Sorry.

There will be no posts for a while...the universe has other plans for me.

Here comes the sun...

I've always been an early riser. It's hard for me to recall a time when I've ever consistently "slept in". Okay, maybe the summer I was ten, but my room that summer was under the eaves of an old camp, and I could spend hours watching the shadows of the leaves cavort on the ceiling.

But naturally, I'm an early riser. Makes me a bit of an odd duck in theatrical circles, but....it is helpful to already be awake when someone from the East Coast forgets that there's three hours time difference until about the third ring....

I like getting up early because, in part, the world has a different kind of quiet in the early hours of the day. And my mind is at its most clear and functional, which also helps. Angled sun begins to stream through my skylights, the sound of coffee gurgling through, normal quiet house sounds. Nobody's rushing around yet. It's good. It's peaceful. And peaceful is what I need in my life right now.

This fall seems to be predisposed toward tumult. And to a certain degree, I have to embrace that. It's kind of like having to let yourself be carried by the rip tide, until your thrown free of it.

It's daunting, but I'll survive. I'll survive, in part, because of the quiet I find in the early morning sun.

good for the soul, good for the soles.

I just went for an hour long walk in and around my 'hood...it was indeed good for my soul. Walking some of the stress out. Having some solitude. Composing some of the various emails that must must must be sent this weekend.

So I'm sitting here cooling down (yes, at 7 am this morning it was already 78 degrees--welcome to my world) and figuring out what I can get off my plate today before I have a little outing adventure tonight. My dear friend (the person who really runs the School of Theatre Arts here!) has invited me to come up to her house and finish my syllabus poolside, and I think I might just take her up on that. I think the pieces of the class are beginning to come together--I've just been struggling with exactly what my pedagogical goals are for the class. I have some pretty concrete practical goals, which I'm excited about--but laying down the theoretical framework has been complicated by the fact that the materials out there on the topic are not...well, to be honest...useful...for those that are DOING the work in a real-time, real-life way.

On the up-side, if I attend to the work of the semester appropriately, I'll have at the very least an interesting pedagogical article out of it. At most: I could have the beginnings of a book outline.

Hmm. The thought of that both excites me and exhausts me. So I think I'll read yesterday's mail and throw myself in the shower.

O. M. G.

Classes haven't even started yet. And I am EX-HAUST-ED.

If I escape this semester without being meetinged to death, it will be an act of a higher power. It looks like I'll be spending roughly six hours a week in the classroom, and 30 hours a week in meetings. And I'll be in rehearsals from now until November 29th. And somewhere in there I have to prep for classes--oh, and defend. Let's not forget that. And let's not forget the yeoman's work necessary for that prep.

I nearly burst into tears at a meeting today--one that I had scheduled as "Interim Division Head" of my area....there's just way too much on my plate. But my new colleague was awesome, and immediately offered to take some of the load. She totally, completely rocks.

I don't think it would have been nearly so overwhelming if I hadn't been CORNERED in the restroom after a college-wide meeting by a development person who wanted me to speak to the Dean's Advisory Committee--in October. For the record: October is going to be HARD. Super Super Hard. I tried to get her to wait until the spring, but there was no way.

Now, I've always been pretty attached to a more pagan sense of the calendar...October has always been a kind of "completion" month for me, with November marking the transition into something new. But this year seems to be marking that even more so.

And really, I'm too tired and too wrought at the moment to go into it further. Perhaps a good night's sleep, and the miraculous appearance of that last syllabus, will cure what ails me.

Little Indulgences

While I am torn between attempting to get through creating my last syllabus tonight and spending my evening "lackadaisicalliciously" as I've promised a friend I would, I did just embrace one of my favorite little indulgences as a way to wind down this evening.

For a while, when I was growing up, my folks owned a commercial greenhouse and florist shop. It was one of the truly great parts of my childhood--despite the fact that my second grade field trip was to my house to study plants. Many of you know how much I love plants, and how soothing I find gardening. I trace it back to those childhood moments.

