The thought that people will soon be reading Sculpting Anna is at once exhilarating and absolutely terrifying. As soon as I flipped the calendar page to August, my stomach filled with that roller coaster feeling of slowly chugging along toward what you suspect is the drop off, although you can't know when the floor is actually going to be yanked out from under you or even see what is on the other side. All you can see is blue sky up ahead. So each day, my cart inches toward the precipice at a painfully slow and agonizing rate, and my fingers tighten around the safety bar.
D's in the cart with me, of course, but, unlike me, she's got her hands up in the air, her seat belt unlatched, and a wide and silly grin plastered on her face. She's ready to fly. She's fearless. And I'm just slightly, perhaps manically, panicked. Yes, I'm that rider. You know the one--with her eyes shut tightly, her knuckles white from squeezing the bar, and her brain racing with questions like When was the last safety inspection of this coaster? or Will being flown from the seat and falling seven stories to my death meet the life insurance company's criteria for accidental death benefits?
But, regardless, we can't stop it now. There's no getting off. We just have to wait for gravity to do her thing.
Look at what was waiting for me when I arrived home from work today!
And we're off...