Having a hard time finding my groove in the post-conference brain fog. If I ever get to go again, I will definitely try to book some vacation time immediately following. Seems three days of trying to drink from a fire hydrant (and I'm not referring to the literal H2O, although there was that, too) requires at least three more days of processing, follow-up writing, and rest. But alas, there's this nasty business of making a living. Winter weather, a sick hubby, and an upcoming essay due in my Public Admin course are not making reality any more palatable, either.
It reminds me of being a kid, when the highlight of my entire year was a week at summer camp. Every year when I returned home, no one could live with me. I like to think I've matured since then, but on the inside the little girl is missing camp.
However painstaking, I'm pleased to say some progress was made today as my desk is finally tidied to the point of elbow room at least. Newly acquired books are on the shelf. Trip expenses recorded and receipts filed. Next week's newspaper column is written. The rest will wait, while I cling to Psalm 103:13-14: "As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust..."
Feeling fragile like dust. And that's okay.
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