Maybe later...

It's funny. People say to me all the time – I don't know how you get so many things done all the time! If they only knew. I nod my head, take the compliment. But deep down, it bothers me a little because I know the truth. If I didn’t procrastinate so much, I’d really be knocking things off the list!

So, let's start there. I make lists – lots of them. (At Christmas time my pockets are overflowing with gift lists, food lists, schedules, etc. etc.) And I have the best of intentions. On Sunday afternoon, I head to my office, review the stacks on the floor, and the piles on the desk – and then I start.

First, there's the client list – meeting dates, project deadlines, calls, and research. All of it goes on the list.

Just below that is my teaching list. I check the syllabus to make sure I'm not too far behind, review the chapter information, create writing assignments, and update the grade book. Each item is tagged with the day I intend to complete it.

The company list is next – prospective client contacts, current project check-ins, meetings, and conference calls. Now don't laugh too hard, but I also have a physical calendar on my desk with all the bill paying dates noted even though I pay everything online. I still like to have those in front of me as a reminder. Depending upon the time of the month, I also have notes to do invoices and balance the checkbook.

Finally, there’s the personal list. Reminders to buy birthday cards and presents and go to the UPS store to ship them. I have a list of dates that I’m needed to take the kids to school in the morning and a reminder to take my mother-in-law to her doctor appointments and to the grocery store each Monday. I have a list of books and wine to procure and items to pick up at Bed Bath & Beyond. (The grocery list is separate and downstairs.)

You would think I could efficiently power through it all. Cross things off! Watch the list grow shorter and shorter. And, of course, some items are non-negotiable. None of it is hard, but time can be a variable – how long do I think it will take to do that newsletter? Reply to an RFP? Research information for class? At the end of the week, there should be very little on the list, right? Sigh. It hasn't happened yet. And I know exactly why.

Maybe later.
Gee, it’s getting late in the day. Maybe I’ll finish that report in the morning.
I really should put a load of laundry in and maybe run the dishwasher. Oh, that’s right, the dishwasher isn’t draining right. I’d better call the repairman now. I’ll get back to my project later.
What a dreary day. Just sucks the motivation right out of me, ya know?
Did I remember to take something out of the refrigerator for dinner? Better do that now.
I’m brain dead – there are just no ideas coming to me. I’m going to put this aside and get back to it later.
I’m just going to look at Facebook for a minute. Oh wait, I have a new email. Better check it.

Now there are days I do get in the zone, and the words and ideas just come to me. I love days like that. When I look at the clock and it's already 4 p.m. Whew.

But it's' also true that I will sometimes look at my calendar (online) and see a blank block of hours, and I think – I can get stuff done then. I'm gonna sit and read a book for a while. Or maybe binge a little Netflix.

In the end, I need to remind myself it is okay to take a breath. I will get stuff done because that’s just the way I operate ( and working from home all these years has honed that skill for me.)  The list can always wait until later.

20 Days 'til Pitchers and Catchers

If you're a baseball fan, you understand. The World Series ended in October, and since then, baseball has taken a back seat to football, hockey, and basketball (and some will argue tennis and golf). It's a very trying time. Sure, we have the holidays to occupy ourselves, but they’re over. Now comes the long, dark, grey, cold, snowy, blowing, shoveling, scraping months of winter. We go about our daily lives, but it's not easy or fun. (Obviously, I'm not a skier or skater. I see no reason to get cold when I don't have to.)

We get through it because we know the smack of the ball into a mitt, the crack of a bat is coming. The mounds are being prepared, and the grass will be artistically mown. Spring training is just around the corner. Yes, we’ve been dismayed recently by the cheating scandals – the poor Dodgers on the receiving end of it twice! That’s not the game we love. And yet, we can also chuckle when the Yankees announce a “trash-can” fan giveaway day at their next meeting with the Astros. For Yankees fans, there was also the announcement of Derek Jeter's election to the Hall of Fame (we’d better not find out who that lone voter was that kept it from being unanimous!)

We’ve passed the winter solstice. Sunsets have now moved past 5 p.m. We’re just about through January, and February is a short month. Plans are being made for spring break in March when we can leave the puffy coats in the car at the airport and pack the shorts and flipflops as we head to warmer climes – if only for a week.

For now, we’ll trudge through the snow and slush in our UGG’s, refill the windshield washer fluid in an effort to stay ahead of the spray from traffic, and hold onto our hats when the wind gusts fight to set them free. We’ll make soup and chili. We’ll cozy up with books or put puzzles together. I’m working on another afghan – it keeps me occupied and warm at the same time.  We'll watch for signs of spring. The first robin, cardinal, or blue jay. The snow melting as quickly as it came down. Area nurseries reopening with plants for sale that have been growing all winter in the greenhouse. Spring is coming.

Until then, we’ll keep marking the days off on the calendar.  Twenty days ‘til pitchers and catchers.

Photo from the YES Channel Facebook page

What's the Word?

January is that time of year when everyone (it seems) is deciding on resolutions, goals, and all the positive changes they will make in the coming months. I’ve never really put much stock in resolutions. To me, they seem arbitrary. And perhaps unattainable. It’s a great idea, but the execution…..”I’ll start the diet again on Monday…It’s been too snowy to get to the gym…just didn’t feel like writing today…there’s just too much going on in my life right now…” As we all know, change is hard, and I do admire those who actually stick to it!

A friend recently gave me a different way of looking at this urge to do better, be better in the new year. Instead of writing down specific goals, pick a word. At first, I thought – what? A word? How is that going to make a difference? Then I thought about it, and it started to make sense. What if there was a word you could focus on every day – something simple, but something that could span your life in big and small ways. A word that could challenge you when necessary, soothe you when needed and serve as a centering place when the world has gone crazy around you.  Hmmmm…. There might be something to this.

