I'm not sure I will ever again be capable of stringing more than two words into any sequential sense. I am that tired.
Our Chicago accomodations were rather, um, spartan, given the cost. We had to wait half an hour on the dinner reservations so carefully made and confirmed. Our Ohio State Son succumbed to the effects of the previous week-end's partying and slept for two days. I stayed behind in Chicago Son's apartment Saturday night where the word "spartan" hardly does justice to what I encountered. As far as I can recall, we did send all of our children off to college with a full complement of towels, bedding, and other life basics, of which one graying towel seems to be all that remains.
On the plus side, we met Chicago Son's charming girlfriend and on Friday we went to the Shedd Aquarium and on Saturday Chicago Son and I made the seven-or-or-so mile walk from Hyde Park to downtown (something I have wanted to do since my first look at that path along Lake Michigan on my first trip to Hyde Park a few years ago) and on Sunday we found a fabulous Italian restuarant for dinner.
I spent Monday visiting Windy City Seminary, and came home somewhat overwhelmed by the combined sense of what a spectacular privilege it would be to spend three years immersed in life at either of the two seminaries I have visited and what a daunting task it would be to reorganize my existence to embrace that new life.
My mixed feelings of elation and apprehension merged into complete exhaustion on the flight home. I can't claim to have been revived by the discovery that, with exactly four weeks to go before Christmas and absolutely nothing done in preparation and nary a vacation day ahead of me and a house in desperate need of a thorough top-to-bottom scrub with a Brillo pad, my husband had decided to use his free time on Sunday to rip off the wallpaper and knock out the damaged plaster from an entire corner of the dining room. Down to the studs. Wallpaper that was damaged by a leak oh...maybe a decade ago. In a room where thirty or forty people will gather in EXACTLY TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS.
My husband does not know how to plaster. Neither do I.
I am dealing with my complete disorientation, and with the fact that in a little while I have to prepare and teach four classes, by playing with my new images from Chicago. The one above was taken near the Bond Chapel on the University campus. There is something about those twisty arches and sharp points and the stark backlighting that exactly reflects my mood at this precise moment.