Monday Moment - Thinking About Lazy Days

This was a beautiful morning – the kind that summer dreams are made of – so I opted to take my kayak out for the first paddle of the season. What an excellent choice that was! Warm sun, cool water, birds chirping – especially where homeowners have put up purple marten houses – the lake nearly to myself. And almost two hours of ‘think time.’

I once heard Earl Nightingale (quoting someone else whose name I’ve forgotten) say something to the effect that a thought was the hardest thing in the world to complete. I’ve been trying to prove that guy wrong ever since. This morning wasn’t the time to achieve that goal.

I’m often amazed at my mind’s myriad and seemingly random meanderings. I’ll find myself thinking about some odd memory (or half-thought idea) and wonder how on earth I got to that particular slice of the old gray matter. Then nothing will do but to trace – or attempt to – the free association that got me there. It can be a pretty entertaining thing, my head.

Today’s thoughts were of summer – all its joys and opportunities.

The summer of 2008 looms ahead of me – with more uncommitted time than I’ve had in years. This unscheduled time shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but somehow it has. What’s more surprising is that I don’t have well-defined goals about how to fill that time. And I can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

I certainly would like to invest my time wisely this summer – to have something in September that I can look back on with pride – a job done, tasks checked off the to do list, or perhaps an experience that can be checked off my life-list – with photographic evidence of course.

However, I’ve also played with the notion that I might experiment with just taking the summer off. Waking up without a plan for what needs to be accomplished that day. Just being – and doing whatever suits me on any given day. Sounds like ultimate luxury - like summers were back when I was a kid – or at least the hazy way I remember summers then.

Truth is, even then there were schedules – swim lessons, Bible School, camp, the 4-H Fair, canning tomatoes and freezing corn where my help was expected and required. And truth is, those scheduled events are among my most vivid and most treasured memories of summer.

The desire to be productive is part of being human, I think – part of the richness of being alive. So I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with an entire summer of lazy days. Just what my summer to do list will be – well, that’s still an incomplete thought. I think I’ll need a few more long paddles – and maybe just a few more lazy days – to figure that out.

Wishing you whatever you want most for your summer!

Sally

Monday Moment - Do What You Love!

I’ve long been a fan of The Wizard of Oz so when Wicked came to Rochester a few weeks ago, I made it my business to secure tickets. The Rochester Broadway Theatre League brings four or five big musical productions to town every year – and I used to go fairly often – but I hadn’t been in years.

But Wicked, I thought, was not to be missed. I wanted to steep myself in the show before it arrived so I picked up Gregory Maguire’s book and gave myself a whole month to read it. Normally, whenever I read a book before seeing a movie or play based on that book, I like the book a whole lot more. At least twice lately, that pattern has been broken. Love in the Time of Cholera was a beautiful film – and a book that was a lot of work. And Wicked was a delightful romp on stage and honestly, an agony to read.

Well, agony is perhaps too strong a word. Or maybe not. I kept thinking that being wicked ought to be more fun! But Elphaba, our Wicked Witch of the West, didn’t seem to enjoy her “beautiful wickedness” as much as I thought she ought to. I certainly gained sympathy for her, but I just couldn’t work up the delicious scare I’ve always gotten from Margaret Hamilton’s Wicked Witch of the West. Being wicked seemed a lot more exhausting than fun! Of course that could be because the book goes on for decades and decades of Elphaba’s life. Maybe it was me who was exhausted.

But on stage, Elphaba was sympathetic, engaging, and fun! And Glinda, flighty and fairly annoying in the book, maintained that flightiness in the funniest and most engaging way imaginable! It was entirely understandable that she should acquire the level of popularity to which she aspired. She injected exponential fun in every situation.

Light and dark (or in this case, green) served the other as Elphaba the green and Glinda the goofy developed a heartfelt friendship that was touching to see. Their signature song - “I don’t know if I’ve been changed for the better, but because I knew you, I’ve been changed for good” – demonstrated that without the wicked, the good wouldn’t have been as goodm, and nor was the wicked, perhaps, as wicked as it seemed.

Ahh. Food for thought. And high level entertainment that I am absolutely glad I didn’t miss.

And there’s the lesson for me – beyond the lessons of friendship and courage of Wicked’s plot. If I enjoy musical theatre as much as I clearly do – then why in the heck has it been so long since I’ve taken advantage of the opportunity? It’s not as if I have to travel to Broadway or Toronto to see a great show. I can get to the theater, park, and be in my seat in less than an hour. Yes, tickets are pricey. And worth skimping on some other minor luxuries.

I’m reminded of one of Sid Simon’s values strategies that asks you to name 20 Things You Love to Do – and then asks just when you had last done each of them. Well, I can guarantee you that my absence from that Auditorium Theater will not be nearly as prolonged in future years. In fact, I’ve set a goal – and you know how I am about my goals – that I will attend no fewer than one touring Broadway show each year for the rest of my life!

