For real, yo.

I feel pretty certain that my life could be labeled "Workshop" right now, and it wouldn't be a misnomer. Or perhaps "Woman at Work." The past month has seen me turning from task to task.  Most, to be sure, have been joyfully undertaken and even more joyfully experienced.  There was the writing of a major speech and the delivery of said speech; there were audience members (my parents included) who cried; there were students who graduated, and we all cried; there was grading, which went from nonstop to completed in an unthinkably short time; there was the two-day drive back to the monastery and the three days of total silence; there was the two-day drive home and the return to the lovely site of my graduate career; there was the writing workshop that went better than any of us had even dared to hope it could; there was the visit of dear friends and a small person godbaby; there is now the preparation for yet another trip, this one to the other side of the country, from where I hope to write more of substance than I've been able to summon up of late.