Holding Pattern

No, that does not describe my holiday travels. We, in fact, are staying home.

If you didn't know, there's not an airline around who'll accept to fly a woman who is 34-weeks pregnant without a doctor's order; and there are few of us who could afford the bribe necessary to get a doctor to write such an order, or the one necessary to get an entire flight of passengers and crew to pretend they don't notice. All that said, what woman 34-weeks pregnant would even want to fly?

Chanukah was pleasant and mostly uneventful. Rocket's folks will arrive to visit for a week on December 26. I've decided that I'll mostly take the week off. Hence the holding pattern.

I've realized I'm in that odd state between things where the old is not quite extinguished, and the new not yet inflamed. It's finding the energy to clear out the ashes in between that takes the most effort.

I started writing the brief bio I committed to. I'm still undecided on the book chapter. I'll yet have more than a week to deal with that after the new year.

I spent a little time looking over things. I've got a white board on the wall facing my desk that is filled with projects and ideas for my research firm. I've hardly looked at it these past couple months. I glanced over some of the attempts I had made in September, before I was mistakenly led to believe I'd be getting programming help for my proofs-of-concept. It's been eight months since I defined the first proof-of-concept, which I had initially hoped to have for August, then wished to complete by the end of the year. I've been clearing away the hurdles and debris that have been holding me back.

I back-burnered my research when the term began at Lemon four months ago; it's going to take me a bit of time to get back into a routine. But that's exactly what I intend to do. This (teaching at Lemon) was a good experiment for me, one which failed, but which nonetheless taught me something. The summer had been quite productive for me. I was excited and impassioned. I had hopes that I'd be able to continue that, while also teaching adjunct.

Now I realize that teaching (82 students as the term began, eventually dropping to 75 in the end) consumed far more time and energy than I had expected (not to mention the 9-12 hours weekly commute), and was thus incompatible with my plans to make strides in my research. When it's a choice between teaching and research, it's the latter that most drives me.

It will be a couple weeks until both Rocket and I are settled into our new roles (I, no longer the teacher; she, no longer the actively employed). I suppose just when we think we've settled, son #3 will arrive and upset the apple cart again. There are no deadlines for life. What remains for us now is to learn (once again) how to live.