can get up to 155,000 points on one game of Bookworm means I have way too much time on my hands. So I'm doing something I would not otherwise do: I'm making personal calls. My bosses know, of course, you can hear everything that goes on in the office. I don't make personal calls normally but I'm running out of time, caught in the riptide of the semester. It's getting pretty wild now.

I phoned my doctor and rescheduled so I don't have to go to Palo Alto on my day off after my finals. I reconfirmed multiple appointments. I phoned the guy who currently owns my graduation present to see when it'll be ready for me to take delivery; I had to leave a message and he hasn't called me back. I called Kepler's to request four copies of Lynn's book Pink Think be put aside for me. I asked her to autograph them for me at the recital so I can send them out as Christmas gifts, it wouldn't do not to have them on hand. I called in an order for Chinese take-out tonight so John could pick it up, meet me at the bookstore, and drive me home -- I still think it's ridiculous that I can't get decent Hunan in my own neighborhood and have to go to Menlo Park for it. Oh, and I called John to see if our mortgage refinancing got locked in at the good rate; it did, finally, so that's a relief.

Then I sent myself notes: order veggie tray from Monte Mangia for recital, pick up flowers tomorrow night, make program for guests, wash covers for chairs to minimize pet hair, find Music Dictionary for Piano final. I mailed my sister her birthday present. I'm six weeks late with that, holy cow. Bought snowman stamps while at the post office, and must remember to find leftover Christmas cards soon or there won't be any point to this. Or I could cave in and buy cute cards. Time or money? I'll think about it after the recital.

I was good tonight when I finally got home. Eat, walk the dog, do laundry, read several short stories in the latest Mammoth Book of super cheap short story collections and wish strongly for a time machine. This one's all Egyptian mysteries. I must have at least five Mammoth Books of historical detective short stories. It's a quick fix of my favorite authors while waiting for them to come out with more novels.

Later: practice, practice, practice. Not bad, I think I'll be okay Saturday. And if not, heck, everything's so short I'll just play the pieces again and get it right! I have no shame! Booze makes me daring! Wait, no, I'm not going to be drinking before the recital, that's after. I bought rum for the drinks in my Tiki glasses. Right! Need mixer! Dang it, better email myself that reminder.

Sleep has been elusive but I'm not bothered by it. Almost ready for Saturday. When my recital's over I won't play the piano again. History can claim my full attention for the final week and a half. Meanwhile, I have a million things to do. The tide is running faster and faster and there's no hope of getting out of the current. I don't want to, anyway. I'm exhilarated by the pace.

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