One of the things that always bothered my mom about owning the florist shop though, was that nobody ever gave her flowers. So now, my stepfather makes sure there are always fresh flowers in the house. Sounds expensive--but let me tell you, the grocery stores get their flowers the same place the high end florists do, and in quantities great enough to pass the savings on.

So today, I walked to the grocery store nearby--just to pick up a couple of things--and saw these gorgeous orange roses--for $6.99! A whole dozen! (As a side note, for the one or two boys that may read this, red roses are not necessarily mandatory--and actually, buying a girl roses that aren't read can often lead her to believe that you think she's more than your average red-rose kinda girl).

Like my mother, having fresh flowers in the house makes me happy.

So, I indulged.

Hillippines!

My friend the world traveler is safe and sound--in Manila! I just caught her online, checking her email, and didn't want to keep her--but seeing her name with that little green button alight next to it filled me with a surge of much-needed delighted energy. Thanks, dear!

Today has been long and at times tedious, but definitely had it's high moments, like the aforementioned traveler-sighting. I didn't sleep well last night--I never sleep well when the moon is full. But this morning, when I checked my email, I had a very nice affirmation from a former student, who is now teaching (at the middle school level, I believe). She was looking for an additional copy of some source material I had lent to her, because she's developing a unit around something similar--and she wanted to let me know that she is planning on using another assignment that I have developed to analyze plays. I consider that a mighty fine compliment.

So too, were the words of praise I received from another student, who stopped by my office this afternoon to update me on her summer doings. I confess, I felt guilty because I was in the middle of a project that needed completion (as tedious as it was), and I didn't feel like I devoted my full attention to her. But after about 15 minutes, when I gently told her I had to get back to work, she thanked me for my time, and told me it was nice to have a professor take interest in her not just professionally, but as a whole human being.

That was pretty cool.

So, in all, today was a good day.

...to review:

The thing about blogs...you may have this lovely insight or idea that hits you, say...in the wilds of Kent, Texas after having already driving about 3000 miles across country with your father...but if you don't have the opportunity to get that insight or idea on paper or recorded in the ether somehow AT THAT VERY MOMENT it simply never has the same precision, the same quality.

How do I capture the look shared between my father and I as we filled up at a gas station in Kent, Texas and realized that, while both of us probably should use the 'loo, neither of us was willing to traverse the haze of flies emanating from the facilities in order to do so...or my father's white knuckles as we tried to figure out the two-story monstrosity that is I-10 in San Antonio? During rush hour? I mean, it's a freakin' highway, people! What's with the second floor????

And how do I truly capture the chaos of realizing I was not going to be able to have any down time, any alone time, before my semester started? I knew I was cutting it tight, and that I would have less than a week to settle into my bones before I had a roommate until December--but what with the hole in my kitchen ceiling that greeted me--I literally was scrambling to get my house in order until about half an hour before my roomie arrived.

Oh, who am I kidding? I'm currently ignoring the two foot-high stacks of dissertation related material (mostly older versions of stuff) that are piled under the coffee table that need organization.

But the good news is I have a spanking new ceiling, and my leasing company has been SUPERB. And I'll have a new cupboard and new countertops as soon as the parts come in. Now, y'all know how I am about my kitchen. Not having my room of zen has been troubling. But it's operational at the moment, and that's all I can ask. So proper acknowledgment is due to Sara, my leasing agent go-to person, who has been awesome in all this; Tyler, the maintenance engineer; Jose, my roofer; Rich, the ceiling-fixer; and Chris (I think that's his name--he's Sara's dad), my cupboard and countertop guy. Sure, having someone step through your roof and not tell anyone is a major f*ck up--but that in no way means any of these people have been required to go so far above and beyond like they have. Tyler swung by when it looked like a storm was headed my way, because he hadn't been able to touch base with Jose about a temporary patch--so just in case, he went up on the roof with a tarp (Jose had already done the patch--and will be back this morning to do a more permanent fix). Sara called the day after we did have a storm, just to make sure there was no problem.

So, yes, I've had some issues here--but they are issues that I probably would have had anywhere (and did, in my little apartment that I had when I first returned to the desert--but without the incredible service and attention to detail I've had here). But I would totally recommend these guys to anyone.

