The first of July already. And starting on a Sunday. I hope that is auspicious. This morning I walked in a different neighborhood than usual. I was taken by how lovely it is, and how many people have taken what they have – an older bungalow home with a smallish lot – and made it beautiful with little details. They didn’t move to a different neighborhood, a suburban one with new houses (gasp – I don’t like new houses at all as a rule.) They made what they have work in a beautiful way. Well, many of them did. Not all, but enough.

Today Mayaoel and I bought more plants for our Peace garden. We now have amassed the following plants: two Peace roses, one Black Garnet rose, two English Lavendar plants, two Bergamot (bee-balm) plants, several Calibrachia and a perennial morning glory. We will plant them with the star jasmine that is already on the fence. We have a cement goose to put in there, and a clay bowl for sand which will hold candles, incense and some beach glass. A bench and a string of prayer flags and we might just be good to go. Being a grandmother is a blessing.

How can it be that someone who is so talented in one area can be all but incapacitated in another? I used to wonder if S. had been locked up for some years – his unawareness of all things modern and worldly is uncanny. But after knowing him for several years, and seeing that his awareness has not expanded appreciably in that time, I have changed my opinion. I think he is locked in his own small circle of world, within which he is remarkably able. It is outside that realm – where he must walk in the world – that he falters.

This morning I weighed myself for the first time in quite a while. I wonder how I got here and why I haven’t managed to turn the needle’s climb before now. Can I do it now? I realize it will take more than thought or good intentions. It will take more than a morning walk, although even that is more than I’ve been doing in a long while. I’m afraid to join the gym again, because what if I don’t go again? It is more than the waste of money, it is the lying to myself that I can’t face.

We’re having a heat wave. It’s brutal – my little window a/c unit only goes so far. It’s best to sit right in front of it. I keep watering the yard and flowerpots, like that will help. Whatever – I go to Barnes & Noble at night to take advantage of their air. I drink ice green tea and read magazines or write. Or talk to friends I find there. I hope July hurries by. There’s not much to enjoy about it, actually. I’m repenting not going out on a limb to buy that big air-conditioned house with a pool last winter.

OMG – it is unbearably hot here. When I travel in tropical countries I tolerate the heat without any complaint. I just move slowly, eat unusual foods and get used to being kind of wet. But at home, it is worse for some reason. Here it doesn’t rain for anything, even if it is muggy. In tropical countries it usually rains in the afternoon which gives at least temporary relief. I guess the strangeness of it all makes the swelter seem like part of the romance of travel. At home, it’s just miserable. At home I just try not to move.

Today is Mayaoel’s eighth birthday. She invited four girlfriends to go to the ceramics studio for a birthday party. They all painted coffee cups, ate cake and went home. Easy peasy. Definitely better than a party at home. It was fun to spend time with other kids her age, just to see how they act. It seems like kids grow up earlier each generation. Not that these girls acted other than eight years old, but it’s coming. These little girls were sweet and treated each other well. I look forward to seeing their development in the next few years.

Today I spent the afternoon outside, at Mayaoel’s barbecue. I can’t believe how easily I am conquered by the heat. I forget to drink enough water, and then feel this undefined sickness and anxiety that just lays me out. I wonder if this is connected to the time I had heat exhaustion (sunstroke?) when I hitch-hiked across Canada 35 years ago. I mean, does the body retain heat-sickness memory and just give in? Or is this just an expectable response to dehydration and I should just get over it and remember to drink water? Probably. How long until it rains?

Today is my first day of three as substitute principal for the junior high summer school. Initially I was appalled by how brusquely the adults speak to the students. Most of the kids are those who didn't pass eighth grade, so some attitude issues can certainly be expected. After judging the adults all morning, I spent the lunch on the playground with the kids. After lunch my attitude was “What a bunch of little shit heads!” Mind, I am not generalizing. There are some nice kids here, absolutely. But I now understand how complicated and needy this age group is.

Today the biggest crisis was Zachary, a smart, funny eighth-grader who needed to poop and didn’t want to use the boys’ bathroom. He said he’d try to wait until school was out. The next time I saw him he had called his mom at work to come get him. When she didn’t arrive, he asked to use the teachers’ restroom. I sent him to ask the security guard, forgetting that I am the principal and can give permission for whatever I want to. He asked me to guard the door, and in he went. Crisis averted. A complicated age indeed.

I had an interesting conversation with a tiny hyperactive sixth grader today. He told me about how it is to be like he is. He says he has to be moving all the time, and if he can’t move he talks. He says that if teachers understand this and let him move around some, he generally does a little more work and has fewer problems in class. When forced to sit still, he gets in trouble because stillness isn’t possible for him. These are the kids that are dropping out in droves. I see it coming already and it hurts.

