Article from NY Times (VOILA!)

Climate Talks Near Deal to Save Forests

The New York Times
By ELISABETH ROSENTHAL
Published: December 15, 2009
COPENHAGEN — Negotiators have all but completed a sweeping deal that would compensate countries for preserving forests, and in some cases, other natural landscapes like peat soils, swamps and fields that play a crucial role in curbing climate change.
Recent developments on the politics of global warming with background, analysis, timelines and earlier events from NYTimes.com and Google.
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Environmental groups have long advocated such a compensation program because forests are efficient absorbers of carbon dioxide, the primary heat-trapping gas linked to global warming. Rain forest destruction, which releases the carbon dioxide stored in trees, is estimated to account for 20 percent of greenhouse gas emissions globally.
The agreement for the program, if signed as expected, may turn out to be the most significant achievement to come out of the Copenhagen climate talks, providing a system through which countries can be paid for conserving disappearing natural assets based on their contribution to reducing emissions.
A final draft of the agreement for the compensation program, called Reducing Emissions From Deforestation and Forest Degradation, or REDD, is to be given on Wednesday to ministers of the nearly 200 countries represented here to hammer out a framework for a global climate treaty. Negotiators and other participants said that though some details remained to be worked out, all major points of disagreement — how to address the rights of indigenous people living on forest land and what is defined as forest, for example — had been resolved through compromise.
A final agreement on the program may not be announced until the end of the week, when President Obama and other world leaders arrive — in part because there has been so little progress on other issues at the climate summit meeting, sponsored by the United Nations.
“It is likely to be the most concrete thing that comes out of Copenhagen — and it is a very big thing,” said Fred Krupp, head of the Environmental Defense Fund.
For poorer countries, the payments will provide a much-needed new income stream. For richer nations, the lure of the program is not cash but carbon credits that can be used to cancel out, in part, their industrial emissions under a carbon trading system, like the cap-and-trade plan currently under consideration by Congress.
Forests “have become a pot of money or a get out of jail free card,” said Peg Putt, a consultant to the Wilderness Society. “Either way, there’s the prospect of financial benefit now, as opposed to just being told, ‘Do the right thing,’ like it was two years ago.”
The new plan represents an important shift from earlier United Nations climate programs, like the 1997 Kyoto Protocol, in which countries committed to curbing their industrial emissions but got no credit for reducing emissions through changes in land use.
The agreement is also being closely watched in Congress, where climate legislation passed the House in June and is currently stalled in the Senate.
Under the cap-and-trade system preferred by Democratic leaders and the Obama administration, companies that cannot meet their greenhouse gas pollution limit could buy extra permits by investing in carbon-reduction programs abroad. Plans to preserve forests under REDD would presumably qualify.
The forest program “offers the opportunities for U.S. companies to reduce emissions at lower cost, which is very important politically,” Mr. Krupp said.
Under the final draft of agreement, other habitats that absorb carbon dioxide — like peat bogs, which store large amounts of carbon dioxide in their soil — could be eligible for payments. This prospect has environmentalists scrambling to calculate the carbon storage capacity of other resources like swamps and fields, not for the sake of preserving beauty or biodiversity, but for their potential financial benefit.
“Why is everyone thinking about forest and peat land while overlooking oceans, the biggest carbon store on the planet?” said Dan Lafolley, marine vice chairman for the World Commission on Protected Areas of the Swiss-based International Union for the Conservation of Nature. “It would be a travesty if Copenhagen addressed forests but not other carbon stocks.”
The potential for payments has even pitted advocates for some types of forest against advocates for other types.
“Were not sure in Copenhagen there will be a definitive mechanism for monetizing forests, but if there is we think all forests should be included,” Steve Kallick, director of the Boreal Conservation Pew Environment Group, who studies northern forest stocks and noted that by some measures, boreal forests store twice as much carbon dioxide per unit as tropical forests.
Even if the ministers pass the agreement, as it is predicted they will, it will take some time before the money starts flowing. Many details remain to be worked out, including the exact level of emissions reduction the REDD program should aim for and by what date, and what system should be used to measure the carbon storage of various habitats.
Meanwhile, scientists and conservationists have flocked to Copenhagen to make their case.
“We’ve seen the idea of REDD start in forestry, but expand to other land use sectors,” Ms. Putt said.
Cary Fowler of the Global Crop Diversity Trust said he decided to come to Copenhagen when he saw no mention of crop diversity or agriculture in an earlier climate proposal.
“I thought I’d better come,” he said. “This negotiation will help decide what’s on the table — which issues are legitimate and which not.”
While progress was made on the forest program, little else was achieved at the bargaining tables here on Tuesday. A top United Nations official, asked to characterize the state of the talks, said simply, “Terrible.”
A new draft of a proposed global accord leaves critical questions unanswered: how deeply nations will cut their greenhouse gas emissions, how much money will flow to help poor nations adapt to global warming and how any environmental program will be monitored and verified.
“There’s a great deal yet to do,” said Todd Stern, the chief climate change envoy for the United States.
Mr. Stern also said that President Obama would not consider changing the American commitment to reducing greenhouse gas emissions in the United States by about 17 percent below 2005 levels by 2020.
“It’s tied to legislation,” he said. “We don’t want to promise something we don’t have.”
Leaders have already abandoned hope of completing a binding international treaty here and say they will continue the work next year. Trying to infuse a sense of urgency, former Vice President Al Gore pressed the negotiators in an afternoon speech to speed up next year’s sessions with an eye toward completing a treaty in July. He also asked Mr. Obama and Senate leaders to set an April deadline for completing a Senate climate and energy bill.
Mr. Obama has been talking with a number of foreign officials in advance of his arrival here on Friday, the last scheduled day of the conference. He has spoken with the leaders of Britain, France, Germany, Ethiopia and Bangladesh since Monday, hoping to find a way to bridge the differences between the developed and developing countries that have divided this effort for years.
Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton will arrive in Copenhagen on Thursday to help provide a final push toward agreement, a State Department official confirmed. She will stay until Mr. Obama departs, the official said.
Ban Ki-moon, secretary general of the United Nations, addressed the delegates Tuesday night as they moved into the final days of negotiations.
“We do not have another year to deliberate,” he said. “Nature does not negotiate.”
John M. Broder contributed reporting.

