"I would pay at least $3 to hang out with you."*

I have the strange feeling that my readership is about to spike directly in proportion to the number of law students I know who are starting classes this week. (To those who wish to supplement Mergers and Acquisitions with "What Jessica Learned on Her Summer Vacation": call me! I'm queen of the $3 date!) The moving season is such that I find myself leaving to-do lists on other people's voicemails and balancing out my quiet times and yoga sessions with major caffeine-induced freak-outs. Arm-flailing, box cutters, and racing hearts abound, and the time I have for writing I am attempting to put towards more lasting endeavors.

For my friends given to prayer, please keep Bryan in mind as he moves to Boston sometime within the next few weeks. There have been several delays already, and the "not knowing" business has been frustrating. I would also appreciate prayer: I'll be looking for work, taking classes, and interning at an asylum/refugee legal clinic while attempting to begin preparations for the bar exam next July. Email me if you'd rather pray for specifics.

In the meantime, bring on the apple crisp and fall wedding season!

*Bryan, via Google Chat. To his credit, this line is grossly taken out of context.

Where we are.

"As long as there is hunger, poverty and treatable disease in the world, there is work for us to do. As long as nations fight, and [humans] hate, and corruption stalks the corridors of power; as long as there is unemployment and homelessness, depression and despair, our task is not yet done, [sic] and we hear, if we listen carefully enough, the voice of God asking us, as he asked the first humans, 'Where are you?'"

-Jonathan Sacks

Where am I?

I am in the process of becoming available. I am fighting myself. I am fighting with God. I am in line at the grocery store wishing I looked like that. I am watching bad TV. I am making faces with my cousin in the mirror. I am gasping for breath. I am dying for your love. I am in awe. I am non-plussed. I am making dinner and drinking wine and filling my gas tank and growing my hair and staring too long and working for nothing and stuck, stuck, stuck in all of the busyness that Not Caring engenders -- no, requires. I am making excuses. I am overcome. I am grieving for us all. I am not writing enough. I am writing too much. I am going back to school. I am buying a kite. I am dreaming big. I am moving out. I am refusing to listen to the Lie that says I need what I don't, that I want what I can't, that I can't do as I must. I am giving in to temptation. I am sleeping in. I am packing up. I am shipping out. I am looking up at the clouds. I am going to the beach. I am making them laugh. I am willing to forget. I am feeding the selfish beast inside. I am dancing. I am playing with children. I am loving the Ditty Bops and staying up too late and becoming acquainted with the good life of books, tea, and friendship. I am missing my family. I am endlessly traveling someplace. I am learning to love football and tacos and bowling and backpacks filled with tin pans and extra pairs of socks.

I am waiting to become more than this.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

by Jessica Curtis

Indulged my grandmother by bringing over KFC (we're classy like that)for the introductory meeting between Bryan, my grandparents, and...dum dum dum....my dad, who said, and I quote, "Bryan can stay."

Made blueberry and banana pancakes, drank questionable coffee, and had devotions on the back patio with Bryan on a lazy Friday morning we didn't expect to spend together.

Fashioned a 50-foot slip 'n slide out of plastic sheeting, dish soap, and spit. Simultaneously turned the Schnittjers' backyard into an environmentally protected marsh.

Saw my first hummingbird! Panned M. Night Shymalan's _Lady in the Water_. Studied for, took, and have no idea how I fared on the MPRE.

Introduced Bryan's parents to the seedy side of Ben Folds Five. Told myself for the millionth time that I must find a way to buy a new piano for my Boston apartment.

Fell in love with Bryan's family again. It's actually rather impossible not to: who wouldn't fall in love with a woman juuust over 60 who feels no compunction about belly-flopping down a slip 'n slide on a weeknight? Who wouldn't cherish the sight of her husband floating gently down the Delaware in a yellow tube, wearing pants for a bathing suit and carrying a blue umbrella to keep out of the sun? Cemented my role as Bryan's other escort for Becca's wedding. So far, his grandmother is still his best girl. Cruised down the boardwalk with the Schnittjer clan eating fair food. Rode a Ferris wheel at sunset on the Jersey shore and told jellyfish who was boss. Took silly pictures and told stories about the good old days.

Broke out my very first bikini. Hey, I know.

Hung out with four of the East Coast's rising stars amongst the eleven- and twelve-year-old set, making costume jewelry and discussing the respective merits of Hillary Duff and Raven Simone while reading Tiger Beat.

Lost my Yves Saint Laurent sunglasses in the Delaware River. Sorry, Jackie!

Got some really good news. Felt completely at home. Returned, ready for action.

"Eez zat a catch phrase or epilepsee?"

Everything about this picture makes me happy. This coming week, we celebrate the one-year anniversary of our (first) visit to Rwanda and the equally momentous anniversary of our transatlantic love affair. This is Bryan's picture, of course. I am finally caving into the pressures of the modern world and considering buying a digital camera, but for now I'm perfectly content to steal his photos as quickly as he can say "Shake 'n bake, baby!"