Monday morning in stop time

As in, every time I start to do something this morning, I get going on it, and then have to stop and try to remember what exactly that something was. That, my dears, is the wages of sipping a glass of wine after last night's and staying deep in conversation with friends until an hour closer to my usual wake-up time than my usual bedtime. The fabled Massé wit is slow and bleary and weary. There is something in the dorm we are assigned every year that stuffs up my nose and gives me a little low-lying headache around the fourth day or so. Thank you in advance for suggesting the fault may lie not in the dorm but in the wine. Wine-free weeks here have yielded the same results.

But the faculty concert was great and I was too energized to lie down for what my 5th grade Health textbook called "making nightly deposits in the sleep bank". My teaching colleagues here at Yale inspire and and inform me, and I am once again, very grateful to be part of this organization. Their brilliance does keep me awake long after the performance.

But how do I energize myself today? At the moment I am listening to the Red Stick Ramblers, and dancing in my room. Using energy breeds more energy, that's the theory, and when the using involves dancing to something with an irresistible pulse, more energy does show up, accompanied by joy. And a sense of being silly, if someone catches you at it. Now why's that? when what I really need at that moment is someone to dance with. I do get spoiled at Ashokan, no doubt about it.