Voila!

Voila, my word of the next two years. It works wonderfully, in lieu of actual words to help in my expression of things like, "Exactly," "There you go," and just general agreement. One can use it multiple times to the point of annoyance. Hence the joy.

So, for those of you who have been dying to know... I have just around 102 weeks of service left. To say that things are starting off slow would be an understatement. First off, it is the month of fete de Noel. This means people are guarding money for either/or XMas or New Years, I am assuming. I will see how people en village celebrate the holidays. All I do know is that I bring utter confusion when I tell people I don't fete de Noel. Mama's are off to the champs early in the morning to harvest arachides (peanuts), mais (corn), and it appears as though the start of the soja (soy) harvest will start soon. So what exactly will I, as a PCV be doing? That is a good question...

Here in the South, land of abundant forest, people practice shifting agriculture, slash and burn specifically. With impending population pressure, as can be seen throughout the Western region, land will eventually become a scarcity and forests will no longer exist as they do now. I have two counterparts. One is Serges, who every past volunteer has praised for his hardwork. I learn more and more how helpful he will be during my service. The other is an ONG (NGO), CAAPRO. Judith and Solange will be my main contacts here, and they are both incredibly hardworking, dynamic, and kind people. My primary projects, as I have discussed with my supervisor will include 1) Continuing with the Soja project. By getting mama's to plant soja with other staple crops like manioc, mais, plantains, they can improve the health of their soil, they wont have to move fields every year, and as well all know, it is delicious and a good source of protein. 2) Integrating local trees for their non-timber forest products into cacao fields to stagger the income revenue/food source for families. As I saw during site visit, at prime cacao harvest time, men have a ton of money and spend it faster than I can even imagine. So, by integrating selective shade- giving trees (shea butter, the african prune-a local delicacy, wild mango) into the melange, because cacao requires shade, the cacao business can become better for the whole family. 3) A water project or two. 4) I have the luck of being at the site of the first national agro expo in 20 years. It is kind of a big deal, lots of opportunity to work with my village to show all of Cameroon how great farming in the South can be. And other possibilities.

For right now, life is going. I am learning that the neighbor kids are my saving grace. Without them coming in to my house and coloring for hours on end, I don't know how I would get by. They helped me build a fence of bamboo (a NASTY invasive here) for a small garden to protect veggies from les chevres et les muttons du chef, because the not very highly respected chef of the village lets his goats and sheep run crazy all over the village. I have a neighbor farmer who has a fish pond/porc/mais system set up (mais and household waste feeds the porc, porc waste feeds the fish), and I think he and his family will be good farmer leaders.