Next year’s season has already been announced. After Wicked I have to see The Wizard of Oz, now don’t I? And maybe The Drowsy Chaperone and Jersey Boys, and…

Wishing you opportunities to do something from your 20 Things I Love to Do list this very week!

Sally

Monday Moment - Cleaning House

Last week I hosted my book group for the first time since I became a member. Well, you know what that means, right? I felt compelled to work like a dog to clean my house within an inch of its life!

Generally I’ve always believed that my friends should and will take me – and my house – as I am. And generally, that’s been how it has been. People who like me understand that I’m a “stuff-person” and that I tend to place more focus on creativity than either neatness or cleanliness. I don’t see that as a bad thing – never have. I like my creativity – and I like that my house acts as a palette for said creativity.

And yet. I do recognize that I – and my stuff – can go over the top on occasion. I’m sure it’s a genetic thing. I can blame my pack-rat tendencies as squarely on my mother as I can my hips and thighs. I undoubtedly also got a dose of house-pride from Mom too. After all, I remember helping to clean our home place within an inch of its life when it was her turn to host her Club – theoretically formed so they could sew together until they found a lot more fun in playing cards.

House-pride is something I’ve seen in all our previous book group gatherings as well. Over half our group are either new to our community or have moved back after some time away – and live in immaculate new homes. You know the kind – where the original paint has yet to chip from corners or become scuffed from the daily traffic of living. Only one has children still living at home, and although a few have animals, they seem to be of the extraordinarily well-behaved variety with whom I can only claim only passing acquaintance. These are homes that sparkle and shine – and intimidate lesser house-keepers like me.

Hence my compulsion to show off my home in its best light – which required a sort of archaeological scraping through various strata of my life. There was stuff to dump, stuff to give away, stuff to put away, stuff to clean and lovingly display. Oy! And anytime I paused, thinking that maybe I was nearly done, there was something else that needed attention. Baseboards, cupboard knobs, picture frames, lampshades, it seemed like it would never end.

I kept thinking that next time they come it will be easier. For one thing, the house will be one more year cleaner. But for another, next time they’ll be content to sit in the living room without wanting a tour of the whole darn house!

The rooms we spend the most time in (all right – except for my office which is sadly a bit of a catch-all) stay reasonably clean and neat. It’s those other rooms – my office, sewing area, guest room (another catch-all until someone comes to stay) and all the nooks and crannies that don’t get a lot of regular attention.

And that – perhaps – has emerged as my goal. Perhaps, if I straighten, neaten, purge, and clean one room every week (oh cripes, for the rest of my life!) then the task of getting the whole house clean at one time won’t be so gut-busting. Oh that would be such a good goal. But I know myself – and it’s not likely to happen every week. Not when there are kayaks to paddle, gardens to work in, books to read, and any of the other myriad of more enjoyable things to do.

So then, let’s amend the goal. One of those lesser used rooms every month. Just an hour at a time. Seems doable. I’ll let you know – next year when it’s my turn to host book group again!

Oh by the way, there were oohs, ahhs, and wow’s when they came last week. So the effort was well justified, my house-pride emerged intact, and – at least momentarily – we live in a clean and still creative house.

May you accomplish some goal that makes you proud in the coming week!

Monday Moment - Lessons from My Bathroom Floor

Three dogs - aging and occasionally incontinent - had turned the bathroom carpet ugly, but there was no point replacing it until all three had lived out their lives. So it was with mixed emotions that I approached a new bathroom floor.

On the one hand, I missed my canine companions, their funny ways, and unconditional devotion. The last one left us after nearly sixteen years of joyful wagging at the mere sound of my voice. That was only weeks ago and coming home hasn’t been the same since. So yes, I missed my doggers.

On the other hand, I couldn’t wait to get that gross carpet out of my house and my life forever! And since I purchased gorgeous stone tile over two years ago, I was thrilled, excited, and nearly drooling with anticipation to get that tile down on the bathroom floor!

My plan – painstakingly drawn and then enhanced with tiny scraps of post-it notes – wasn’t straight-forward. Why bother with simple when you can have creative? Since I wanted what I wanted, I was willing – even eager – to do it all myself.

Okay. So my previous experience with tile had been that mosaic trivet I made back in fourth grade. What’s that got to do with it? I’m handy – sort of. I wanted to learn. I don’t mind hard work. I could do this.

Was I crazy, I was asked. Did I want to take a chance of reducing the value of my house? What made me think I could do this? On my own? Did I remember other projects I’d done – the ones that were cobbled together and had required re-doing by someone with more skills and the right tools? Did I remember that all my previous projects fit that cobbled together description? (Not precisely accurate, I’d argue, but clearly my inquisitor was not willing to concede competence on any front.) Was I crazy? Certifiably insane?

