FOR A DANCER 
Keep a fire burning in your eye
Pay attention to the open sky
You never know what will be coming down
I don't remember losing track of you
You were always dancing in and out of view
I must've always thought you'd be around
Always keeping things real by playing the clown
Now you're nowhere to be found 

I don't know what happens when people die
Can't seem to grasp it as hard as I try
It's like a song playing right in my ear
That I can't singI can't help listening 
I can't help feeling stupid standing 'round
Crying as they ease you down
'Cause I know that you'd rather we were dancing
Dancing our sorrow away(Right on dancing)
No matter what fate chooses to play
(There's nothing you can do about it anyway) 
Just do the steps that you've been shown
By everyone you've ever known
Until the dance becomes your very own
No matter how close to yours another's steps have grown
In the end there is one dance you'll do alone

 Keep a fire for the human race
And let your prayers go drifting into space
You never know will be coming down
Perhaps a better world is drawing near
And just as easily, it could all disappear
Along with whatever meaning you might have found
Don't let the uncertainty turn you around
(The world keeps turning around and around)
Go on and make a joyful sound

 Into a dancer you have grown
From a seed somebody else has thrown
Go on ahead and throw some seeds of your own
And somewhere between the time you arrive and the time you go
May lie a reason you were alive but you'll never know 

(c) 1974 SWALLOW TURN MUSIC

Well no one can accuse Jackson Browne of being too perky, now can they.  I took out the Late for the Sky CD yesterday to listen to something different on the way home from work.  I was doing fine until the song After the Deluge came on.  I always loved that song and it never made me cry before, but something about it really got to me.  Maybe it's because I feel life on the planet is so tenuous in general these days.  I've felt that way since I was 8 years old, so maybe I'm just getting more and more cautious about the future, or maybe I'm just resigned to thinking that there may just not BE a future after all.  I don't know.  Anway, certainly Jackson Browne has nice music, but certainly it is sad, tragic, depressing--especially that stuff from the '70's, when his wife committed suicide.  So today on the way to work I listened to early Springsteen, a big improvement mood-wise.

We're having a heat wave, not a tropical heat wave, just an Adirondack version of one.  Temps in the 80's and humid.  Jenica is here and went swimming yesterday.  Reported that it felt great and she can't believe I haven't been in yet.  She's right, it would have made sense for me to have been in by now but I haven't been motivated, I haven't spent that much time at camp, and the weekends haven't been that nice.  I stayed at camp on Weds. night--it was warm, it was my last chance to be in the boat house for a while, and it just seemed like a nice thing to be able to do.  It was nice, very peaceful.

Busy week for my social life.  Book group met Weds. night but I had forgotten that and set something up with Ken so had to skip it.  The book wasn't that good and it turned out that no one really liked it, although according to Lin they had a good discussion (we always do).  I had a nice evening with Ken but it was hot at his house, even sitting on his porch.  Last night I did pretty much nothing.  Stopped by camp for a minute to see Jenica before she and Drew left for Burlington to pick up Tamara.  I was watching tv when Sarahanne and John came to my house, desperate in their search for camp.  I was impressed that they knew to find my house.  It was good to see them.  I sent them on their way (I hope).  The dogs were so thrilled to see them, I always think it's funny to watch their reaction to the arrival of people, especially in the dark of night.  First suspicion, but then always joy and great excitement.

Too much excitement, though, when I finally went to bed at 2 it turned out that Chances had peed a huge puddle in the middle of the bed.  Man was I mad.  I smacked her, which I never, ever do.  She hid under the table in shame (not pain, I would never hit a dog hard enough to hurt her).  I had to change the bed, soak the futon with the odor/stain remover, cover it all with towels then try to get to sleep smelling the alcohol of that.  She even peed on the pillow but did manage to miss the comforter this time, luckily.  Honestly, I don't know what it is with this dog.  This morning Jackson pushed the door to the bedroom open so Chances got into the kitchen, got the new jar of peanut butter off the counter and managed to eat HALF of it before I got up to take it away from her.  Burp.  At least her coat should be shiny and her cholesterol low.

I had my performance characteristics done by the director (with whom I'm in the middle of a grievance right now, dragging on since November).  She did a good job of saying nice and positive things about me.  She searched for negative things, could only come up with "you could make better use of a calendar"--a huge flaw in herself, and "sometimes when you work on a project you do it too quickly and don't think it through all the way," not true of me really but definitely true of her.  I disputed neither of these, figuring I was getting of lightly, as she could accuse me of all the things she has in the past (the things I've filed my grievance about).  This document goes in my personnel file and will be good fodder for the grievance, since she says such good things about me that contradict the memo she wrote that I'm grieving.  Let's hope she retires in February, as she's told countless people outside our building that she's planning to.

And now I have 1.5 hours until the weekend.  Must stop to get food for Liza and Mark's dinner Sunday night, plus something for them to eat on Monday, then home quickly before going to dinner with the people I had dinner with earlier in the week.  Tomorrow morning I hope to mow the lawn.  No, really.