I have done nothing for two days, not even cook food to eat. I have eaten a bag of Cheetos, a leftover potato, three cookies and some crackers. I had a pot of coffee yesterday and today plus glasses of soda now and then. Oh I did one thing. I took a bath. The TV has been on and I saw three movies which were not memorable.

So what is up? I guess I am exhausted. Workdays last week were all-consuming. I love my job and this lazy spell is recuperative to prepare for next week - this period before school starts is way too busy. Monday is creeping up already - here I am yawning and thinking of going to sleep by 9 tonight.

All of us in academia are hauling out the pencil cases for the new year. Getting the year ready on my level is exhausting. Everything has to be laid out two years ahead. Every teacher has to be listened to - and they are all prima donna's. Some awesome, some dorks. But they all get HR attention and academic backup from me (and others), regardless of the size or quality of their needs. I love my job and most of the time, the faculty is wonderful and they work incredibly hard. They all love kids in varying intensity, and although I am not much of a kid-person, I love the optimistic air of schools.

All the labororious prep that is expended is worth it when the kids show up with fresh uniforms and the campus gets rocking. I know that in a month the uniforms will be funky from minimally showered boys, the teachers will wilt and everyone will be questioning their career choice...yeah, it's up and down. Anyway, schools are great and I am buzzed with the season. The exhuberance of it keeps me seeing a positive future in all those kids, even the ones who take wrong turns. Most of them make it, and most of us love being able to see the world from the perspective of the kids. Yay! School is back!

Donald Rumsfeld briefed the president this morning. He told Bush that Brazilian soldiers were killed in Iraq. To everyone's amazement, all the color drained from Bush's face, he then collaspsed onto his desk, head in hands, visibly shaken, almost in tears. Finally, he composed himself and asked Rumsfeld, 'Just exactly how many is a brazilian?'