the last week of what we think of as summer

1oo degrees. I am cranky but too busy to let it slow me down... much.

Tonite we will swim in our secret pool under the stars. I hope I'll be tired from working hard and accomplishing many things. I don't maintain one of those whiney, funny academic blogs like the ones linked to the excellent AofEK but that doesn't mean that I don't sweat the week prior to classes springing into hyperactivity.

There are times when I anticipate it with glee and others when I mourn the loss of my time and quietude. I've been spoiled this summer in a different way. Normally when I am on my home turf I am too busy to enjoy it. This summer most of my employment plans fell through so I have had the luxury of gardening, creative projects and a few freelance gigs to keep me busy. I haven't had an extra dime to throw around and had to turn to my dwindling savings a few times but I must confess I loved the pace, the sound of cicadas and watching the colonies of bees and exotic grasshoppers feast on my sunflowers. All are happy in the animal, mineral foodchain here in our little kingdom... it sustains itself pretty well without the hyperkinetic activities of higher education. Have I become disenchanted with university life. Not exactly. Is it my age? Is it this era? This time in the 21st C? Likely a combination of all.

There was a time in 1994 when me and my truck rolled into a cotton field on hwy 61. I was fortunate to survive but not lucky enough to walk away. I suffered an ascatabular fracture of the hip, three rib fractures, a few cracked vertebrae and a bed sore that resulted from six weeks of traction. I had a great deal of time to think after I was taken off the morphine drip. One thing I realized then is that whenever I die I don't want my tombstone to read "She was a Busy Woman." Productive, ok. Creative, Great! Engaged? Fine. Full of busy work and obligations to people who only contact me when they need something? No. I am past that.

Life is different than it was in 1994. There are aspects that I miss and I may experience an occassional regret... but in general this life is saner and more compassionate. The jury is still out on the creative intensity. Part of me is very attracted to chaos.... damn it.

Another thing that has changed since 1994... RIP, Harry from the Camelia Grill, New Orleans, LA.