Looking back through the Huck Finn post I see how much I should have edited. Apologies for that. I'm a bad one for just hitting SEND when I'm in a hurry. From here on out – until semester's end – be prepared for some even less stellar posts than usual. So much for my blog stats.
Facebook. I must be among the last people on earth to finally join, though I hardly use it. I've never searched for people I know. That's how antiquated I am. Some magazine publisher or other invited me to join. I have no idea who they are, but I thought what the hell. What could it hurt? A few people I know from grad school belong, and we've connected. Today someone from my high school graduating class found me, so now I'm connected with a few people from that era of my life. That LONG AGO era. Then there's someone I used to work with. Add her onto the list. If you're there and want to be my friend just send me an invite. I could use all the friends I can get. I'm there under my own name, which I guess is stating the obvious.
What an amazingly shrinking world. Soon we'll be able to add on people who've died, when God or the Universe or whatever gets an invite. I can imagine what my lost friends and relatives would say they've been up to, "sitting around on a cloud, strumming a harp." Either that or "dodging the lava flow, trying to stay cool."
Between work and work (a split shift – 9:00 – 2:00, then 6:00 – 9:00) yesterday, I read about 25 pages' worth of the history of collection development in the library, from the 1920s forward. In case you're having insomnia issues, let me recommend this as the ultimate soporific. I fell asleep, waking at ten minutes to 6:00. I jumped up, grabbed shoes and coat, and by the time I got to work still had the lines of the pillow on my face from my nap, hoping to God no one noticed. I've had it up to HERE with split shifts. I'm re-organizing my schedule to avoid them. Better to work a few hours on Saturdays than a split shift.
At work last evening I hosted a travel program about Arizona, the hottest, most dismal state I've ever visited. Apologies if you hail from there, but what put a bad taste in my mouth was the trip we took there in the height of summer, three years ago or so. On that vacation my dear daughter was in RARE form. I'd like to blame it on heat stroke, but I think it's something far more dire … TEENAGER SYNDROME
All of us, save my husband – who doesn't seem to notice weather – nearly melted in Arizona. My middle child inherited that gene. We absolutely hate heat – dry or not. If anyone so much as bumps into me when it's hot I turn from human to snarling animal. When it's warmer than 80 F YOU DON'T TOUCH ME. Preferably, you don't even look in my direction. I'm likely to use my laser vision to turn you into a pile of ashes. You're welcome for the warning.
And now I've caught you up to today, what I'd term a "normal" day in my anything but life. I'll save today's disasters – my only certainty in life - for my next post.