Yesterday.

4pm.   Production meeting for Silence. I was so excited to be sitting at a table with such a brilliant design and management team that I do believe I babbled a bit.   I did, at least, succeed in not dumping my bag everywhere as I dug for a pen, which is what usually happens since I tote my scattered brain around on my shoulder.

And yet, this is where I am the most at ease in my excitement.   This is where I belong.   I am a producer/direct above all.   A discovery I made late-ish in my career.   An unexpected, enlightening, and inspiring discovery.   So, to sit in a tea shop faced with talent that is destined to soar is truly awe-inspiring.

I can forgive myself for the babbling when I am faced with dreams coming true.

6:15pm. Rain. Rain. Rain.

6:45pm. Boston University. Opening Reception for the Institute for Non-Profit Management and Leadership. I was late.   I was wet.   I was cold.   I smilingly accepted my name tag and secured directions to the ladies room because the minuscule droplets of rain were quickly gathering in the folds of my face and becoming rivers.   I needed a moment to collect myself.   I didn’t get it since I arrived just in time to hear watch the welcome speeches in the vacuumous (yes, that is now a word if it wasn’t before) atrium.   As I stood there, dripping and name-tagged, absorbing an excitement similar to that I felt just an hour earlier, I suddenly realized that the sole reason for this reception was for me to walk around, introduce myself to complete strangers, and make worthwhile conversation.

This might be where I forgot to breath for a second.

Schmoozing is completely out of my comfort zone.   I’m not bad at it and I don’t dislike it, it just requires concentration and fortitude.   You’d think after the awe of my previous meeting, I’d be golden, but the rain must have washed some of me away.

With the speeches over, I retreated to the ladies to powder my nose and returned with a sigh, determined to either find a single person standing and waiting for a conversation, or butt-in to a group.   My one goal: not to stand around feeling idiotic.

I succeeded.   I felt fine.   But after several months hiatus from explaining the mission of GAN-e-meed to multiple professionals in an evening, I was definitely out of practice.

8pm. I drove home in the rain.   Picked up an over-tired child.   Read a little Moss Hart and snuggled up in bed.

This is the good life.