"Not that it makes any difference." This is what Mom said to me when she called me to tell me Uncle Walt died on Tuesday. What does that mean, "Not that it makes any difference?" I asked, and she replied, "Well, he was ninety years old, and he had a stroke." Is that supposed to make sense? It doesn’t make any difference that he died because he was ninety? No wonder I have so much trouble coping with loss and the grieving process—look at my role models.

Anyway, I wish my mom would stop calling me, because she only phones when someone dies.

Then also, she called to tell me that Pat died this week, and that's just…I don't know. Cancer of the kidneys. Wayne said they sent her down to Wenatchee, scheduled for surgery on Monday, and they didn’t think she’d make it through the operation. I guess she did, but not much longer. I'd really like to ask my mom what she thinks. Did she talk to her before she died? If not, did she wish she’d talked to her before she died? There's so much lost there, and no way to talk about it. I tried to talk to Catherine about it, but it turned into something bigger than I can handle thinking about this week, so I'll have to deal with all the complexities of our family histories some other time.

This has probably been the most frustrating week I've had since I started teaching full time. There is just nothing good about being adjunct faculty. You get no support. I know that part of it is incidental, I'm getting caught in the crossfire in a war between the permanent faculty, but it doesn't make it easier. I feel like I'm getting pounded from both sides—students behaving inappropriately on one hand, faculty behaving inappropriately on the other. And I'm stuck in the middle, just hoping I get to the end of the semester without hitting somebody.

I'm just a little over-extended right now, trying to do too many things. I just have to make it to Monday and it will be okay.

Well…I could type for two hours and not get to all the things keeping me awake at night. I started in sleep deficit Monday morning, and it's just been getting worse. The more tired I am, the less likely I am to be able to sleep. The only place I really feel like I could nod off is—unfortunately—behind the wheel of my car. I guess I need to find someone to drive me around town for a few hours so I can take a nap to the hum of the engine.

Better topics: I started construction management for one of the BRI homes, so at least I'm partly employed. Well, I get about $700 per house for showing up at the building site once every two weeks to make sure the contractor is doing what he's supposed to be doing. Unfortunately, I don’t get the money until the house is finished, so I won't be seeing it for awhile.

The Habitat women's build starts tomorrow. I really wanted to go help frame, but I'm just too tired, so I'm not going over until Sunday. The Habitat/Bloomingfoods straw bale house is scheduled to break ground on June 14th. They're mixing stucco and plaster for that house tomorrow, but I don’t think I'm going to make that, either. I'm scheduled to build twice next week, then again on the 24th and 31st, then move from there to the straw bale house. So, even if I’m more or less unemployed, I'll be doing something useful.