Spring Break Reads

So. I believe all of you have just about reached the less-than-a-month point until Spring Break. (Some readers will be lucky enough to be hopping planes to Florida and Mexico as early as next week. As I gaze out my window at the windy, snow-covered parking lot behind Legend's, I can pretty much describe my feelings towards you in three words: pure, unadulterated jealousy. The thought that anyone will be able to wear sandals next week without fear of frostbite is certainly making the green-eyed monster rear its head). Anyways, for a lot of you, the rapid approach of Spring Break probably means increased time on the elliptical and an attempted avoidance of your old friends: carbs and chocolate. However, there is another aspect to Spring Break prep that you should keep in mind: book selection. If you're lucky, you will be spending hours upon hours on those long stretches of white-sand beach, with nothing more to do than read a mindless, fun book and sip a jumbo strawberry daiquiri out of a swirly straw.

Here are my Spring Break reading suggestions:

1). Something Borrowed by Emily Giffin: Rachel and Darcy have been best friends since childhood, with Rachel always in the role as good girl and doormat, and Darcy as the over-the-top, domineering friend. Rachel is all set to play maid of honor in Darcy's wedding to Dex--that is, until she ends up in bed with Dex after one too many cocktails the night of her 30th birthday. Rachel realizes she has loved Dex all along, and Dex seems to care for her too, but plans for his wedding to Darcy also continue at full speed. This book essentially epitomizes the term "Beach Read." Buy it.

2). Dead Until Dark by Charlaine Harris: The HBO series True Blood is based off these books. I'm sure you're thinking: vampire books = beach reads? Really? YES. I love the show, and I love the books, but they are pretty dissimilar. The books fall under more of a dark comedy genre. Throughout the series, heroine Sookie Stackhouse battles everything from werewolves to sadistic fairies, all while juggling more supernatural love interests than I can count (I, personally, am rooting for Eric, the vampire). The books are fast, engaging and fun: definitely worth it!

3). Match Me if You Can by Susan Elizabeth Phillips: Looking to dip your toe into the romance genre without the full-on cliches of a wealthy Duke and a virginal heroine? Then this author is perfect for you! In this story, we have Heath, a wealthy Chicago sports agent and Annabelle, a down-on-her-luck matchmaker. Heath hires Annabelle to help him find a perfect trophy wife. Instead, (you guessed it!) the pair fall in love after a series of misadventures, fights and make-ups. Formulaic? Yes. Perfect reading material as you sun yourself in Cancun? Also, yes.

Looking for something slightly more serious? Read Water for Elephants, A Thousand Splendid Suns, Wicked, The Red Tent, The Other Boleyn Girl or Pillars of the Earth.

Already read all my Spring Break reads? Try Sloppy Firsts, Remember Me? or Chasing Harry Winston.

Need more suggestions? Let me know!

Just for Fun

My new favorite commercial:

Old Spice, The Man Your Man Could Smell Like.

Thoughts??

Black-Hole (Or, My Half-Birthday)

Some of you are probably mildly inconvenienced right about now, as we approach the end of the month. You might be thinking to yourselves: wow, I wish February didn't insist on being so contrarily "unique." February's abnormal shortness means we have to remember to pay our rent checks 2-3 days earlier (March 1st sneaks up after the 28th this year, instead of after the 30th or the 31st, like an ordinary month), and we have that depressing series of empty white boxes at the bottom of our monthly dry erase calendars, where dates like the "29th" and the "30th" should fall. We even have the unfortunate knowledge that we are that much closer to graduation. However, February's strange briefness results in one consequence that most of you probably never considered, and deprives me of something that most of you probably take for granted.

I am talking, of course, about my lack of half-birthday.

Now, I would like to preemptively acknowledge that I know that there are people out there whose actual birthdays fall on Leap Year. To my uncle, my best friend's dad, and that teacher I had in middle school: I salute you. Seriously, if I can work up enough energy to whine about my lack of half-birthday for a couple of paragraphs, I can't even imagine how I'd feel if people were deprived of an annual opportunity to shower me with cake, cards, gifts and attention. Having a real birthday once every four years is a cross no one should have to bear, so to all of you with the misfortune to enter the world on February 29th: I'm sorry.

