Defined.

Grace = waking up in the morning feeling like everything is just wrong and out of control and illogical. Then, throughout the day, nearly every little thing you've been hoping would fall in place simply does, and pretty damn seamlessly at that. You go to bed feeling content, supported, loved, and lucky.

Love = a somewhat spontaneous dinner out with your cohort (in graduate school, this translates into "six inextricably connected chicks") that ends up turning into a three hour marathon laugh-fest, at freakin' Chipotle of all places (for us, a cohort favorite). We took over the one big table in the restaurant and were undoubtedly the loudest people in there. I couldn't possibly ask for a more supportive group of friends. (There was even a giggle-infested, fantastically awkward "laying of hands" on my brain while shivering in the Chipotle parking lot. I love us.)

If you have to experience a Brain Surgery Eve Eve, this is certainly the way to do it.
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Tomorrow is filled with preparation chaos -- I have check-in/registration, pre-op labs, and a pre-op MRI in the morning/early afternoon (I know it sounds odd, but if you're the praying or energy focusing type, please place said energy on the desire for the cyst to be the same size or perhaps even bigger than it was in November. If there's been any decrease in size, shit could get really complicated again.). I'll be hauling ass straight from the hospital to the airport to pick up my dad and stepmom, and then I imagine the rest of the day will be filled with errands, getting settled in, and some BFF time.

This is pretty damn surreal, friends.