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.
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.
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.
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.