Back to me and my woes. I was born on August 31st. Now, a lot of you other "31st" birthdays out there can probably emphasize with me. There is no such thing as June 31st, or September 31st, or November 31st. You might think: really, Michelle, this is a small loss. Yes, I suppose you're right. Sure, growing up, my best friend always got a small cake and a cd on her half-birthday. But I didn't want a cd, and I preferred brownies to cake anyways. And yes, maybe throughout the years I felt that small stab of jealousy when I saw people's Facebook status's "Halfway to 21!" knowing that I would never be able to write my own halfway-point-status (thanks to February's abnormality, there is a giant black-hole where my half-birthday should be: this year, we'll jump straight from February 28th to March 1st).

I know there are people out there worse off (I have seen the effects of the Leap Day birthday first hand one too many times). But whenever August 4th or January 12th or March 27th come along...think to yourself: wow, I'm 21 1/2 today. I'm one of the lucky ones.

(And yes, I'm off to write "My non-existent half-birthday" in one of those depressing empty white boxes -the one that should be February 31st- at the bottom of our apartment's joint dry-erase monthly calendar).

Lizzie McGuire: Engaged

I learned something yesterday that disturbed me. It was not that my roommate had eaten the last of the cookie dough, or that Ryan Phillipe and Abbie Cornish have split (who cares?), or even that an application now exists allowing people to (apparently) track how many times I have stalked their Facebook profiles.

No, instead, the news that unnerved me for a good, solid ten minutes after I read the article on people.com is this: Lizzie McGuire is engaged. For those of you readers that aren't a 19-23 year-old girl, Lizzie McGuire was the Hannah Montana of our generation. Played by Hilary Duff, Lizzie struggled through the ups and downs of middle school with the help of her best friends Gordo and Miranda, with the annoying interference of her little brother Matt and with the narrative help of a cartoon-version Lizzie. So, sometime last weekend, Hilary got engaged to her NHL boyfriend of over two years, Mike Comrie. You might be thinking: well, Hilary is a nice, wholesome actress in an industry of eating disorders and trips to rehab. What is your problem with her finding her happily-ever-after?

Here it is: in spite of the fact that I just received an email reminding me of the date and time of my convocation, and that ordering a cap and gown is on my to-do list, and that I have interviewed for actual jobs, the growing-up real-world thing is managing to remain a surreal, distant concept. Innumerable members of my high school graduating class will be getting married this summer, but I wrote that off as a fluke generated by the ultra-conservative Wheaton values. Evan Rachel Wood (also our age) got engaged a few months back, but since her affianced is Marilyn Manson (over twenty years our senior and likely to want the ceremony to occur under an arch of human skulls), I didn't allow that one to phase me either. But, if Lizzie McGuire (Hilary Duff) is getting married, we must finally, really, actually be getting old. She was a beacon of normality for our age group during those middle school years. And although she did not exactly run with the popular crowd at her fictional middle school (I blame her preference for pastels and crimping her hair), we thought she was great.

However, whether it unnerves me or not, graduation is approaching, and so is 'marriageable-age' for our age group (thanks, Lizzie, for being the first to take the plunge). I certainly won't be walking down the aisle anytime soon (I'm going to let boys our age work for a few years, so they can save up money to buy me a rock comparable to my old idol, Lizzie's). However, if some of you faithful readers decide to get hitched sooner rather than later (like our favorite former Disney star), I will happily attend your wedding ceremony, partake of your open bar and karaoke with your second cousins.

Also. To my readers that saw Shutter Island and reported back, assuring me that I could see it without fear of nightmares: here is your reward: yummy (Leo + Esquire + IRONING = heaven. Thanks to Caroline for the tip on these pictures!).

Confession

Have you ever narrated Millionaire Matchmaker to your roommates (with the TV on mute) or wikipedia-ed Stephen Colbert's life history and worried that you might be the biggest closet nerd out there? I am about to make you feel so much better about yourself.

Let's go back a year and half. I had a book series that I really liked...pure fluff reads along the lines of The Devil Wears Prada or Something Borrowed/Something Blue. Girl + Boy + Trendy Clothes = happily-ever-after. Totally formulaic, but the perfect escape for a college-sophomore going through a stressful week (and unwilling to suffer all next day by 'escaping' with $5 pitchers at Kam's). So, a year and a half ago I was suffering the ultimate stressful week: homework, Study Abroad deadlines, Executive Council paperwork, work. ALL I wanted was to spend the evening in a pair of sweatpants and give my mind the night off from stress as I focused on what I assumed would be Maggie and Devon's easy road to a happy end.

