 I drink tea. This is my teaspoon rest, but after a couple of days not being rinsed off--this guy appeared! I couldn't ignore the fact that my teaspoon stains looked like a cartoon character, perhaps Groucho Marx. It just goes to show that sometimes art just happens, characters just insist on being created--out of tea, words . . . whatever! So, keep a lookout for any unintentional art that may be sitting in plain sight around you:) The "to do" list. That list is absolutely necessary for me to function, to remember, to prioritize, to be productive. But-- It is in so many ways an enemy to my "artist" inside. Yes, I'm sure that is my fault. I should be making time for my art. I've read the books, heard the calls to artist arms, and agreed completely. And yet. Here I am--with a blog explaining, complaining, --  I must break away from this barely started blog entry for a "case in point" moment. Not only does my "to do" list keep me from writing for pleasure because "more important 'dos' shove their way in front of others," but also the impromptu "to dos" pop up on a near-constant basis. I typed the words above, "Here I am--with a blog explaining, complaining," when it hit me mid-sentence that I had just put an egg in the pot to soft boil--which is a five minute venture--sat down to write and completely forgot about the egg. Oops! No sooner had I settled down to start my blog entry then I was up and out of my seat (one minute behind, but with yolk still pleasantly runny:). Well, it was breakfast now--not time to write after all. I don't always do breakfast, but today is a day when I was finally able to add "write" to my morning schedule and so breakfast seemed like a wonderful indulgence too.  But, that was not all. I was just finishing my breakfast when a friend came by to drop off books that we had lent her kids. My kids had been asking about them but, well--you see--the "short on time" situation has been a problem for me. My friend is in the same, creaky, late boat as I am But, she amazingly squeezed the errand in. I grab the books, hand her something and she's off to work. Now I will write.  Not yet. Enter: The Cat! I love the book Olivia by Ian Falconer. Not only is it adorable, but I always loved it when part of Olivia's day required that she "move the cat" a few times. It's true. Any cat owners or dog owners know that just when you are about to stop rushing around and put pen to paper, brush to canvas, or perhaps do something quiet and contemplative--the cat shows up and wants something from you, but it's not always clear what it is they want. So you reason with them for a bit: go out? hungry? a quick pat or scratch behind the ear? What!!?? And so, here I am about to get back to the blog I promised I'd write only to be negotiating with a feline who clearly has all the time in the world . . .  Front door? Back? -- then she sits. I stand. Door open. Waiting for a cat to determine my schedule. Finally, I take a few photos because all this truly is comedy gold in my head. Of course instead of writing, I am negotiating with a cat. So far a delicious egg, a good friend doing me a favor and an indecisive cat have elbowed their way into my "to do" list and that's the way it goes. It's those unwritten "to dos" that really do me in. So, what is a writer "to do"? Write about it. And take some photos. I know that when I started I was going to launch into the "to do" list and all its merits and evils and now--who knows what I was going to say. As you can see there is often no planning even to my day and the course it takes, let alone my writing. I consider it a win if I am able to write anything. Fortunately I have kept up with this blog at least on a monthly level, which is much more than I can say about my newsletters. Those fell tragically off a cliff somewhere in the twilight between winter and early spring. But--in keeping with the saying "perfect is the enemy of the good" I will slap together a newsletter and hope to draw you to this blog where you will see what I have been up to or thinking about even when it wasn't delivered to your inbox. Yes, in that photo above you see little seedlings. That, truth be told, is the other love that keeps me away: Gardening! It is my passion in the spring-time and so when I am able to steal an hour or so I have been transforming my garden out front (actually, more than transforming, I have created a brand new one which is a large undertaking). I will post about that in the coming weeks or months, but for now you can imagine those seedlings are just the tiny tip of an iceberg.   Have you ever given inanimate objects more credit for your future than they deserve? I have. Earlier this month, I found myself getting to the end of my current writing journal. You may have seen the cover of it in a past blog or newsletter. It says "Organized Chaos" on the front. I have to admit it wasn't my first choice for cover designs, but like with clothes--often I go for comfort over style--the choices of journals with coptic binding were few and so I snatched it up. The important part is the inside (wow--what an unintentional, but heartwarming truth:) with its empty lined pages. As Organized Chaos came to a close and school was starting, I pulled my next journal out from under a pile of clothes. (How I knew it was there, I have no idea. And why it had remained there--also, no idea.) The next journal said, "Sunny Skies Ahead" on its cover. The colors were muted and everything looked calm about it. It was quite the follow-up to multi-colored, metallic organized chaos. That's when I started to believe, to genuinely hope, that the journal was making promises we all know it couldn't keep. Once I opened that blank journal I would be leaving chaos behind and sunny skies would open up and usher in the calm that everybody's been longing for after several years of not-quite-calm-at-all.  I suppose that's how desperate I am (we all are) as I grasp for a sign of hope somewhere--anywhere!
Being a New Englander I feel I have a leg up on unpredictability in life. I grew up used to wonky, random weather. It's cold, then hot, followed by a freak blizzard. Covid is the New England weather equivalent of viruses--only, instead of heading out to stock up on milk and bread and hunker down, toilet paper and tylenol top the list and that's only what you'll need if you're lucky. Even if you don't catch Covid, a close contact or a near miss requiring a test or quarantine upends everything. Events, reunions, final exams, business trips, weddings and celebrations planned months before are suddenly not happening. Off the table completely. At least with weather there's the chance of bringing things indoors or holding it on a rain date. But, not with pesky, petulant, wild-card Covid. It's pencils down. Wait and see. Wait some more. Eventually cancel completely or postpone indefinitely. But, back to my journal. This inanimate Nostradamus. It is proclaiming that there are "Sunny Skies Ahead." That's a direct quote! I know it's foolish, but I have to believe it. I'm hitching my wagon to it. Giddyup! Heeyah! Sunny skies--here we come:)  This morning I told my son to put on a pair of socks--it's too cold not to--to which he replied he couldn't find any socks. For an article of clothing so small, it sure does cause a lot of trouble around here. Much time is devoted to picking up, matching, looking for, and putting on socks. So, in an effort to find humor (and socks)--somewhere, anywhere--one of my dauthers helped put together a poster for our precious, missing socks!:) |
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