It’s remained blustery and cold here, not as cold as it was – but we are still not feeling the heat in the sun. The place that’s the warmest right now is the hoop house – last night I hung out there with Pete, and I put soil in the small planters, then planted some seeds. A few days with the outdoor weather like that would do me a world of good.

The side of my head has been hurting. Now my forehead and temple is hurting. Fingers crossed that this is just sinus related. Like most, I fear the worst and we aren’t talking bratwursts here (ohhhhhhhhhhh).

Downstairs at the Meetng House

It was a predictable day. Went to the senior center for lunch and for the membership meeting. The soups had meat in them, so I loaded up on salad. There is quite a bit amiss there administratively, and so I, who have a hard time with ineptitude, was as I sat at a table, full of rejoinders. Not good. I listened to the finance report then cut out of there. My car is in the shop, so I walked over to the Meeting House.

Cleaned books with Rebekah, got done what needed to be done and also did the values exchange. We are on the same wavelength.

Then Pete and I met with Tracy who works for the Mat-Su Health Foundation. She really likes our project and is giving us an assist. She had good ideas as far as getting grants, but as far as getting a building goes, she is as stymied as we are. She, like us, feels as though we need to focus more on the literacy-related aspects of our project, so as to get grants.

This is well and good. I will set up interviews and talk with people, at first in Fairbanks, next week. If I had space, I’d be moving books around less, and I’d have more time to embark on the second phase of this project. I won’t think about the obstacles in my path, I will simply move mountains.

The high point of my day was this – Pete and I went back to the Meeting House after meeting with Tracy. The Palmer Arts Council had planned to meet in the Meeting House, and some of the members were standing there, wondering what to do since the door lock wasn’t cooperating. I says to them, “wait a minute.” I punched in the numbers, and nothing happened. I waited. Then I did this this again. Nothing happened. Then I did this again – and this time, the bolt moved back, and I opened the door.

I was deservedly smug because I had done something that the Palmer Arts Council members could not do. They had no choice but to be thankful – and they were. I shudder to think, if they’d gone downstairs, they would not have been able to meet at the long table because it has books four deep on it.

Seldom in life does this kind of thing happen. I am going to bolster my sagging spirits by keep reminding myself of what was for me, a momentous occasion.

Next: 129. 5/11/23 Finally