Well, that's not what I got. For some reason, in book 4 of a series that had yet to let me down, Author X decided to completely change her predictable, lovable formula. I stayed up until 3am, assuming, in vain, that if I just pushed through to that last page, Maggie and Devon would have their true love's kiss somewhere (a beach, in the rain, a public restroom...I didn't care, as long as it happened). It did not. In spite of the chick-lit-esque cover that practically screamed promises of a sappy, cliche love story, my two main characters did NOT fall in love. I had wasted $10 and hours of my time on an unhappy ending. I was annoyed, mad, and confused. So what did I do? (Here is the closet-nerd part).

I emailed the author.

When telling this story, I usually like to stop here and wonder how this must have looked to the author (who, thanks to her picture on the back cover, I can tell you seems completely cute, young and normal). Some girl emails her at 3am demanding to know why the main characters don't end up together, demanding to know why she would deviate from her normal formula, and demanding to know why Maggie would agree to go on a date with Joesph at the end of the novel when she so clearly is meant to be with Devon. I imagine Author X reading that email and picturing me as some sort of crazed, lonely housewife or sad, chubby teenager and I wish I could go back to that email and add "P.S. I swear I have friends."

Whatever she thought of me, the best part of this whole story is that she responded. Author X replied, at length, about just why she felt Maggie and Devon were not meant to be. She also gave me the heads-up that if I didn't like book 4, I should skip book 5 of the series, but that book 6 would be right back up my alley. (I caved and bought book 5...but only after it went to paperback). Tonight, while at Border's, I realized that Book 6 had finally (almost two years later) been released and it brought that whole sophomore-year-email conversation back. I'm hoping that Penelope and Reid end up together, because otherwise, I might have to reconnect with Author X.

I would also like to say that this was the one and only time I ever emailed an author. Sadly, this would be not true (I'm up to 4-it's an addiction). And as long as you aren't emailing J.K. Rowling, Stephenie Meyer, or Dan Brown, they respond. So take the advice of an overly-eager-fan: next time you don't quite understand why (oh why?!) Jeremy dumped Beth, or the CIA failed to crack the code, or the vampire drained the girl (instead of falling in love with her)...email Author X and demand answers. You might be surprised at the response.

Shutter Island

So, this is the new Martin Scorsese/Leonardo DiCaprio film. It appears to be some sort of horror/thriller set in an island mental hospital and every time I see the trailer for it, I wage a long, silent, internal battle.

To understand this battle, we have to go back to my freshman year of high school. I saw The Ring in theaters; my friend and I spent the entire two hours in terror, clinging to each other as the horse jumped off the ferry, or that little girl crawled out of the TV screen (just as you thought it had all happily resolved, nonetheless). After the movie however, my friend forgot all about The Ring. I, on the other hand, spent a full month of sleepless nights, worrying that Samara was stealthily clawing her way across my bedroom floor. I knew then that I would pay $7.00 to laugh and I would pay $7.00 to cry, but I would not pay $7.00 to have bags under my eyes for the next 4 weeks. You have to draw the line somewhere. Until now, I have accepted my limitation - my inability to watch a movie scarier than Hocus Pocus - without regret. Saw looked too bloody, Saw IV looked too unoriginal and Paranormal looked too indie. So, why, after 7 years of avoiding the horror genre, am I so conflicted?

Two words: Leo Dicaprio.

Everything the man touches turns to gold. I don't even think I need to mention Romeo + Juliet or Titanic. I think his bone structure and the purity of his love for Juliet/Rose make it pretty clear why I would accept an on-the-spot marriage proposal from the man, no questions asked. It's his more recent movies, though, that make me want to break my scary-movie-boycott. He is obviously a smart guy, and he has reached that elite A-level tier where he can afford to choose the scripts that he wants to attach his name to. I just don't see him actively deciding to be in a bad movie. Add that to the fact that he is a great actor, and just about everything he is in seems bound for success (The Departed, Blood Diamond, Revolutionary Road...The Beach. Okay, maybe not that one.). I'm also (slightly) influenced by the fact that I really do like Martin Scorsese, Mark Ruffalo, Michelle Williams and Emily Mortimer. And so...I'm torn.

