I'm at work 2 hours early today to center myself and wrap my head around the presentation I'm going to give at 9:40am for the astronaut reunion.

I didn't wear a suit. Just an ironed version of a nicer outfit I'd wear to work anyway. It reflects the sane part of my brain that's telling me I'm wayyyyyyy overthinking this. And actually, I am only halfway to overthinking it. Mostly, it's a major blip on my radar but not an obsession. In fact my charts were made up last minute, probably as another way to prove to myself it's not big deal. And it's OK that in the schedule, they listed me as "Ms. Tara Ruttley" instead of "Dr. Tara Ruttley." You didn't think I'd email them back about the correction did you? How snobby would that sound?

It was still dark as I was driving in, and as I approached the front gates at JSC, the sun was rising behind the outlines of the model rockets and familiar buildings I was headed for. The sliver of a crescent moon hung low directly over it all and Rob Thomas came on the radio, all a scene given to me to calm me the hell down. There are people out there wondering how to feed their families and here I am, a nutso "problem" in comparison...only being handed a reminder of how the Universe can put you smack in the place you belong, for better or worse, headed for an outcome that's supposed to make you stronger and leave you with grand new realizations.

I get it: I'm not in those seats today with those astronauts, listening to someone talk about the space station. The irony is that I'm at the podium. Talking to the group I'm supposed to be in. Or not supposed to be in. It really is all good.

As I approached the gates, "Brick House" came on. I turned it up.

I turned my headlights down for the front gate security guard. I sat in my car for just a few extra minutes to stare at the building I was headed for: 4S, where I sit in offices on the 3rd floor and the astronauts sit on the 5th and 6th. I said good morning to the cleaning ladies. I took the usual stairs.

No one's here yet. That's the point. Well, time to prep.