mixed bag

Turns out my principal is actually very happy with the way the library changes are going - nice to know.

Stopped at light tonight ('cause it was, you know, like red and there were cars coming) - guy behind me "thought" I was going to go - so he went. Waiting for adjuster to call tomorrow - low speed but he hit the bumper and I need to be sure it didn't compress.

The moron was telling the trooper "Well, I though they wer going" - the trooper whipped around and said "You hit them, right?" End of conversation.

Wound up being late to hair appointment, late to store so many things I wanted were out, my poison ivy really itches, I'm bummed.

*sigh*

And now

One of the few colleagues and friends at school is being recruited by another school - and I can't see how she can refuse their offer or the zero commute.

I'm hearing around that the principal, when I'm not there, is frustrated with my room - not moving fast enough for her, not getting rid of enough "useless" stuff. They've moved the "new" (they're old & crappy) computers in - and one of my tables disappeared (principal decided I didn't need it). So now I don't have enough seating for a class unless they're at computer tables - which don't have enough room for them to do anything but work directly on a keyboard: no notes, no books, no binders. My library has become a computer lab. It doesn't matter if I'm comfortable in it; it has to fit someone else's vision and comfort level.

The landscape of my so-called professional life grows bleak.

Anyone know of a nice community college here in the Land of Surprises looking for a librarian, not a technician?

Not priceless

So it turns out you're not supposed to tip yard crap out of your wheelbarrow by dumping it forward. Hmm, you say. How have you acquired this bit of widsom? By dumping the wheelbarrow incorrectly and not letting go when it went over forward, thereby landing in a heap on top of the wheelbarrow and wrenching my good knee (not feeling so good now but not as bad as bad knee was when I wrenched it).

I now realize you're supposed to tip the thing sideways so the stuff falls out and you and the barrow do not fall over.

Better idea: get husband to dump it! Turns out Dr. A quite likes dumping stuff out, so this works well. Now that's priceless!

Have I hit bottom yet?

Redoing my room in the image my administrator has for it. It's one of those projects where you have to hit rock bottom before you can start building and see any improvement. I think I may have hit that point - physically and emotionally. And I don't know if I'm going to see the "improvements" in the same light - ever. My room is starting to feel like a lab, not a library. A library can include the components of a lab; it is not, however, a lab. Some things will be really nice in terms of research instruction, particularly when computers are being used. Research, however, is an intellectual process, not a compendium of tools. If I lose that concept, there will be no point in continuing this effort - for me. I'd like to think of myself as partly a technologist, but I'm not, primarily, a technician.

I'm phenomenally lucky to have the best educational network administrator (henceforth known as GeekyGuy - because Stellar, Hip Geeky Guy is too long). Yesterday, when I was really ready to start thinking about a different service profession ("Would you like fries with that?"), he came up with several wonderful suggestions for my room and the stuff in it that will be technologically superior, enhance instruction, and keep the library..you know, a library. I wish more of my colleagues were even close to understanding education the way he does.

Note to anyone inclined to care: it is not a good idea to have the custodians, no matter how wonderful they are, sort library and personal materials, throw things they deem not valuable away, and rearrange the rest for me. Had I wanted this service, I'd have requested it. I didn't. Scrambling around in fury to undo the damage asap is also a lousy idea: you could bend down too fast and wrench your knee - the "good" knee. Harumph.

No miracle

Five days after my friend learned there were no more treatment options for her ovarian cancer and was moved to palliative care in a hospice unit, she passed away. Her husband and children were with her; it was peaceful.

We're all still stunned at this turn of events: if ever there were someone who would survive, despite long odds, she would have been the one.

Her wake was intensely, almost unbearably, sad.

I miss her already.