Will you see Shutter Island? And more importantly, if I see it and it turns out I am not emotionally-equipped (as a 21-year old) to handle an R-rated thriller, will you answer terrified 2 am phone calls from me?

All My Single Ladies

You're single and it's Valentine's Day. Your happily coupled-off-friends are busy receiving carnations, white teddy bears and their choice between soup, salad or breadsticks at The Olive Garden, leaving you alone in your singledom to do...what? The natural inclination would be to take a $5.99 bottle of wine and plop down in front of the computer for a solid afternoon of Facebook ex-stalking. Resist the temptation. We both know sooner or later the persuasive powers of sauvignon blanc will lead you to send that message to your scumbag ex-boyfriend, describing exactly why you are better than his new girlfriend (the size of her nose, that trashy leopard-print dress she wore in all of their NYE pictures and her tendency to use captions like "me and my baby" in their couple's albums). Instead, spend the day with other single ladies (or alone, even), restoring your belief in the existence of true love. Noah and Allie, or Jack and Rose are classic options, but if you are looking for something new, check out these movies or books this afternoon.

Movies:

1). Paris Je T'aime: This 2006 movie boasted a pretty great range of actors, actresses and directors, but four years later, most people still haven't heard of it. There are 18 short films (shot by 22 different directors, each in a different district of Paris) that are all brief, unconnected stories about love. The stories explore all kinds of love (parent-child, new, old, same-sex) in funny, sweet, and touching ways and you will see everyone from Natalie Portman to Elijah Wood to Maggie Gyllenhaal to Rufus Sewel featured throughout the film.

2). Chocolat: Juliette Binoche shows us that you don't need to be in love to be happy (you just need a 2,000 year-old family hot-chocolate recipe and the willingness to challenge tradition in a small, uptight French town). She gets the people of the village to let their hair down and catches gypsy Johnny Depp's eye along the way. My one piece of advice for watching this movie: have chocolate on hand. Your tastebuds will be very put out if you don't.

Books:

The Secret History of The Pink Carnation by Lauren Willig: Pure, escapist fun. Modern-day history student Eloise Kelly travels to London in search of research to support her dissertation on Napoleonic-era spy The Pink Carnation. Naturally, she finds her way barred by the sexy heir Colin Selwick, who does not want her poking around in his family history. This story parallels with the late-18th century adventure love story of Amy (who may or may not be The Pink Carnation) and Richard. This book is a pure-guilty-pleasure, as Amy and Richard battle French spies, endure royal balls and end up happily-ever-after. If you get sucked into the plotline, there are several more books to follow (to get your single self through the nights when your best friend is off celebrating Sweetest Day or her 4 and 1/3 week anniversary with the new bf).

I also have to admit, I went to the theaters and saw the movie Valentine's Day yesterday (and yes, if you read my post a couple of weeks ago, I was ALL skepticism about such a big, ensemble cast really managing to make a storyline cute enough for me to invest in). It was good if you go into it expecting nothing more than chick-flick entertainment: you will have fun, you will tear up once or twice and you might even be mildly surprised by who ends up with who.

There it is single ladies. Four viable options. So stay away from Facebook, and stay away from that bottle of wine (at least until after 5:00). Happy Valentine's Day!

The Winter Olympics

To begin with: an apology to my avid readers. And, yes: I now have proof that at the very least two of you exist. In the last 24 hours, I have received both a facebook complaint and a verbal complaint about my lack of posts over the last 10 days. So to you two, I'm sorry. I got caught up in mock, informational and actual interviews and decided that might be less interesting (to you two) than Lady Gaga, lifetime movies and my forays into alternative fitness. I will do better in the future. Now, to you dozens upon dozens of silent fans that had no words of reproach for my long absence: I understand your desire for anonymity, but really, this blog will never transform into a Julie and Julia (with a Cosmopolitan/Confessions of a Shopoholic twist) success story unless you start commenting, spreading this blog to your roommates (or at the very least, your friends in the publishing industry) and demanding (like my two avid readers) that I step it up during periods of blog-neglect.

Anywho. On that note.

