Apartment in view.

As Bainwen posted, we now have an application for an apartment. Excellent area, nice solid apartment, basically everything I want. If it were closer to MUO, I would be there already. ;-)

It's strange, though. I was stuck for so long- applying to med school in '04 and getting shut down, applying to med school in '06 and getting shut out- that the pieces finally are moving is amazing. Two weeks ago, the acceptance came, and now I have an application to leave the only home I've ever known.

Soon. Less than a month, if all works well, I load up the truck and get what of mine is coming with to my new home. Less than a month, and I'm out in the world. If we want raw cookie dough at 3AM while watching MST3K, we can!

Pass the cookie dough, my love. It's time. :-)

New boots- now to add miles. :-)

My old set of Wolverines finally fell apart- I've been shaking sand out of the left one since Saturday- so I went and got new.

Red Wing 202s, Size 10EE. Apparently I'm Bigfoot. :-p

They fit like a glove and are ready for woodland ninjing. Time to hit the trails and see what happens!

Oh. My. God.

Got a letter today in the mail. Medical University of Ohio, School of Graduate Studies- the MSBS program I applied to.

I tore it open, and I think my mom will forever be hard of hearing in one ear.

"Dear Casey, it is my pleasure to inform you..."

BOOOOOOOOOO-YAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I got in! :-D

As promised, I return.

As I promised, I am back, with a new entry. :-)

The other day, I was doing a little bookkeeping with some of my collections. Updating my rosters on my coin collection (I will finish that Silver Eagle set someday!), giving the more elderly samples in my pocketknife collection a quick wipe with an oily rag, letting my hands play.

As happens a lot, I ended up with the oldest knife in my collection in my hands, and the one that means the most. It's a pretty elderly stockman, somewhere around a century old, and pretty worn down. The blades wobble and flex, the handle shifts slightly as I press it into my palm, the old silver shield stands proud, high above where it should be. No collector would give me much for this- a no-name maker in poor condition.

Yet, it's the one that would never be sold.

Why? It was my great-great-grandfather's. Why are the blades so worn? Because my grandpa's earliest memories are of his grandfather carving with it, and using one of the little blades (so small even then) to scrape out his pipe. That blade is worn down to toothpick levels of size, but that's not all. The master blade? Thin and weak from years of carving, from whistles to walking sticks.

I never knew him. My grandfather gave me this the winter before he died, with the strict instruction to never let it go. I won't.

In its way, this old knife reminds me of Grandpa himself. Worn, but still sharp, even to the end.

We're all like that, I think. A cherished piece in a grandchild's collection someday, some worn memento of a life lived. That knife has its scars. So did Grandpa. Someday, my grandson will have it, and think of mine.

That's not bad. :-)

Just a late musing, folks. Don't mind me.

Lest y'all think I've vanished...

Thought I'd pop my head in and say I'm still here. :-) There's a post dancing in my brain, but I'm too tired to let it fly right this second.