I'm feeling a little silly posting something like this - it tends to have a little too much overdramatacism attached to it, and I've heard so many comments of "You're so young! Don't WORRY about it!"

I have reached what I think is as close as I'll get to a crossroads in my career path. And it's been a long time coming - my professor in undergrad told me that I seem to be interested in what appears to be a musical buffet, and I can't decide on my main entree. I could teach, I could be in an orchestra, I could play chamber music, I could research. BUT, as it turns out, I can't successfully do all these things. And this bums me out, because I would really like to.

For a few months (which is probably not nearly enough time) I focused sincerely on orchestra auditions. And then it hit me that at the moment, teaching my kiddos is the most rewarding part of my day. I thought "I'll go get a doctorate," and then I could teach in the college system somewhere. But is that actually what I want? Or should I keep pushing ahead with the students I have, trying to get them ready for bigger auditions and better positions? (It may not surprise you to learn that I've grown quite attached to them.) Of course, this also precludes my desire for educational outreach a little bit. Researching and practicing pieces on a theme and then performing a set of lecture recitals sounds absolutely dreamy to me.

It's frustrating as well, because with all my wedding planning (which I'm also enjoying!) I have a mighty full brain. It's close to max capacity, and I think after the wedding, I'll have oodles of free brain space to fill. And yes, I realize I'm mildly comparing my brain to a computer hard drive. It's not an unreasonable analogy.

I am getting married in 10 and a half weeks. Holy crap.

I'm not nervous in the least. Sure, I'm getting the typical anxiety dreams and such, but they're never about cold feet or Tom forgetting to show up or something. No, they're about things that would NEVER happen. Like my niece saying she just didn't feel like being the flower girl anymore. Or Tom and I getting lost in the hotel and missing our own ceremony. Or our photographers getting pissed off because I did not look model-y enough to be a bride.

Shit, what if any of those things DID actually happen?

The most amazing thing is how sneakily the date is sneaking up on us. Tom and I recently celebrated five years of being together. It was a great milestone to reach. However, the whole night was just an example of how much we've grown as a couple. I felt like we slinked through the ODS building without a stumble, floating through as if we could each anticipate the next step of the other. We held hands without looking at them ahead of time. Stealing a kiss in the elevator, catching a drink at the bar, and sighing with content at the view from the thirtieth floor all went without a hitch or a second thought at what the other may be doing next.

And now we're getting married. I just don't think things will change all that much between us when we get back home. It's a big party for our family and friends, and an excuse to vacation nicely in Denver. And after that? We'll go back to coming back to the apartment after work, taking our respective places in the living room (me on the couch, Tom on the recliner) and checking out some of our shows on the TV while eating whatever concoction we felt like whipping up that night. Correct me if I'm wrong - I think this is already marriage. The rest is just paperwork.

Maybe after we get married, we can frame the paperwork and hang it somewhere to remind ourselves of this change in our relationship that I'm very excited about and yet don't forsee as much of a change. Anyone have any insights?

So far, I've eaten today:
Goat milk yogurt with pomegranate (thank goodness I finally figured out how to get the seeds out of these things!!)
A smoked salmon and cream cheese sushi roll

After my $8.99 purchase of a toaster, my next plan is to fire that baby up and finish off the rest of my homemade tzatziki sauce along with some quinoa tabbouleh atop a piece of gluten free toast.

I'm just impressed with myself! Not to get too sentimental here, but being diagnosed with celiac really has opened my eyes to the wonderful world of food out there. When I ate anything and everything, I didn't have to look to far to find something I liked. I tended to stick to the stuff that worked for me and my taste buds. So when a lot of those things are suddenly not options anymore, you find yourself looking harder to find things that delight the tongue. And in the process, you end up discovering foods that weren't even a twinkle in your eye before.

I'm eating WELL, here. In fact, tonight, Tom and I are making burrito bowls a la Chipotle right here at home. We've been doing great with cooking lately. We improvise, we steal recipes from our friends, and we imagine how to make the stuff we eat at restaurants all the time. (Which we'd end up having to modify ANYWAY.) And reading posts like the ones over at the gluten free girl website make me crazy inspired to try new things. (Of course, Iron Chef America also gets me inspired... just a completely different source.)

