Both hands, alternatively.

On the one hand, I am so excited that I'm going to see my daughter in Boston tomorrow. On the other hand, sometimes I miss the Scotlands so much it makes me a little bit sick inside.

On the one hand, I roasted a lovely piece of squash tonight with the intention of making risotto. On the other hand, by the time the squash was roasted, risotto seemed like kind of a big project, so we ate leftovers.

I find this time of year so beautiful. The early darkness, however, is like automatic melancholy.

On the one hand, I'm glad it's basketball season, but it would be nice if the Jazz weren't making me bite my nails in this last minute of the game (and then losing, dadgummit).

On the one hand, the guy who came to deliver our new-to-us retro-tastic cobalt blue sectional sofa (we can have Jazz game watching parties! board game parties! Mad Men watching marathons!), which we purchased from The Green Ant, said he's never before delivered anything out in our neck of the woods. On the other hand, he said he knew which house it was by the Obama sign.