Okay. I didn't intend for this to be an advertisement for my leasing company.

But now you've caught up on my life from last week. This week holds MEETINGS MEETINGS MEETINGS, finishing off syllabi, and creating a master calendar of DOOM. Good times.

Actually, most of the meetings will be with students (except Thursday and Friday), so that will be good. I'm looking forward to seeing them again.

Home is where the heart is...

and where the ceiling isn't.

Tucson has had a wetter than average monsoon season. And Jose, my roofer (and yes, I am not quite comfortable being on a first name basis with my roofer) thinks that one of the guys installing my new A/C recently put his foot through a patch in the roof and didn't tell anyone. This, added with the fact that I found my bathroom in dissarray and a couple of things broken, makes me a little...worried? peeeved? baffled? irate?--I suppose all of the above, by turns.

At any rate.

It wasn't until after I got home from Trader Joe's with a few foodstuffs that I noticed that there was a section of my kitchen ceiling about eighteen inches around being held together by the paint. Well, a quick call, and the roofer was here a half hour later--but he can only do a temporary patch for the weekend (and yes, we're expecting rain) and will have to replace rotting roof Monday or Tuesday of next week. And has suggested that they not fix the inside until after that.

Well.

I got up this morning, and took the picture that you see above. Obviously, the paint didn't hold. Thankfully, I emptied the cupboards in that corner last night (and am still in the process of cleaning some of the contents. But at this point, I expect they'll not only replace the ceiling, but at least one portion of the cupboard and the countertop--the latter being one of those 70s pressboard and laminate numbers that has now warped at the seam.

All of this, while I have a to-do list a SMOOT long. And only a week of solitude before I have a roomie for four months.

And yet, in all, life is still good.

Ecstasy

Tomorrow, I sleep in my own bed.

For the first time in 39 days.

As I am evidently wont to say in my sleep:

Wahoo!

Ah...

I have stories to tell...and hope to have the memories of them for quite some time to come.

When I have more time, I'll need to share the stories my grandfather did, of his first "job" at 8, and of his caddying for 25 cents a round...and how he preferred to caddy for the ladies....and of my stepgrandfather, regaling us with stories of his wife breaking her foot in a frisky christening of one of their new homes...

But I've shared to much merlot this evening, and have to be up for breakfast in the morning...so those tales will have to wait.

But somebody needs to tell me how you can break yourself of the crystalline magic of a moment to do something as unemotional and studied as remember to start a recorder as those stories unfold....

Mouse-adjacent

We made it to Orlando yesterday, on another day without incident. In the last hour of our trek to my aunt and uncle's we did get caught up in some significant rubber-necking traffic, as in a microburst-type storm, a semi jackknifed on I-4 heading east, and a school bus ran into it. The good news: all 29 kids on the bus are safe and sound--thanks to quick thinking on the bus driver's part, the injuries were very minor.

So today has been a down day--I've finished one of my syllabi (or nearly so--there are a couple of spots in the course calendar that require me to make some decisions on reading material), done some laundry, and found the post office and the CVS. I should crack open some educational philosophy that needs to go into Chapter Two, but I keep getting interrupted.

Still, having my own space for a couple of nights is a gift from the gods!

Another gift: my grandfather is back home in his little apartment. We had made these plans to come down for his birthday quite some time ago, and then at the beginning of July, he was hospitalized with a blood clot that ran from his knee to his groin. They managed to fix that, but while he was in rehabilitation he contracted some kind of infection, and they wouldn't let him go home until it cleared up. So we weren't sure where (or what!) we'd be celebrating this weekend. Thankfully, he was released from rehab this morning, and my other aunt and uncle, who flew down from Maine yesterday, are getting him squared away at home. I think he's mainly happy to be there so he can get some exercise. Not sure what the deal is with the rehab place, but they stopped doing anything resembling "rehab" about two weeks ago, and didn't leave his walker handy, so he's been a bit stuck.

So tomorrow morning we making the short two-hour drive to Largo, and get to spend some time with my grandfather. I'm looking forward to seeing him.