I have been working my ass off.

I forget that. I have been recovering from endless bouts of gastrointestinal illness, and reading endless novels by Faye Kellerman and Sue Grafton (available for real cheap at many nice li’l spots in Accra) and sleeping and not being terribly social, and I have neglected to notice that I have been working my ass off.

Creating, and organizing, and constantly teaching, and publicizing, and defending, my two brand-new Theater and Performance Clubs, and training Sarah and Priscilla to take over from me in less than two months, and supplying folks with snacks, and keeping track of a budget, and getting ready for a big show, and commuting, is a lot of work.

And I am pretty bloody proud that I have done said work.

I blog now only briefly.  I’m on vacation in Cape Coast, and after I eat lunch, go to the bank, and do a li’l souvenir shopping, I’m going to see the slave castle at Elmina.  All terribly restful, of course.  But I get to walk and be by the beach, and I get to be alone, and I’m staying in a hotel where it’s quiet.  Where no one is playing the radio at wall-shaking volumes in the middle of the night or screaming across the courtyard at each other at six in the morning.  Where I don’t have to open my door to go to the bathroom.  Where I can walk to the beach rather than take several tro-tros.

And you know what?  I deserve it.  And I’m proud that I deserve it.

This is my public statement.  More to come, particularly about my classes, when I’m more in the mood.