THE WINTER OLYMPICS. Several someones told me that they don't care about the Winter Olympics nearly as much as the Summer Olympics, to the point that they might not even bother watching over the next two weeks. Now, I love the Olympics, so I couldn't believe this. I think the Summer Olympics are great (Michael Phelps + women's gymnastics), but Winter are just as exciting. Hopefully I don't have to explain why you should watch big-ticket events like women's and pair's figure-skating or men's ice hockey, but there are plenty of other great reasons to tune into the happenings in The Great White North over the next two weeks.

1). Short Track: This sport is great to watch because so much can change lap-by-lap. An athlete can go from 7th to 4th to 1st in a matter of seconds, a mere bump can disqualify the favorite and a tiny slip can not only end your race, but also drag down competitors from Korea, Canada and France at the same time. Plus, we have adorable veteran Apolo Anton Ohno (who already won his Olympic 6th medal in this sport tonight) and adorable newcomer J.R. Celski (who is coming back from 60 stitches worth of skate-blade-damage inflicted just last September).

2). Nancy Swider-Peltz Jr.: A Wheaton North grad, she is competing in Long Track, 3000 meter speed-skating. She graduated a year after me (I know we had a class together, I'm pretty sure it was Speech with Klemm my sophomore year) and her mom was also a speed-skating Olympian.

3). Mogul Skiing: This freestyle skiing has the athletes navigating a long series of bumps (moguls?) which make you wonder how you go about acquiring that level of thigh and calf strength. While racing down the timed-course, the skiers also have to complete intermittent freestyle jumps, spins and flips off of ramps. I don't recognize any big Olympic names in this event (i.e. on the scale of Lindsey Vonn or Shaun White), but it is simply cool to watch.

4). Bobsled Races: Cool Runnings. Enough Said. (Although, ironically, Jamaica's bobsled team did not make it to the Olympics this year. So, a new tropical-climate Cinderella story must step up!).

5). Closing Ceremonies: If you already missed the Opening Ceremonies, I thought they were pretty great. I missed the Beijing ones two years ago thanks to my Friday-night-job (I had heard they would be impossible to top - but without the handy benefit of socialism, Canada would inevitably need to be more accountable to tax-payers, so I did not blame them) but I thought Vancouver did well. I'm still not really sure how the punk, jigging, fiddlers related to Canadian history or culture, but by the time fire spewed from their tap shoes and violin bows, I no longer cared. I assume that the Closing Ceremonies will be just as great, if not better.

Final Note: I find the death of the Georgian luge-racer very sad, simply because he is my age and because there should be enough precautions in place that no one dies during a sporting event. But how strange is it that NBC was airing the footage of his fatal final run (including the part where Nodar gets thrown from the track) yesterday? I guess they realized it was tactless and disturbing, because they announced they won't be airing it anymore this evening. Too bad everyone already saw it yesterday, NBC.

Final Note # 2: After the Barney Stinson-Super Bowl-plug, I can't wait to see what kind of Robin-Canada jokes they make on How I Met Your Mother after the Olympics are over. They are inevitable, right?

Avid (or occasional) readers: comment! And I will try and be a more regular blog-poster.

The Return of Yogalates

Freshman year, my roommate Jenny and I bought group fitness passes for our Campus Recreation Center. We really didn't have an alternative choice for fending off the freshman-fifteen. Of our two on-campus fitness centers, one (now ARC, then IMPE) was under construction for the entirety of our freshman and sophomore years, leaving the remaining center (CRCE) heavily overcrowded. I might have cutthroat instincts when it comes to the last piece of double-layer frosted cookie-cake or to the final pair of size-9 black suede high-knee boots, but not when it comes to battling it out with a fellow undergrad for the last elliptical. I just don't have that kind of fight in me.

So, with the treadmills and weight machines completely overrun by our more dedicated classmates, Jenny and I were forced to explore alternative options to combat the freshman-year-lbs. We invested the $50 in a semester-long group fitness pass, each purchased a yoga mat and began to clear our semesters 2-4 times a week. We went to yoga, pilates, and yogalates. We went to Get on the Ball (a class that creatively used the medicine ball, bosu ball, stability ball, etc.), Zumba (a weird salsa-based dance class that taxed my limited-coordination) and Cardio Camp (a class that flat-out taxed my limited cardio abilities). However, in spite of a few set-backs, I became sort-of toned, sort-of flexible and sort-of in-shape.