I tell you, if someone ever says to you, "Look, the bad news is that you have to be diagnosed with an auto-immune disease. The good news is that you get to pick which one!" Pick celiac. It's so doable, and frankly, I'm eating a much more balanced diet than before. I guess I pretty much have to.

I know you probably woke up this morning thinking to yourself, "What is stressful, frustrating, and beautiful all at the same time? Seems like something Casey would know the answer to..."

I do, and it's pictured above.

It's not frustrating because it's unplayable. It's frustrating because it's NEARLY playable. I ALMOST sound really good on it.

But not quite.

This photo was right outside the Keller auditorium as I left my last Nutcracker performance of the season. As you can see, there's very little distinction between the roads and sidewalks here.

The bad snow started a week ago. All my students were cancelled this week. I've only left the house a few times, and now we're supposed to get yet another two inches of snow tonight. It's fine for a while, until we realized this bad weather is inching dangerously close to Christmas Eve, when we have a flight booked for Colorado. We are starting to get nervous about leaving on time.

I also think I'm starting to go slightly stir crazy. I think I'd just like to get out and take a walk tomorrow. You know, bundle up in my winter garb and venture out, just like the good old days in Chicago. Except not nearly as much eat-your-face temperatures.

Updates on the bunker situation as I get them.

Giddy!!

I can't post what Tom's Christmas present is, lest he read it here and the surprise be ruined.

But I am INCREDIBLY proud of myself. I am one hot fiancée.

For all you non-Portland readers...

I am not complaining... TRUST ME. I would take Portland weather over Chicago weather ANY DAY.

But, as I understand it, this kind of thing just doesn't happen here.

Tom and I awoke on Sunday morning, still discussing the plan to take me downtown to my Nutcracker performances. I stumbled out of bed and peeked through the blinds. Then, chuckling, I pulled them up to show Tom the treat that was outdoors: SNOOOOOOOW!

At that moment, a whole inch had fallen on the ground, and it was still snowing big, fat, luscious snowflakes, the wind whipping them around - supposedly to increase the panic that was about to ensue.

See, Portland just doesn't get snowstorms like this. People who grew up in Portland and never ventured elsewhere don't really know how to drive in the snow. And the city doesn't have a fleet of snowplows to take care of such emergencies. Every once in a while, you'd see a truck drive by on the news, dropping gravel, but other than that, people pretty much stayed off the streets. Except for a slight bit of hustle and bustle around the Keller to see the Nutcracker, Portland was pretty ghost-towny. And school cancellations were flying off the charts by 5PM.

Off one inch of snow. One inch!! One inch in Colorado means whipping out the good sneakers to walk to school, and leave the ones with duct tape holding them together at home.

Of course, Colorado has a very different type of snow. It's just snow (not icy usually), and an average of 300 sunny days a year usually melt it off pretty fast. Portland's humidity and moisture content turn the roads into a pretty thick sheet of ice - all it takes are a few tires to pack it down on the road. There are lots of chain and studded tire rules here, especially for the freeway. And when Tom and I took the truck into Portland, we saw many, many unfortunate and abandoned cars on the side of the road that just couldn't make it up the hill. Not having lots of snow perhaps means not knowing that your basic 2-door sedan just won't cut it up Barbur Boulevard.

Right now it's calm outside, though the snow and ice still remain. My students are cancelled for tomorrow, however, as most school districts here are taking another day off. And we're expected to have another heavy snowfall come Wednesday. It's been an interesting, bunker-style situation. Should be a slow Christmas shopping week as well... and that's just weird.

Of course, the snow sure is getting me in the Christmas spirit. It's not sneaking up on me like it did last year. Now I've got the inkling to make hot chocolate, but this was the first GF recipe that I could find. No agave nectar or stevia in my pantry - I'm a bad, bad celiac. I think a trip to Whole Foods tomorrow is worth braving the ice sheet.