Today (or tommorrow, according to different sources) is the start of the regional agropastoral expo, so I will check that out and make new contacts, I am sure. For those of you in the cold, it is between 70 and 85 degrees everyday, with 85 percent humidity. Kind of gross, but better than fighting the bitter cold. Hopefully my next post will be more eventful. And each post for the next 102 weeks.

An ode to my homestay family

31 new volunteers. 16 health, 15 agro. We swore in as Peace Corps volunteers on Wednesday in a bittersweet ceremony. Our homestay families were there, the director, the ambassador, the mayor, and other VIPs. It felt a little bit like high school graduation in that there were lots of pictures to be taken, lots of people to say hello and goodbye to, lots of bright red lipstick on my cheeks, and even fake, plastic flowers (yes!).

In considering these past few months of my life, aside from the relationships that I have developed with the other stagieres (er... volunteers), it has really been my experience in homestay that helped me learn a lot about myself and about Cameroon. In particular, it was my little brother and little sister who helped me learn about and love Cameroon. Here it goes, this may be brief, but I hope it helps (myself).

Elvine. It took me a long time to learn your pet name; Bibish. You are already so much like Mama- strong willed (forte). I will always remember morning, walking out of the house to go to the bathroom, the sun rising from beyond the hill, sky red, orange, pink. There you are. Completely naked. Bathing on a metal sheet. You have no idea how this outdoor bath is exceptionally beautiful, filled with plaintain trees and birds. In this memory you are smiling, always happy to see me. You're 11, ready to become a woman any day, and yet nudity (in the morning at bath, in the evening just because) does not phase you. This I love about you- your comfort in your body, your self-confidence. Even when I tell you that I am not a Catholic, you tell me that I am, convinced that my wonder at the clear night skies of Bangante results from my faith in Jesus. I loved you that second week in Bangante when you went on a run with me and Andrea past the chefferie and you ran in your nice school loafers. And when you refused to eat the tomato soup that Julie and I made together for the larger family, because one always eats pasta with sauce, not soup with pasta. And when you changed the chant of my name from a sing-songy "Lauren, Lauren, Lauren" to a less enchanting nickname, which I can only type as "poopy net" which roughly means childhood stuffed animal; I have never been so proud to have such an embarrasing nickname. You're beautiful, you're forte dans la tete, you're my little sister.

Chrislain. Tibo. My favorite memory of you involves you, butt-naked, standing at the water faucet, completely covered in suds, with a huge grin on your face. So happy with life, so happy to say my name. You dance under the water, a well deserved bath after spending most of the afternoon playing football. When I ask you what you did today, the answer is always, inevitabley, "I climbed the guava tree, and I played." And I can tell that you climbed the guava tree because your pockets are completely filled with guavas, green and hard, but red and semi-sweet on the inside-the way I have come to love guavas these past few months. And I can tell that you played because your clothes are covered in dirt or mud, depending on the last rain. Your clothes are the rouge color of Bangante soil-such a rich red color that one must thrash their clothes on the cement to wash them. And Tibo, everytime you fell asleep on the couch and refused to go to bed, I yelled at you, but I completely remember what that was like as a child, an 8 year old.

Upon leaving, I realized how sad I will be. But excited to start working, excited to make new friends and learn a new city. Hopefully new, exciting things will happen and my blog posts will get better.

You're in the jungle, baby!

