I know that I have a cold.  My clients seem to like it though, probably because of the sultry voice and the tendency to listen more than I talk. 

I know that I have only 9 days left to: buy presents, wrap, bake cookies, finish decorating and find holiday spirit.  Looks like it is time to reset expectations, narrow my scope and start delegating to the elves.

I know that I feel amazingly abundant (in between wheezing and coughing).  Chris is back safely in the States, Don is gainfully employed and liking it, our four-month-old Lab is housebroken, and our finances are running opposite to the national economy.

I know that I am in for a long ride on the menopausal roller coaster.  But I have found a silver lining to the extended mental vacation and wacky metabolism:  I can’t remember anything long enough to worry about it and I can eat all the Christmas cookies I want and still be ten pounds underweight. 

I know that the next time I go to the gym I am likely to need a paramedic to get me out again. 

I know that, if I die tomorrow (not, mind you, that I have any goals set around that), people will attend my funeral.  This was not necessarily the case 10 years ago, so I guess I’m on the right track.  Now to fill a stadium…