I'm up at 5 a.m. my time. Two days after I arrived home with the drum I had bought from the musicians at Tukumbo, and the three little wooden chairs I had lugged in my ten-ton luggage, and the bright green and blue and yellow African cloths folded and stuffed into every odd corner of my carry-on and my memory of roasted mice on a stick by the side of the road (no, I didn't eat any), and the kids playing soccer with a "ball" made of plastic bags smushed together, wound round and round withy black string and C greeted me at the airport and took me home to my room where Ruth had lovingly left big purple orchids to greet me, jet lag has finally set in.

Thirty or more hours of traveling, airports in Lilongwe, Johannesberg, London, New York, and San Francisco. Phew! Last night I crawled into bed at 9:45 p.m. Up again at 3:30, wide awake. Okay, it's going to be like this for awhile. Try to go swimming as soon as possible.

I have greeted my roommates and made a few phone calls. I have showered and unpacked. I have walked on Alameda Beach in the moonlight and gone to Trader Joe's and had a cup of C's excellent strong coffee, and a big salad with feta cheese and black olives. I have eaten potato chips--too many potato chips. I have paid bills and deposited checks. I have laid out the presents I bought and tried to figure out who to give them to. I have lost track of time and forgotten my brother and sister-in-law's birthdays. I have written the first paragraph of an essay about Malawi. am going back to bed now, and will blog again later.