I am going to make it through this year if it kills me.

My Lawrence is finally home for a few days from roaming the earth and going back and forth within it.  He's lying on the sofa opposite me, stretched out, also writing an LJ.  We're mirror images of each other. He's had a terribly hard time of it with all the travel he's doing, and it's not over yet.  He still has a trip coming up this weekend, and then he's going to have to go away again at least once more before the end of the month, and then again in January to New Orleans.  I'm hoping very much to go with him on that trip as I've missed the last several either for work or childcare, but we're not sure we dare leave the kids with their mother for a few days while I come along.  I also may no longer be sentient after this quarter ends, having been informed today that I'm somehow to fit two months worth of what would ordinarily be intense and non-stop work into the next three weeks.  Yeah, no biggie.  Why not.

We're listening to the Mountain Goats, incidentally.  We are going to make it through this year if it kills us.

One nice thing -- my sociolinguistics workshops are being met with great enthusiasm.  I'm pondering the possibility of striking out on my own to do management communication consulting.  I would probably have to work just as hard, if not harder, though, and that's really just not acceptable.  As it is, I'm exhausted.  But of all crazy things, I love the public speaking part of my job as much as I love the research.  Meh, I'd miss the research, though.  I live for it and all.

L's finished his post, so I'll quit blathering in mine.  It would have gone somewhere, honest, but I do want to spend a little time with him again before he disappears on a plane or drives off again, leaving me in the house wishing he were next to me just a little longer, just a little while more.