Summer is almost over. Perhaps it is over. It doesn’t feel over in my new home town. But the kids are back in school.

I miss school. I miss it very much. I miss having a teacher tell me “Good job!” when I turn in my homework. I miss the motivation that comes from know that someone notices how I am doing.

But I’m a grown up now. I dragged out the whole school thing almost as long as I possibly could. It’s time now for me to kick my own butt.

I have done a huge project, getting my book published. But I am realizing, that is only half the work. Just because I wrote it does not mean people will read it. I need to get it into their hands.

Which takes a whole new set of skills and experiences that I simply do not have.

I am going to have to learn them. It’s harder than I realized.

And the fact of the matter is, no one is going to really care if I don’t succeed. That means it’s very easy for me to not do it. I could procrastinate and take forever and ever and never quite do it.

I want to do it. But this is harder than I thought. It’s taking some real effort.

and a lot of it is just mental work. It’s scary. And it doesn’t seem like it should be.

But I really feel liek I’m swimming with sharks. Even if they are only in my mind….

..or just finished reading…

*Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami
*Pay it Forward
*The Language of Archetypes
*Until I find You
*Liza of Lambeth
*Anne Frank
*Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I wish I could slow down a little and savor some more. It seems difficult to do, as if I am very behind on my reading and the books are all so interesting.

Perhaps I will re-read when I am old.

But the most fascinating thing for me was—and is, still—that there were words, lined up to say one thing and another, but one’s response was not exactly to the words, and what they appeared to be saying, but to something enormous and living beyond that, which the words exactly entailed.

-Deborah Eisenberg

I have thought this for a long time. I’ve thought that words are the stones that mark out the outlines of greater thoughts and ideas—even another world. They are so very little in themselves, these poor words. But they have such power at times, when wielded.

Books, poems, they have a use. They are particular and different than other ways of conveying ideas. Music has it’s own, movies have their own, conversation, theater, photographs—they have their own particular strength and logic. Each has a cause and effect.

But words as so dear to my heart. Words on a page or spoken out loud move me like nothing else.

Even talking to myself, I am in awe so very often of what words can give me.

I think of Archimedes “Give me a place to stand and I will move the earth.”

He was speaking of the mechanical tool, the lever. Words to me are the lever of the soul. Give me a way to string the words and who can’t I move?

At least that is the possibility.

Previously, I wrote about a writing group that I am starting.

It’s the 3rd Tuesday of the month, and the first meeting was in July. But no one came.

I was sad, but I decided it was up to me to do a better job of advertising. I researched it, put up a few more flyers and also called the local paper to have them put it on their calendar of events. I put it on Inland Empire Craig’s list, and I even guilted my neighbor into coming.

My very nice neighbor Sue said she would come. She said she’d never written before, but apparently she felt sorry for me and agreed to come. I felt slightly guilty about guilting an uninterested person into coming, but I really didn’t want to have another no show class.

August meeing came. And so did three other people. And if you count neighbor Sue, four! It was fabulous. And as it turned out, Sue’s interest wasn’t purely pity after all. She has some great projects in mind. And so did Julie, and Marie and Ella.

What a great time!

I am proud, and very pleased that I persevered in spite of initial disinterest.

Now I too am inspired by the class, and I am getting my promotional kit together. Miriam needs to get out into the world and meet people!

Miriam can be found here

yes, you got that right! I am on Amazon.com

I am pretty happy about that.

There’s a mind puzzle that goes like that. The goose, the fox and the grain have to get across the river. But your boat will only carry one at a time. And if you leave the goose with the fox, the fox will eat the goose. If you leave the goose with the grain, the goose will eat the grain. So how do you get them all across the river?

I want to exercise in the morning. I also want to beat traffic in the morning. I want to write in the morning. I like to ride the bus to work when I can.

So…I have been exercising to a tape in the morning. But I’ve been doing the same exercise tape for almost two years, and I think I’m getting a repetitive stress problem in my side. So, I need to change that.

Also, if I go to work earlier in the morning, I will spend approximately 1/3 to 1/2 less time on the road. Maybe I should join a gym near my job, leave way early in the morning and exercise on the other side of the commute.

However, that would mean giving up the time (not that often, but sometimes I do) I would have to write if I rode the bus to work.

Hmm…Come to think of it, I have not been that successful at writing on this particular bus. I just end up getting distracted. I used to be very good at writing and riding…But I haven’t been very productive with original work lately, on the bus or otherwise.

Anyway. THe bus has the advantage of being less wear on my car, and morally superior to burning up my own personal gasoline.

But it means that I spend more time on the road than I would if I drove in early to work out at the gym.

Also, if I drove in early, I would actually work out longer and potentially be a hardbody. I can dream.

So, okay, if I drove in at 5:30 am I would get a good workout in and spend less time in traffic (and therefore less gasoline), it would take care of my desire to exercise.

But I would have to develop another habit to set aside time to write everyday.

It’s always a balance….

i was all proud of my assimilation to the heat. I have gotten to where I can tolerate it so much better.

When I first moved to California, I was rendered immobile by 80 degrees. It was like superman and kryptonite…I fell to the floor in a jelly and couldn’t move.

But I can move in it now! I can accomplish housework and perform feats of concentration, such as reading or paying bills.

That is, until last weekend. I went to Sacramento, and it was as if the kryptonite had been distilled.

It’s a heat wave.

Chris said to me last night “If it wasn’t hard, you wouldn’t want to do it. You’d just complain that you were bored.”

Boyfriends can be so annoying when they are right.

The fact is, I had a disappointment yesterday. I have been working to set up a writing group, a class that I would lead and charge money for. Not a lot of money, but I wanted to get a group of people that were more dedicated. My thought is, if people have to pay for something they will value it more.

So I wanted to get a group of people dedicated to writing. I also believe that I would be a good leader and teacher of such a group.

I made reserved a community room and put up flyers. I prepared handouts and guidelines for the students. I had a lesson plan and extra pens.

I got to the facility early and waited. I had no idea how many people would come!

No one came.

I choose to believe that I need to learn how to advertise the group better. In fact, I have a lot to learn about promotion and advertising. My book needs a lot of that too.

I don’t know much about it. I will have to learn.

I haven’t been in my house for a full year. And the house is old and quaint. I have decided to distract myself for the extreme heat by doing some house projects.

I am refinishing a door.

Basically, there was some peeling on the paint in a very obvious place. It looked kinda shabby, and the only way to repair it is to strip all the paint off and repaint it.

The door are very pretty, with the sort of detailing that doesn’t happen anymore. Nothing too ornate, just three indented panes with a little detail around the edge of each pane.

I thought about how many layers of paint had been put on that door over the last 56 years, and I thought the details would really pop out if I were to reduce it to a mere 2 layers.

Stripping paint is not a job for the faint hearted. Or the easily distracted. Fortunately, I am neither. But it is still a LOT of Paint to get off.

Of course the first thing was to unscrew it off it’s hinges, so I can lay it flat. I had to use a little stripper just to find the screw under all the paint, but I accomplished it.

Then, I had to take the doorknob off. The doorknob looked worse for the wear.

We will need a new knob. Which is an interesting thought. What sort of knob do I want?

Then I notice…almost every doorknob in my home is unique. How did such a variety of knobs get into this house? I think there are 15 knobs in my little house, with about 10 unique models.

They have different shapes, a lot of different finishes. How did that happen? was there some kind of freak reason to replace the doorknobs everywhere?

Doorknobs are not as cheap as I would like them to be. About 25 bucks. Not much for just one, but it’s a little pricier to buy 15. I will, however, be buying 15. I am pleased with the thought of uniformity in my doorknobs.