Le jus de poisson. Literally, the juice of fish. Here's the deal. I learned just over a week ago that my new home for the next two years will be Ngalane, in the southern region of Cameroon. I will live just outside of Ebolowa (google map it!), the regional capital, and just where the road turns into two dirt roads. I will be 1 of 2 agroforesty volunteers in the South, and there will only be 5 of us posted there for the entire region; 2 health, 1 education. We received news of our posts on Thursday of last week, just before Halloween. I almost cried as the South was completely NOT what I expected. However, upon the realization that there are actually natural forests left in the South and that I will have more freedom/independence with my projects/life, I got excited. We all had a 2 day conference in Bangante, my training city, where we met our counterpart and talked about stuff and things. But the good stuff starts here... We left Bangante for a week long visit of our soon-to-be sites on Sunday. After a 3.5 hr trip from the West, a region saturated with agriculture and PC volunteers, we arrived in Yaounde. It took another 30 minutes of travel in Yaounde to reach the most awful place on earth, Mvon, where I take buses to Ebolowa (not related to the Ebola virus). Mvon, the bus station south of Yaounde, is horrible because it is where people do awful things to other people and NO ONE DOES ANYTHING. Barely having survived a few fights I almost started in Mvon, I took a 2-2.5 hr bus ride to Ebolowa, deep into Cameroon's southern rainforest, where I watched the regular western agricultural plots turn into forestry trucks carrying massive logs. This is the real forest where slash and burn agriculture prevails because it can (ie. there is space!). So it is really beautiful out here. And there's lots of interesting social issues, like sorcery, and people working individually (which is contrary to most of Cameroon which tends towards group projects). During my site visit, me and Andrea, my nearest Agro volunteer, saw some African Grays (cool!) while walking down the road that leads from her future post to Gabon. Also, my neighbor has a monkey in a cage. So, stuff is interesting and I'm sure I'll have more good stuff to share really soon. But the real story is on transport from my post to her post. Mvangan, Andrea's post, is just over 100 km east of my post. The roads are not good, and even worse when wet. Unfortunately, the two of us and the volunteer, Sarah, who she'll be replacing, chose to go after a freak late-wet season hail (I KNOW, cause it's hot in the South!) storm. We were going to TPO, her neighbor, TPO meaning Terrible Pouvoir de l'Ouest. So, thinking we were going to have a schwank deal, we loaded our bags, and waited. When it came time to sit in the taxi, it turned out we were going to pack just like every other taxi to Mvangan: double decker. This means 4 up front, 8 in the back. Yikes. Fortunately whities get the front, and the worst seat turns out to be "petite chauffer"-for women with little fannies who literally share the seat with the driver, manual transmission and all. We were not doing so bad until the car broke down less than an hour later. We waited for a while, and as it started to get dark we jumped into the back (ie., the very back/trunk) of another station wagon heading our way. We made 18 people in this car! There were the 3 of us, plus a momma and her 3 year old in the very back. But at least I didn't have to double decker it in the actual seats. This is also the time that the frozen fish, shipped from China and/or Morocco, strapped snug on the top of the car in transport from the big city of Ebolowa to the en bruce city- without electricity/running water- started to melt on top of me. My neck craned to one side or the other because apparently I'm just a little too tall to sit back there comfortably, praying that my bag would actually make it to Mvangan in 1 piece, I needed everything I had to not cry. The worst part was that the mayor of Mvangan was on his way down the same road and, seeing his PC volunteer and 2 other PCVs smuchsed in the trunk, tried all he could to flag down our car. But our driver, thinking we would not pay him for the ride, ignored our cries to stop, and even refused to let us out to stretch. So a potentially 2 hr ride, after fixing a flat, turned into a 5 hr grueling journey. Our bags arrived with TPO 2 days later, untouched. A minor victory. We spent several days in Mvangan, enjoying the (generally, except for cold beer) lack of electricity, the quiet nights, the small town feel where even the local deaf man proposes marriage through the help of a man who speaks villagoise francaise, and etc. It was wonderful and relaxing and I convinced myself that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to visit my friend here at post, until I took the ride back to my city. Thinking that it could only get better than the ride into town, I quickly realized that the driver, who shoved my bag into the trunk carelessly, accepted us to drive into town, only to stop 2 miles into the ride from Mvangan to "fix" a flat with a bike tire pump. This happened a few times throughout the trip, along with a snack break, and a break to break up a fight because of "double decker" conflict. The ride home was not in a station wagon, but in a regular car. I counted 12 inside the car, plus a baby, and 4 on top of the car. I think I will bike there from here on out and at least get some enjoyment out of it. Moral of the story is 100 or so km does not equal 1 or 2 hours of journey, but 5 to 12 hours, jus de poisson smells like urine, it's better to ride where you wont be on someone's lap or someone wont be on yours, always look for a trusty car/driver but expect it wont be, GO WITH THE FLOW-you'll get there, hopefully in one piece and hopefully with your stuff. And laugh. Because it's better than crying when your left butt check is numb and you have been sitting on it for 2 hours on end. PS. I have a new address: Lauren Redmore B.P. 477 Ebolowa, Cameroon