Kymm is sending some ammazing photos of Colorado. She reminds me of the trips I have taken to the Southwest where I take the laptop and download the photos right away to see if I need to take more of something. She was aghast that I missed the lavendar farm right before harvest. I promised some photos which would exonerate me, but I’m not traveling. I’m walking through my neighborhood, looking for color and that certain play of light. I have my eye on a giant red hibiscus on 20th street. It will glow in the first light of morning.

It’s Friday the Thirteenth. Today is the sonogram to determine what the lump in my breast might be. Instinctively I would say it is a cyst. It hurts and came suddenly and large. Yet, one never knows. Fear nestles in there deeply, reminding me occasionally that I am mortal. That my self care is far from perfect. That I haven’t lived the life I mean to live. I keep that in the future, filling the present with nothing – empty time fillers in between moments of living. If it turns out benign, will I use the fear to spur growth anyway?

This morning Mayaoel and I began planting our peace garden. We planted perennial morning glory, calibrachoa, bergamot and lavendar. Tomorrow we will plant two peace roses and a black garnet rose. We’ll continue to plant as we find plants we like. We placed a goose in the garden, and a clay bowl which we’ll fill with sand, a candle, incense, some sea shells and other offerings that occur to us. We hung prayer flags, and then sat on the back porch and took turns offering prayers to the universe. I hope the neighbor’s cats don’t shit in the offering bowl.

The Law of Attraction works. It’s simple. You must have a clear vision of what you want, and then work that picture – add detail to it, see it with little embellishments, so the Universe knows you are serious and specific. Yesterday I was told there was no way I could get a hotel room with two beds for the weeklong conference I’m attending. They said I’d have to request a rollaway bed for my daughter. All the way here I thought about my room with two beds and a view of the golden bridge. And that’s the room I got.

Walking on eggshells. That’s how it is now, and I’m getting fed up. It is impossible to have a private conversation when he is in the room. Questions are met with an aggressive attitude, or patient explanations delivered with a sigh. Registrations for this conference have gotten screwed up and I am trying to fix it. I have no desire to cast blame on anyone, just to make it okay. Does the defensiveness relate to paperwork that sat on a desk too long? One wonders. Now he’s been given a promotion to lower management. Now will he be even worse?

Today was a day of such stress for me – bordered on anxiety. Close to an attack even maybe. No dinner, just work all day too tired to work at night but too nervous to eat. I feel like I need to hit the refresh button – send the little green arrows swirling around and come out the other side energized, vibrant. Cause I’m not. Vibrant or energized. It’s funny how low energy I am until I am on stage, so to speak, when I become lively and have lots to say. Then back to blahdom. It’s almost creepy. On and off.

Today was better. I’m getting the rhythm of the saints I guess. Tonight I even went out to dinner with my friends. Friends, yeah. I guess that’s it. We went to a place called Aioli which serves tapas, little plates of appetizers sort of. It is a nice way to eat – one wouldn’t imagine that such a little bit of food would fill you up. I like it a lot – certainly takes care of portion control. And they don’t bring it all at once, so it helps with speed as well. Pain to make though. Too many ingredients and processes.

So today I learned something that maybe only I didn’t know. Arnold Schwartzeneger is only about 5’8” tall. Yep. He wears high shoes and makeup, and is a pretty short guy. Why did I always think he was tall, tall? Now I want to see him in person. At the meeting today, someone had put a snapshot of him naked, covered with only a towel on the wall. I wonder why. He did look short in that picture. I mean his legs and arms didn’t look very long. I don’t want to know about anything else. Like behind the towel.

Free, free. Checked out of the hotel, and on the road to the Sierra Storytelling Festival. I’ve never attended one so don’t know what to expect. I spent several hours browsing around in Nevada City. I didn’t have to be there until the evening, so I just browsed, drank an ice tea and wrote in my journal. Oh, and I bought three red beads, made of Copal. Whatever that is. Looks like it could be petrified blood. They are so smooth and warm to the touch. They will be a lovely addition to a string of prayer beads. Some day.

Oh, my, the storytellers are so amazing. They are so entertaining . This is very fun. Just sitting around listening to people weave tales. Makes me talk different – makes me realize that I often tell stories, just not in as appealing a way. Now I want to take everyone I know to hear storytellers. The only thing is, and this is so embarrassing, it was held at a mountain schoolhouse which had a fragile septic system, so the participants are required to use Ben toilets. I just hate that. A two-holer would almost be better I think! Or maybe not.

