as an interpreter of our culture i'm pretty used to knowing how to explain things like farenheit- ninety and above means you're uncomfortable; a hundred and above means it's pressing on you like an iron. zero means a good hard freeze; thirty two is where it can go either way. below zero is when everything freezes; pipes; your spit; the breath on your beard, etc.

enough. ninety three as it is now is not so bad and even if they make it over a hundred on "heat index" it's still only ninety three, which on an absolute scale shouldn't be a problem. but it is. i'm an incredible wimp, and, to make matters worse, i really detest going out and coming back in, which is what i keep doing since i don't want to go out in the first place. i want to take pictures of the garden and the flowers; i want to cut some weeds; i want to finish coffee-staining this shirt, that i had spilled coffee on, that will now be a coffee kind of pink, all over, and hopefully not show its stains so much. but to do this i have to keep going outside; the heat presses me, even though it's only ninety-three. the sun is so bright i can't see in the window of the camera; the pictures are out of focus. how do i deal with this? it's too hot; i can't even think. i go back in.

things are actually better around here; i feel like the boys are all calm, happy, living their lives; the oldest is at a place called jack's fork, rafting. one is learning the guitar; i made him jam with me today, and it was a kind of success. one has a friend over; the last, who is in the way when the two older ones declare him to be that way, is literally under my feet, playing with a ninja-turtle computer game. this is life on a saturday. we'd be at the lake, but they don't want to go out; they've gone out, every day, all week, and want to hang around. i'll grant their wish.

the usa is down 1-0; i can hardly bear watching. it's actually trying to watch, when i'm constantly called away, by ninjas or whatever, that is hard. i can be interrupted in blogging; i can be interrupted in facebook, but if i'm going to watch soccer, i'd rather not be interrupted. just now i was interrupted in the middle of the word "interrupted" and it didn't phase me a bit. but interrupt me when the vuvuzela is blaring, and i'm a little rattled.

i've been mulling over the idea of privacy on the internet, since i showed my class a youtube about the subject. i've actually been a little reckless on the topic, in this very blog (my facebook is remarkably lame)- and in the historical posterity of all information i'm not sure if i should still encourage it to be main street, by making it so exposed. i want friends & family to read it; i haven't cared, in the past, if others read it; but, in the sum total of everything, maybe that last one is not such a good idea. more later; if you've read this far, i'll keep you posted, and not do anything without telling you.

trip to iowa on the horizon; it may happen, it may not, depending more on what happens in california in the coming days. hopefully, my wife will come home, and i will be able to shoot up there, visit a granddaughter & family, deliver a quilt, maybe get out of this steamy sauna for a day or two. if not, that's ok too; i'm going to be ok, i'm sure of it.

let me mention a couple of events around here that i missed, due to being too busy. the first was the bartram play. a group, the sum total, of quaker children humored me by reading their lines and presenting this play at the gaia house, interfaith center, on sunday june 13; they brought colonial philadelphia to life, and presented a play that i wrote which for the record lives here. of course i am proud to see my version of quaker youth education played out on stage; however, it is getting harder and harder to rustle up the energy to do this, and i may cut back or do fewer. i like writing them more than putting them on, although i really believe in putting them on as an educational thing; it's just that my job has me taxed out on drama and educational things, and i have no more energy for directing, on sundays. i did my best. it wasn't bad; it was there, and people learned from it.

the second was a brown-bag concert, carbondale pavilion, by the tracks, downtown, last wednesday june 23, at noon. this was hot (i'm sure they all are, in their way); the sun beats down, yet people still come, sit in the sun (in some cases), and listen to an hour of music. i'm getting better on the fiddle; i'd actually put it down for about a month (while fixing the bow) and still sounded good. no train interrupted us. the weather gave us its best shot, and we played anyway. hottest band in town, i told everyone. half the band couldn't make it, but that was par for the course, more or less; it's been mostly candy and me for the last half-dozen gigs or so. i'd like to record; i'd like to play out more; i'd like to give up my day job, but this is the form that it's happening in, and i'll take it. it was downtown. it was my own hometown. it was a familiar story; it was a familiar drama. it was people i know, and have known, and will know. it was hot, but it wasn't unexpected.