Life's too short to finish anything

It seems like I never have time to write. Between teaching, and driving, and friends, family and my dear husband, something's gotta give!

I don't know if I've ever been this busy or this happy. I will follow that statement with a definition of "happy," or at least my definition. Happy: A feeling of joy and ecstasy mixed with uneasiness over happiness coming to a screeching halt because of death or tragic illness; giddiness followed by worry and sometimes guilt that I'm so happy while others are suffering; often excited, seldom relaxed, always optimistic.

I'm still convinced that it is impossible to be an intelligent, alive human being and be completely happy. There are just too many tragic things going on in the world each day for me to be completely happy. Let's just say that this is as good as it gets, at least for me.

I drive so far each day to and from work but knowing where my day will end up makes everything worthwhile. I used to think that time in the car alone with yourself is a great place to analyze your life. Now I'm learning Italian. I remember "shrink nights" with Michael where we would analyze his life. These days, it's hard to find anything wrong with our lives other than the amount of time spent apart so we listen to NPR, watch Jon Stewart, and get pissed off at the state of the world. This is what happens as you start to age.

I think a lot about the future. I try to stay clear of my deep-rooted fear of death and illness and instead, think of a time when Michael and I will have the time to walk hand-in-hand in the city, read more books, write more, and spend time with Eliot, Riley and London, our family and friends. I can't imagine ever being bored with Michael. We call each other several times a day, e-mail notes of love to each other and even talk on our cellphones as we drive side-by-side on our way to work. We run to each other's arms when we get home and collapse in each other's arms at night. We love our jobs but we love each other more so the idea of retirement is wonderful.

It's hard to imagine not teaching and Michael not practicing medicine but the idea of a life unknown is filled with excitement and adventure. Imagine waking up when the sun tells you to and catching an afternoon play! Michael and I figure that it will take the rest of our lives just to eat at all the restaurants we've missed in New York. There are art galleries and old book stores and little cafes all over the place. Stacks of books to read, recipes to cook, towns to wander in, people to meet, music to hear, new wines to try, languages to learn.

Enter death. It all sounds so lovely until the dark side takes over my brain. You know, the "what ifs?"
So I go through life giving it my all. I give my all to my students and my family and my husband. I race through life like someone is holding a gun to my head, just in case there isn't enough time for all the things I want to do. I read at night and write when I can and tuck away recipes and start lots of projects. I cut pictures out of magazines of places I must see and things I must do. Michael does the same. By Friday, our desks look like a cyclone came through the house, and we laugh. We sift through all of it and vow to tackle some of it the next weekend. When the weekend rolls around, the piles have doubled so instead of tackling one of our projects, we get in the car and take off for the beach. We sip champagne and talk about all the great stuff we're going to accomplish when we have time.