So I did not die, nor did I forget about this blog. I've been trying to get to Ireland.
Monday was full of packing. Tuesday was the flight from hell that leaked into Wednesday's arriving and jetlag, and today is Thursday.
Turns out I'm lucky to even be here, because United shut down right after I got in? Also, US Airways booted me off my flight with no explanation, handed me a receipt, and told me to go to United because I was their problem now.
I was then given a middle seat, which I obviously couldn't take because of my leg, Catholic-guilted a lady into switching with me (or at least that's what she said I did), and then the lady asked me what I did for a living.
"I'm a student and a writer."
She made a face that tells me she was not all that impressed with my occupation, nor my ability to take her seat.
I arrived in Shannon, where the amazing Annie Deppe rescued me and let me nap for a bit before taking us students through Southern Ireland and showing us the tops of the Dingle mountains. It was gorgeous.
We are currently in Dingle, we have started our residency, and I am just now getting over the jetlag.
The first day of residency was exciting and just reinforced how lucky I am to be in this program and be here in Ireland. It's a gorgeous place, and the one thing that made me burst out crying at the end of the day was my leg.
My stupid eejit leg.
Yesterday, I was walking into town with everyone else, trying to keep up, and my leg just couldn't do it. Of course there was too much adrenaline for me to realize this, and my leg so kindly reminded me last night when it woke up in searing pain.
I have been told it would not be a good idea for me to go to the Blasket Islands this weekend. And while I know in my heart this is true, I'm still holding out and hope for a miracle that perhaps ... maybe ... my leg will miraculously come around between now and Saturday night.
As for writing, I've been pecking away at my book, as usual. It sounds like my workshop is positive about it, but we workshop tomorrow, so we'll see how it goes. I'm nervous, of course. But at least it sounds like it's running in the right direction now.
Oh, and. There is a dolphin. One lone dolphin in Dingle Bay. His name is Fungi. They really love Fungi here. There is a bronze statue to Fungi, and no less than three boats were stalking him last night in the water. I would know, I was on one of them.
What is this?
Dawson is a writer. This is her blog. In it, you shall read about reading. And writing. And cheeseburgers. Sometimes there are tangents. Huzzah.