Then, with the beginning of junior year in particular, ARC reopened and there were ellipticals available galore (ellipticals with TVs, better yet). I would watch Say Yes to the Dress and Jon and Kate Plus 8 (pre-Jon's mid-life crisis and the show's cancellation) before class and our commitment to yogalates, body blitz and cardio strength flagged. This year Jenny (still my roommate) repurchased the group fitness pass several weeks ago but insists on attending only 'Sunrise Yoga' (6:45 am). As I believe I've made quite clear by now, I don't do mornings, so the future state of my flexibility and/or core strength was looking dire.

But, tonight, I finally got motivated and made my way over to an evening yogalates class. I have, as suspected, lost all level of flexibility and strength. But I had also forgotten that by the end of freshman year, the classes were not just a final alternative to giving a fellow Illini a black eye in order to snag the last stationary bicycle. They had allowed me to envision myself as some sort of cool yoga-guru. For the space of an hour, I transport out of central Illinois and (if I really try) can imagine posing in bear- or child's-pose on a mountainside (or at the very least, in a space that does not smell slightly like sweat and varnish). Not only is yogalates good for my body, I forgot, it's good for the mental health. So stay tuned this semester as I revisit group fitness classes. I will practice positive inhale-exhale techniques and hopefully relearn to touch my toes.

Valentine's Day Countdown

Favorite Grammy looks (Lady Gaga, Lea Michele, Taylor Swift, Carrie Underwood and Rihanna). I was NOT a fan of Katy Perry or Britney. Everyone else - fairly forgettable.

So I went to the mall yesterday to spend the last of my holiday gift cards and was appalled to realize that I had (until yesterday afternoon) somehow managed to forget that Valentine's Day is a mere two weeks days away. A wide variety of storefronts helped me to correct this oversight (Hallmark: heart-shaped cards, Victoria's Secret: neon-pink lingerie, Kay Jewelers: diamond eternity rings). As a former Hallmark employee (a 6-month experience during high school that made me forever hate Michael Buble and scented candles), I can guess that they started stocking the shelves with red and pink merchandise at 12:01am on December 26th (or at the very least, I remember putting out Christmas decorations pre-Halloween in the fall of 2005). So, a month later, my total unawareness about the holiday's imminence is a fluke, which I feel will now be over-corrected by an onslaught of reminders everywhere I go. Case in point: today I've seen the advertisement for the movie Valentine's Day about 6 times in a half an hour. I would like my Valentine's-Day-focus today to be on my unnatural hesitation about this movie (I don't know another girl my age who does not have it's release date penciled into her planner or entered into her Blackberry with a million !!!!!!!!). I'll save my thoughts on other flowers over roses (creativity, boys!) for some other time over the next two weeks.

So. Valentine's Day. This movie seems like it should be a winner (to most) based on the sheer number of celebrities in it (Jessicas Alba & Biel, Taylors Swift & Lautner, Julia and Emma Roberts, Jennifer Garner, Anne Hathaway, Bradley Cooper, Patrick Dempsey, Ashton Kutcher, Eric Dane, Jamie Foxx, Queen Latifah, Kathy Bates, Hector Elizondo, Topher Grace, George Lopez, etc.). Part of my problem with this movie is that the trailer spends SO much time showing off the sheer number of celebrities it managed to land as part of the cast, that I still don't even know what the film is really about. Who is it targeting, for instance? Happy couples: with the nice, obedient boyfriend willing to be dragged along to a chick flick in exchange for popcorn and a snowcone? Bitter singles: looking to watch Jennifer Garner down a bottle of wine, Jessica Biel cry about being alone, and then each to realize the healing power of girls-night-out in overcoming the evils of men? Or, instead, girls that are single-and-loving-it: wanting to admire Bradley Cooper for an hour and a half and then grab Chocolate martinis after the show? Likely the goal of such an ensemble cast is to appeal to all three groups (the couples, the bitter singles and the happy singles), but I'm worried that there are going to be too many storylines for me to really invest in any of them. Obviously, the verdict is still out until I actually SEE this movie (or until either my mom or best friend sees it, and tells me if it's worth the $10 it now costs to make a trip to the theater), but for the moment, I remain skeptical.

SO. Not seeing this movie on the big V-day weekend? Start making dinner reservations (if you're in a relationship) or checking out which of your favorite bars will have the best themed-shot specials (if you're single)! You only have two weeks (and counting) in which to prepare.