Five year have passed, since our old friends all exclaimed

[Portia]

... "why rush to waste it away? Don't hang your ambition and sense out to dry"

Bonus points if you can name this song sans Google.

In five years, I'll have just celebrated my 30th birthday. I imagine the future to include some combination of writing & journalism, libraries, tech companies, small Intermountain Towns, Large Coastal Towns, and dashing good looks and mordant wit. Thirty also seems like a good age for me to have a kid, if that's what I'm gonna do. I hope to be married most of those five years, so I'll throw in a prediction that my putative husband drags me along to a fabulous job opportunity in Argentina, which necessitates me learning Spanish. I'll use the German I will have learned in the meantime with the nonagenarian Nazis.

I don't expect to be rich in five years, but perhaps in fifteen.

(Tata Kirke. YOU no doubt will be rich in five years. Thanks for the entertainment and gravitas.)

[Katya]

Farewell Kirke!

[Giovanni Schwartz]

And Sky Bones!