and then it was july

It’s been a very strange and turbulent summer. There’s the weather: afternoon monsoons coupled with morning rains and chilly nights. It doesn’t quite feel like Santa Fe.
And there’s the added workload, some of which is not exactly voluntary but some is and, at any rate, it is what it is.
Right now, the sky is purple and black and lone fireworks are still being set off in the neighborhood. The yard, which the boy has been throwing himself into (he says it’s good therapy after a night in the ER on shift, although he certainly doesn’t use the word therapy) is very green and has an almost secret garden feeling. At least it does if you stand in one particular spot.
The last week has felt very charged. I returned home from the AAN convention filled with various thoughts on all the things one is supposed to be thinking about these days in journalism: twitter and aggregation and whatnot. I’m interested enough in all of it to have been pretty engaged, but en route learned of the car crash that killed four Santa Fe teens and left one of our employees’ daughters in the hospital (slowly, slowly recovering) and was suddenly plunged into the most basic of journalistic tasks: obituary writing, albeit with heart, I hope.
I have this sense of Santa Fe imploding around me. It makes it hard to sleep or stop thinking. Although not in an entirely bad way, since I like to feel engaged whenever possible. Beats being bored, which I am not.
Am almost ready to revamp this blog and give it some real attention. Almost. As soon as I finish thinking.

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