This bleach tastes like water! And other musings from just 1.5 weeks

Ok, so it is times like these that I really miss the beanery where I can sit, drink good coffee, and type on my own comfy computer. But cybercafes, as dirty and slow as they are, are not the worst in the world. I've been in Bangante for just about a week and a half. If there are some things I can say about the Peace Corps, it's that they actually really take good care of us now that we've begun. I've gotten some pretty good stipends so far, and they generally did a good job with the whole host family situation. So, my family: Mama, the grandmother to my siblings, owns a bar that is right in the middle of this compound near our house, but directly across from "la chefferie." Being the chief of the village. I can't say he runs this place, but he certainly has a large family with many wives, one of whom I have already managed to insult. I also have a little brother, a little sister, and 3 older brothers. Everyone is great, especially the little ones.

But boiling water to drink really makes me feel like I am asking too much. So I've resigned to just filtering and then bleaching. There is nothing like finding out the bad proportion of bleach to water but still knowing that it won't even really make me sick. So I've started emergen-C ing my water to make it more palatable. Although I'm not even sure that it really makes a difference, as I'm fairly certain I eat off of wet plates/snort water up my nose during bucket baths/and etc.

The issue of cleanliness is interesting. While many Cameroonians bathe multiple times a day, it isn't as common to find people washing their hands before eating. I am dirty according to Cameroonian standards, but I can't bring myself to augment my dry skin. Also, I got my hair did already. I now have a hairstyle that I liken to something out of Rugrats. But it'll be nice to not have visibly dirty hair, though I'm certain my family will notice. Another interesting thing is that we are in guava season!!! They are so good, and the best part is that Cameroonians LOVE green, unripe mangoes. This means that I only have to fight with the goats to eat the sweet, yellow ones.

Also, we were issued motobike helmets. Hoorah. This means I can ride a mototaxi if I need to. Only the day after we got our helmets, I realized, upon seeing a goat charging down the road after being scared shitless by a dog run into a mototaxi, that it is probably best if I stay off of those things for as long as I can. Besides, I'm really in no hurry as all I have to do is make it to class before 7:30 and be home generally around dark, I can take my time. Class is mind-numbingly long and if anyone thinks I want to go home to hang out in another french-only zone, you are seriously mistaken. I'd rather be drinking beer and eating popcorn/playing football.

Going out to Cameroon.

I think I'm going to change the lyrics to Josh Ritter's song "California" to make them appropriate to my new song "Cameroon." It doesn't have as many syllables, but I think it can work. Here goes it:

Goin' out to Cameroon
Gonna let the water warm my clothes
I’m alone but I’m not lonely
gonna trade the weather for the Western African coast
no don’t cry
I’ll be back and I’ll
bring the sun to shine
in your eyes
on your shoulders
Yaounde will be my new capital
Douala is a long drag for the lonely hearts
down along the east or west rainforests
runs a river of ancient history and beauty
don’t say
the trip’s been done
a hundred thousand times
cause this one
is mine
so I will work at what work finds me (agroforestry)
and I will take what comfort I can get
I’ll be back when I’m good and ready
Cameroon doesn’t seem to think I’m ready yet
no don’t cry
I’ll be back and I’ll
bring the sun to shine
in your eyes
on your shoulders

Okay, so it's not exactly poetry, but I think it will do for now. Maybe I'll be able to reinvent this song more creatively once I've had some long, lonely nights in my hut in a village somewhere in Cameroon.

I've had many goodbyes this past week. After a long weekend of prolonging my goodbyes, I had a dinner at Squirrels (aka my favorite establishment ever) with friends and got to say goodbye once more. I'm not so good at them, and I almost lost it several times. When I was saying goodbye to Chris, my housemate, I totally lost it. And then I lost it maybe 5 more times after that. And now that I am finally in Philly, awaiting my pre-departure staging, I am going to lose it several more times since I get to see my mom, my aunt, and my grandma this morning and then 3 close friends later tonight. It is so strange how moving usually isn't this big of a deal. I've gone several years without seeing some friends, but it feels harder because now I can't see them for several years. I'm not really sure why it feels like a bigger deal now. Maybe it's because I know I'm going to change. It's inevitable. When I think about how changed I was from my other major international travel (India, Kenya), I realize it's inevitable that my life will be different when I return to the states. Oregon is my heart; it's centering, it's majestic and wonderous and human (and to the other East coasters cosidering moving out there, I was told to tell you it's a terrible, awful place). But Oregon will be there when I get back. This trip has been a long time in the making and I know it's something I must do for myself. I just hope I don't get too weird or feel too out of sorts when I do return.

