Tomorrow morning, pre-dawn, I leave Philly and return to Chicago.
I’m there for three days of class and working in the newspaper office and then it’s to Iowa to tape episodes of Love of Quilting with Mom. After we wrap TV, I go back to Chicago, and then I go to New England on assignment.
School began last week, and I love everything. I’m reading Mann’s Dr. Faustus; I’m polishing up an essay I worked on this summer so that I can fork it over in workshop next week; I’m preparing for a newspaper staff retreat tomorrow and an open meeting for writers on Monday.
It does feel sometimes that I do not know how to do less than this.
I’m not beleaguered. I’m not complaining. I’ve chosen all these activities, all these tasks. I’m the one who can stay put. Only I can say “later”, or say “no”. But I don’t. I never do. Not unless I’m forced to, and whatever tries to force me has to get past me first. I’m not competitive with other people, but I try to best myself every day. Is it a fair fight? Me against me?
I met so many incredible quilters these past two days in the Philly area. No matter where I go, no matter how tired I might be or how many other things are weighing down on me, quilters bolster me, build me up. It happens every time and it’s real.