I went back to workshops this morning, and spent the day in a tug-of-war with myself regarding whether or not I actually like teaching. It's such culture shock to return to school after summer vacation. Suddenly I'm thrust back into a crowd of several hundred people, all of whom expect that I've done really exciting things this summer (and they want to hear about them so that they can tell me about their really exciting things). I talked to more people today than I did between July 1 and yesterday. I'm not kidding.
Last night I went to a wake in St. Cloud and saw Mark the funeral director, who I haven't seen since just after we buried my grandma. It was cool to see him and talk with him. The last time I actually saw him I was working on a story that took place largely in a funeral home and needed some info. He generously took me on a tour of the place and showed me everything he could legally show. His openness about the death process and the funeral business started some unused cells working in my brain. More on this later--I don't want to jump the gun.
So, after the quietness of summer, of the wake, of seeing only people I want to see, suddenly I am thrust back into reality. No more time to read and write whenever I want. Not so much of the "me" time I so enjoy.
In short, the vacation is over, kids. Mama's goin' back to work.