In case your day isn't a happy one, I thought these might pick you up. It's nice to know that even when talking to God, kids will say it like it is.
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6/15/09
6/9/09
Tick, Tick...
I can't put my finger on it but I am fairly certain time is speeding up when I'm not looking. I wake up at sunrise and go to bed after dark and still there is not enough time to get it all done. And what is it all? I have no bloody idea.
mine
Well, actually I do have an idea. It's all the items waiting to be ticked off my list. Yes. The List. The god forsaken scrap of paper that keeps getting longer even when chores/odd jobs/never-going-to-happen-but-would-like-to-think-they-will type things get scratched off The List. I scratch an item off and add two more chores in it's place. It looms from my desk, peering over my shoulder when I am taking a breather, enjoying a cup of tea, or reading a trashy, non-thought provoking book, just because I want to. That damn list taps its toes impatiently as if to say "you got things to do girl, what's all this non-productivity about?"
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When I was a teenager/young adult still living at home, my mom used to leave the ubiquitous list on the kitchen table, ready for me to pounce on first thing in the morning. I hated the list. I used to huff and grumble about having to clean whatever corner of the house she insisted needed attention that very day, rather than let me sit on my tush and nurse my hangover du jour. The list often brought about a heated debate in our household. An aggravated, hungover adult/child versus a hard-working, annoyed by hungover adult/child, and somewhat perfectionist mother. I didn't often win, until the day I officially flew the coop permanently.
Yep, I was free from the List for one glorious year, until I found myself creating little reminders on scraps of paper. Not only for myself, but also for hubby. Then it spun out of control. I started colour coding the damn thing, trying to make it look pretty so I could post it to my fridge and convince myself it was an artistic expression with daily pointers. Sorry honey, you're not fooling anyone. I had turned into my mother... god help us.
So my friends I've decided to give the finger to the list and create a much lovelier, dreamier, tantalizing list, to piss the task master list right off. The new and improved list looks something like this:
Go here
Do more of this
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and this
and a little of this
enjoy this film again
start each day with this
wear this often
So much to do, so little time to do it.
6/2/09
Coffee Dates...
I have been having a terrible battle with myself over my one perceived habit I simply can't kick: Coffee, the other black gold. I like a strong dark roast, freshly ground, steaming hot, a no frills cup of black deliciousness served in a pretty mug. Ohhhhh baby, a little piece of bliss in the morning. Sometimes at night I get a little twinge of excitement about the goodness that awaits to be prepared in the crisp morning hours. It's nerdy, but so true.
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And yet I'm not sure this love of coffee is always loved by my body. Somedays I find my heart racing, or I get the shakes in an early morning yoga class. I have tried to give it up, lasting weeks on end, but the whirrr of the grinder and the aroma of the beans always draws me back.
Some of my favourite moments have been linked to the bevvie. In fact, during the first year of our marriage, I moved away from my man to go to school while he hung back to work. Every morning at the same time we would have a long-distance coffee date, whispering about our days, our hearts, our dreams. It was our own little way of waking up with each other, creating a sense of togetherness when we were miles apart.
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So the question remains: if you get tremendous joy out of a habit, is it maybe not so bad? Is it possible that these mini moments of bliss are just that and shouldn't be messed with, or is it simply a desire/attachment I need to move beyond?
OK we're not solving the world's problems here but it's something to ponder.
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