“The jury’s still out on that one,” I said. I’d like to say that I remained calm and determined in the face of such doubt. Determined – certainly. Calm – not so much.

I conceded that I would need help – and clearly from someone who didn’t reside at my own address. Enter the Maintenance Cowboy. I’m not kidding. That’s what he calls his handyman business. Seth is his name – the Maintenance Cowboy. It seems that Seth and his wife – both trained chefs, by the way – lived in Colorado for a while until they decided that good schools and being near family would be better for their young children. But once a cowboy always a cowboy, it seems.

I know Seth has had a culinary education, but I don’t know where he got his handyman skills. But so far, I’ve not seen anything this guy can’t do – with the kind of calm, unflappable ‘we can do this’ style that fits my images of sixties western heroes. Think the Virginian with a little dose of Maverick humor.

The best thing was that this was a cowboy who can teach. At first, I think he wanted me there to interpret that creative plan of mine. He’s probably dealt with a lot of customers who kvetch when his work isn’t precisely what they expected. As the project got going, though, Seth welcomed my help, and encouraged me to take on more and more of the work. Yee-hah!

I never expected to learn life lessons while tiling my bathroom floor. I only expected to learn how to tile. But I do believe the lessons apply to life as well as tile. What do you think?

When you’re planning a project, find someone to help you. Make sure it’s someone who, if he doubts your competence, will keep his thoughts to himself and who will calmly and patiently show you what needs to be done.

Don’t automatically expect that person to be the guy who promised to love, honor, and cherish you. All bets are off – or at least suspended – in the midst of a project where two of you don’t know what you’re doing.

Expect to apply a factor of four – or more. As in: The project will cost four times what you thought it would cost. You will make four more trips to Lowe’s than you anticipated you’d make (all right, maybe it was six trips). You will need four (all right, nine) more tiles than you purchased. It will take four times as long as you thought it would take. And so forth – times four.

Factor in hidden costs: clothing permanently stained, the cost of pizza, take out, and fast food meals because you won’t have time or energy left to shop and certainly not to cook.

The end result won’t be perfect. Tiny misjudgments in spacing expand along the way, causing bigger spacing issues later. And in the end, you’re the only one who will know where those little – or sometimes bigger – goofs show up. As the cowboy says, “Grout hides a multitude of sins.”

The grout and other gunk will eventually wear off your skin – even if it has epoxy in it. Mere days later, that sandpaper-like feeling will be only a memory.

In the end, the beauty of your project – and the satisfaction of doing at least some of it yourself - will be worth it all! A bathroom floor can never replace a wagging tail, but it is a good thing in and of itself.

Monday Moment - Love in Every Note

I had a long drive today, and since I’ve been up to my neck in a home improvement project during the last week (more on that next week maybe), I didn’t get to the library for my customary method of making a long car trip more enjoyable – an audio book.

With a book, an interminable trip goes quickly. Tempus fugit. In fact, sometimes I find myself slowing down as I return home – in an attempt to finish a chapter or a whole book.

But not this trip. I can tune in NPR for a good bit of the way so today I caught up on news I hadn’t heard or read in the last week. But somewhere along the Mohawk Valley, radio frequencies dessert me. Yikes! Interminable!

And then I remembered the tapes in the glove compartment – and the trip changed tempo once again.

You know how you’ll hear a piece of music, and it will take you back to a vivid memory in ways that few other things will do? That, in a nutshell, was my trip home.

In 1991, my late sweetie Dave began making what became annual music collections for me on cassette tapes. It started when I asked him to tape one song – James Brown singing “I feel good” – so I could do some chair aerobics in a workshop I was leading. But Dave couldn’t content himself with a single song. He gave me 90 minutes of “songs that made me think of you.” Thus began the annual tradition.

So today, although everyone else on the New York State Thruway was driving in 2008, I was living again in 1994. Dave’s memory lives for me every day, but listening to the music he selected to share with me in 1994 evoked more than just remembering the feelings of that time. I felt them – viscerally felt them – again.

There was sadness certainly. 1994 was a tough year. Dave had several big health setbacks in 1994, and some of the music spoke about “needing some magic to sweep him away” and life not being fair. And yet, 1994 was the year that we held our surprise wedding and had other countless relationship-deepening experiences together.

Dave’s been gone now for over nine years, and sometimes it seems as if our time together was in a different life. Until I hear his music – and Dave’s presence vibrates within me. So much of him and of our life together came back today, the humor and playfulness, the solid support we gave each other during tough times, the sustenance he wanted for me even after his life would end.

Losing Dave is not a present tragedy. I did my grieving and my healing, and life is good again. Sure there was some sadness. And there was also joy. I count joy remembered and felt again to be worth the sadness revisited. Well worth it! And there was such wonderful music – with love in every note!

May your heart sing with joy of past and present in the week to come!

Sally