So that's my justification for leaving Oregon right now. That and there's no jobs for me. And I need more experience to better understand how my degree fits into the world. Anyway, I'm in Philly right now in a hotel waiting for my family to visit before we start the pre-departure staging (aka paperwork fillout time). I'm pretty sure I overpacked, as I can hardly lift my duffel bag. May need to reconsider what I'm bringing so I can send some stuff back with Mom before they leave. At least I decided to leave my laptop with her, as I strained my neck walking around Corvallis with it the other day.

And for those of you who were concerned about my swollen lymph nodes in my neck (sickness?)- they seem to be better today. It may have been stress-related or hay fever from the valley. But it appears as if I have poison oak on my legs. Ah, good times.

Next blog will be in Cameroon!!!

Pre-departure life in Corvallisl

So, here I am. Sitting, once again, at a fancy, overpriced coffee shop where if I don't know my fellow interwebers personally, at least I know their face. Corvallis, oh Corvallis. People keep asking how I'm feeling. Am I excited? Yes. But I am also every other emotion. The literal, physical being of emotion. I never know when my need to cry will hit me. This is why I've been avoiding drinking more than one or two beers at a time (beer tears are genetic, you know). Sometimes it hits when I'm sitting at home, alone, trying to deal with the fact that I am voluntarily leaving the first place that I've felt more than nostalgic love for. I can't believe I'm leaving Corvallis. (!#@%&$$#&^%$^@!!!!) It is such a wonderful life here. Granted, sometimes I get so sick of seeing the same faces on the same 40 streets over and over again. But, this is home, and home has lots of good, fancy, overpriced coffee.

I've lately been going on long runs at night. I like to leave my house right at dusk so that I get a little bit of the waning light coming over the coast range. Whenever I head west, I get lost in a trance from the purple illumination behind Mary's Peak. I think, also, that subconsciously I recognize that my ability to a) go on long runs while remaining culturally/socially sensitive, and b) to go out (safetly) at night, will pretty much not exist once I am in Cameroon. I'm just getting my fill of warm summer nights and intentional exercise.

I am also trying to get lots of "firsts" and "lasts" in. For example, I went with Carl and his workmates to the oh-so-classy Peacock breakfast. For those of you not from Corvallis, the Peacock is a shady, dive bar where I will only go when there is karaoke and/or I've had enough to drink. And it is open at 7 am for a 2 dollar breakfast. I found out that I actually love this breakfast and I wish I had gone before. Also, I rode the bus for my very first time with Brianna. I ride my bike everywhere, so I had it with me when we took the bus. I got to hook it up on the front rack and pull the stop chord when it was my stop. The bus took longer than if I had ridden my bike, but it was my first/last. Most of my first/last list consists of eating food. Because I love food.

Aside from my (exhausting) mental prep work (which mostly consists of me sitting in the living room with the dogs, alone, listening to NPR until I've heard Terri Gross's interview with Jean Simmons at least twice in one day), I'm doing some actual prep work. This consists of a little bit of everything. Selling two out of three of my most valuable possessions (subaru, canoe) and figuring out what to do with my third (my bat-mitzvah bike). I'm also trying to accept the fact that I'm going to have to store more stuff at my mom's house. This is, in all other accounts, the very wrong direction I should be moving my stuff, especially since my goal is to be entirely out of her house by the time I'm 30. So, to try to deal with this, I'm attempting to minimize my "stuff." This mostly consists of me bringing stuff to the Goodwill and throwing stuff (old cards/letters) away. I just need to remind myself of the Buddha's teachings on earthly possessions, and I'm a-ok. Thank goodness for being comfortably middle class. I also like to set aside a few things each day that I can absolutely not forget. After an hour or two of these prep exercises, I like to try to remember all of the items that might come in handy. However, these things usually pop into my head when I'm on the toilet, or riding my bike, or on a run, so my fleeting thoughts keep my purchases down.

I am getting so close that I am also not able to sleep very well. I have not-too-far removed memories of pre-defense sleepless nights. I guess the two day staging in Philly will sort of be like my defense. Can I get my act in order in time? Gosh, I hope so! In between enjoying Oregon recreation, I need to remember to set aside time to get my act together! If not, Corvallis will get to have my goodbye/welcome back party all in the same week!