When we came home tonight the neighborhood was filled with the music of Bamba. Our street is a fast one that intersects a real hippy neighborbood with a real urban D.C. neighborhood. There are African Americans, Puerto Ricans, Germans and a muscian from New Orleans (he plays the tuba and makes a living at it! It's fascinating) all living within my tiny block.

I talked to the school I'll be teaching at yesterday and I think I had a panic attack thinking about the full-time commitment -- how will I write? When will I ever complete my exams? I guess the same way I've done every thing else -- by the skin of my teeth. I finally wrote my first question, but I haven't yet gotten a response back from my committee chair, so who knows what she thinks.