You see, I've been to the desert.

A group of us, all having flown in from the Midwest and recently cool weather, made sounds of pure pleasure upon walking into air conditioned buildings. The contrast was rather exquisite - the chill of the interior air against the unrelenting heat outdoors.

"I'm sorry," I said to our guests at dinner with a gentle smile, "but when the temperature is over 105, I don't think this 'dry' you throw in front of 'heat' matters much. It's just very, very hot." They defended their choice of home and I nodded politely, and dearly hoped it would cool by the time we emerged from the restaurant several hours - and thousand dollars - later.

"From inside the car?" I said later, "I think it's gorgeous." And, again, I'll point to my enjoyment of contrasts. The lush green that surrounds my current home was lost in the stark landscape - mountains and valleys, rocks and gravel and sand. I sent a shocked look toward Adam when he said it would be fun to hike around the area. "One hundred five degrees," I said slowly, shaking my head.

"I'd probably dry out like a raisin," he agreed after thinking for a moment, soon distracted by the huge car that cut us off near the intersection that held our turn.

As my second business trip with Very Important Collaborators, I think it was a good one. I made some minor missteps, but befriended a good number of people and at least held my own with the rest. I giggled over wine and seafood, chatted technical details at a hospital cafeteria, and watched my filmy skirt flutter around my knees as I trudged through the oppressive heat from building to building.

"Do you think," I asked Adam as I examined the landscape one last time on my way back to the airport, "only the old cacti get to have arms?" He blinked at me before squinting out the window himself then shrugged. I mused that one might have to grow up - extend energy to reach toward the unrelentingly sunny skies - before growing appendages.

Perhaps I should try harder to grow up, wincing as I recalled I left meetings to take a conference call that was probably far less important. I'm still pushing outward - trying to make everyone like and respect me - rather than pushing upward and making sure the right people think I'm doing quite well.

It's sometimes hard, but I keep returning to lessons from the academic portion of my life. I'm making lists and checking email less often. I'm working from home when it helps me to focus and I'm taking time to sleep and spend hours with my parents as they visit. I'm nearing the end of unpacking, aided by the plethora of storage space in this house that's too large for me. Growing up, one might say (if one were being a bit overly fanciful, I suppose). And eventually I'll work on my arms.