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In a post-9/11 world, when you hear that there’s a huge national security announcement coming late at night on a Sunday, it’s easy to think the worst.

Nuclear? Natural? Asteroid?

National security didn’t prompt panic like this a decade ago. I wouldn’t have called my parents, texted my brother, contacted my best friend. But as I know how many people flooded phone lines to say goodbyes on September 11, I wanted to cover my bases. “Just in case” is a reality now.

A man gave the command that changed life as we knew it and ushered in that reality. So while I wish Wolf Blitzer had asked his White House sources tonight if he could report that we didn’t need to panic, I felt pride when I heard that that man was dead.

Osama bin Laden is dead. It feels good to say it.

It’s hardly an even trade. This is one person, compared to the thousands killed in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania; and the military and civilians killed in the hunt to track him down. There’s a ripple effect that spreads from each of those dead to their families, friends, acquaintances. Then you consider the people living and working in New York that day. The people who enlisted. The people who worried about a draft. It expands out to touch so many.

It feels strange to celebrate a human being’s death. But he was more monster than human. And while I’m not running out to celebrate in the streets, I am sitting on my couch, watching Wolf Blizter break down the military operation, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

It’s nice to get some good news for a change.


There is a new blog that I’ve started populating with posts, most of which have been Bruins-centric as of late (’tis the season). But there was something really nice that happened at the Bruins game tonight, and I thought that I’d use that as a way of welcoming you over.

So, with that, click on over to read “Formerly Firefly.”

The question that’s coming up a lot is, “How are you feeling?”

The long answer:

Imagine a ten-minute span. During that span of time, I shift from:

  • giddy, little-kid-lying-in-bed-on-Christmas-morning excitement
  • feeling of doomsday fear that something’s going to go wrong between now and when I take my place in the pack of 45,000
  • superwoman confidence
  • jitters

Now repeat this, over and over and over again, and imagine that this is how I’ve been – nonstop – for the last week and a half. And add to that things like bursting into tears while watching a photo montage of the 2008 Chicago Marathon, figuring out what I need to pack for the run and for my long weekend in Chicago, and planning for run-related trips for next year. But imagine a great deal of excitement. More tears than I’d anticipated. Lots of water being consumed.

The short answer:

I feel ready.

Which of the following did I do recently?

A) See David Gray in concert
B) Attend a Cubs game at Wrigley Field
C) Make a family member cry by taking her onto the field at Fenway before her first Red Sox game
D) Skate on the Bruins home ice at the TD Banknorth Garden
E) See Vampire Weekend in concert
F) Attend the premiere of The Town
G) All of the above

Answers in the comments. Show your work.

I went through the whole weekend thinking that something that is supposed to happen next Sunday was going to happen this Sunday.


Note to self: Think about investing in a book. In this book, you will write down the dates and times of adventures that await you. We shall call this book … a datebook. And it shall help you from looking and feeling blonder than you actually are. It shall be glorious.

Back in November, I offered myself a challenge:

I believe in giving myself challenges. As such, I decided that I would end my tenure as a 28-year-old on a high note so as to challenge my 29-year-old self to bring the A game. And how much higher can you get than the 103rd floor of the Whatchu Talkin Bout Willis (nee Sears) Tower? … OK, 29. You’d better figure out how to top the top of the world. You have 365 days to do it, so get to it.

Dear Self:
I think I figured out how to do it. Stay tuned.
See you on the flip side–quite literally.

Know what’s lousy? Getting sucked into Game Seven of the NBA Finals, to the point that you’re shocking yourself by shouting (expletives) at the television during a neck-and-neck fourth quarter that ends not only with Boston losing, but with the sight of Bill Russell handing the MVP trophy to Kobe Bryant.

And after all that, you go to to read up on how sad Boston’s just become…

…and you read that the Simon and Garfunkel concert for which you have tickets–the one that would cross off the top act on your musical bucket list–has been postponed.

Indefinitely. With refunds to come.

I know these are first world problems. BUT STILL.