OMG – I can’t believe I revealed my squeamishness here about Ben Toilets. That should’ve been a carry to the grave secret. It reveals such an unlikeable side of me. Such a primadonna. Speaking of which, my keyboard is so sticky it misses all sorts of letters. So I’m going to find a friend who has a dishwasher and put my keyboard through the wash. If it ruins it, ni modo. I need a new one anyway, but I like this one, so am going to try it. I wonder if the USB ports will still work. We’ll soon find out!

I went back to work today thinking I would just touch up a project and be done with it. Hah! I discovered that it was far more extensive than I originally imagined. So it seems that I’m back to work – vacation over. Somehow it doesn’t seem right that work in a school district could go on when school is not in session. It’s the behind the scenes stuff that continues at times at a more dramatic pace than during the regular year. I am learning to keep my ears open and my mouth shut. Tomorrow or the next day. Yeah.

I’m learning a little about technology in a school and I have a feeling I’ll soon be learning more. Band width, servers, wireless connections to classrooms, SMART boards, LCD projectors, wireless student response devices, streaming podcasting, C.O.W.s … on and on. I know about a lot of that stuff, but putting it all together in a rational and useful program, that is the challenge. And budgeting for it. I’ll be like a kid in a candy store. Since I won’t be running it, the design must be something user friendly for others. With PCs. Sounds like an oxymoron?! Ya think?

Wednesday – I woke up today so dizzy I could barely navigate from my bed to the bathroom. I was supposed to drive to Sacramento to a grant-writing workshop, but driving was completely out of the question. I bumbled around – slept, ate eggs and toast, drank water, read, didn’t read, nothing helped. By about 1:00 I was no longer dizzy, just a monster of a headache remained. I had a late afternoon chiropractor appointment, and within half an hour of the adjustments she did, the headache was completely gone – as though it had never existed. Think she could live with me?

Okay, so I know my chiropractor won’t live with me. Maybe she could just come over every day to check in with me. Today I worked for 12 hours on the grant. I got it done – as done as possible. I’m worried that we won’t get it, that I didn’t do it well enough. I think it is like anything you submit for publication – once you stop (not finish – there is no finishing, just a deadline) you never want to look at it again. So tomorrow I’ll give it some finishing touches and drive it to the CDE. Ahhhh…

Okay, I was copying the last bit of the grant and stapling it together, when I noticed that about 4 pages have 37 lines of text. I FIXED THAT YESTERDAY!!! Now they really won’t fund it. Narrative ages were only supposed to have 36 lines. When I took it in to the CDE where a girl at a table in the lobby was accepting the entries, I was told that for future reference, the top one, the original shouldn’t be stapled. Who knew that? It didn’t say it anywhere. She was kind enough to accept it anyway. Whatever. I’m done.

Well, today the grantwriter decided to avoid housecleaning all day by shopping, washing the car and going to open houses. It was an okay day, except I didn’t’ find a case I like for the iPod, and I know squat about earphones. The ones I have are uncomfortable, but I don’t know how to improve on them. Do I have to buy disk jockey headphones to get what I’d want? Clueless. Tomorrow should be more than interesting – going to South Lake Tahoe for a Martina McBride concert. With a most adoring MMcB fan. I got hotel rooms, so I’m happy.

Tonight, with my son and granddaughter, I’m going to a Martina McBride concert at South Lake Tahoe. It is kind of a big deal – besides the fact that I hardly go anywhere and this is pretty far – but my first husband is a huge fan of hers – way beyond anything I have ever heard of. He even moved to her home town and became friends with her parents. I know she is a very successful singer, but I don’t quite get the adoration level that is exhibited by all her fans. So I’m going to go and see what’s what.

Wow – the concert was amazing. She is a powerful singer and seems to be a genuine, sincere person. I even sort of get the adoration and the moving to her town. While you are listening to her perform you want to grasp it and hold the power, the emotion, the music. Of course you can’t do that – and it does not translate to TV or movie screen. I wanted to photograph it all, or videotape the songs to keep that high energy, so I could share it. I wanted to keep the music where I could get to it again.

Today I went to work about 20 minutes early, leaving Chico at 6:37 A.M. (37 is my magic minute lately. I don’t know shy) This put me under the new overpasses at about 7:00. At 7:18 it was reported that one of them had collapsed, crushing a Fed Ex truck. My Honda Civic Hybrid probably wouldn’t have fared as well as the truck did. It brought to mind the thought that I’m not done doing whatever I’m supposed to do. I wonder when I’ll figure out what that is. How does one know? Probably by starting, not putting it off.