So, I started writing down words (and groups of words). Inhale/exhale. Simplify. Open a door. Zen. Listen. Tap dance. Mindfulness. I gazed at the signs I have on my office bulletin board – If it’s not fatal, it’s no big deal.  Snow Happens – and the lava lamp slowly creating shape-shifting satisfying forms. And then I decided.  My word for the year is Calm.

Now, those who know me are probably laughing. Calm? Are you kidding? My life is full of multiple people and projects all needing my attention. I have deadlines to meet and places to be. Plans need to be organized! Calls made. Email returned. Events to attend. Yes, that’s all true. But those who know me also know that there are many times when I take a deep breath, close my eyes and comment – gotta get the zen back. So maybe Calm isn’t that far-fetched. Maybe it’s been there all along.

I’m the person who, when caught in a traffic jam, just turns up the music. I’m the person who says, okay, what's plan B, when Murphy's Law intrudes.  When folks are having a bad day, I'm the one who will sit and listen, only offering my thoughts if asked. Of course, I can be the raving lunatic at times, too – I'm human! I always ask why? Or why not? That won't change. But what if I could focus on the word Calm each day. Can that change my course? Perhaps help me learn more, hear more, see more? I think it could.

This will be an interesting experiment. My first calm insight is that this is a process. There will be days…. But as long as I can recognize what’s happening, remember my word, I’ll be happier, healthier, saner, and maybe my good vibes will rub off on others. You know what’s really funny? I downloaded the Calm app last year. Perhaps this year, instead of looking at the app icon, I'll actually open it up and use it. What do you think?

Well?

In the last couple of weeks, I’ve had several people (friends, acquaintances, relatives) ask me why there hasn’t been a blog post? “Isn’t it time for another one?” “What are you going to write about next?” “I’m waiting…” “Well?”

Well, I've been busy, okay? The holidays. Family visiting. Present wrapping. Menus to create and food to buy. And now the de-Christmasing! The obligatory Netflix binging and movie going! The clearing out of last year’s files and setting up for 2020! Plus, I have to put together the syllabuses (syllabi?) for the classes I’m teaching starting shortly. And…

Well, I guess those really aren’t excuses, are they? It's all just stuff, and there will always be stuff. And it's so easy to get caught up in all of it – and lose what should be meaningful. What's that you ask? For me, it's family. Whatever and whenever, they will always come first. Celebrating with them, supporting them, laughing with them, crying with them.  Being a parent, grandparent, sister, aunt, cousin. ( I tell my students that the only calls I will answer during class are from family.)

Of course, we all have responsibilities too. People that count on us, jobs to do. What gets lost in all of this? You and me.

Which brings me back to the blog post. I am very grateful (and a little surprised) when people tell me they enjoy my “words of wisdom.” If I can bring a laugh to someone’s day or express something they might agree (or disagree) with – that’s great! But I am finding I am really doing this for me. As I think I have mentioned in previous posts, I’m an observer, a visual person. And I find great fun in putting my thoughts down on paper (or, in this case – keyboard). It’s not a chore. It’s not an assignment. I do it because I want to, not because there is a deadline to meet. (I couldn’t think of writing every day – and I admire the bloggers who do. Now that’s commitment!)

Just this morning, a friend of mine mentioned that in the last quarter of the year, he hadn't been able to find time to do things for himself – his focus being his business. But he knows that's not sustainable either physically or mentally. His comment resonated with me.

And then I saw the Picasso quote you see above that another friend posted. (Is the universe reaching out to me? Who knows?) I have always felt that my ability to write is a gift. So, my only resolution this year is to keep giving it away. I think that’s one I’ll be able to keep.

  Happy New Year everyone!

Memories

Do you remember your 1st grade teacher – her name? How about your best friend in eighth grade? How about that class trip to Washington D.C.? What sites did you see? Can you remember the antics your classmates are talking and laughing about when you get together for a reunion? Did we really have a geometry teacher who reclined on the window ledge each class? What was the name of that professor who taught calculus in college by writing with one hand and erasing with the other – almost at the same time! There are some who can remember the tiniest details about events – what they were wearing, what was served for dinner, how many people were there. And names! The entire alto section of the choir, the cast and crew of the show, every single concert they’ve every been to. Not me.

Its not that I don’t want to remember (especially names – my husband’s specialty), my brain just doesn’t function that way. I remember faces – no problem!  And I just hate it when someone says, “You don’t remember me do you? “It’s so rude. I want to scream – “your face, but not your name.” But then I’d be rude too. So, instead, I’ve taken to just saying – “Nope, sorry, I don’t. Remind me.”

I’m visual. I remember books that I’ve read, plays that I’ve seen, and art exhibits I’ve attended. My memories are more like photographs – a point in time. Like watching my mother-in-law, son and grandchildren walking home from the Memorial Day parade. She with her walker, my son with the stroller. (I actually did take a photo of that moment.) This time of year, I remember my Dad dressing up as Santa and talking to his grandchildren who were in awe.

 My memories are often of faces – the beauty of our daughters-in-law as they came down the aisle and the beaming smiles on our boys. The panic and fright on my sister’s face when they told her the cancer was back and then, when it really wasn’t – relief and anger. Red cheeks and noses from sitting at December Giants games at the Meadowlands. My Mom’s face when she looked up from the audience when I received an award.

It used to bother me when people would talk about an event and I’d only have a vague recollection of it. Why couldn’t I remember it too? Was there a reason I perhaps blocked it from my memory? Was I not paying attention? I’ve since realized that it’s okay not to remember every tiny detail. I remember what it felt like. What it looked like. And that’s enough. More than enough.

The Bird's Nest

There it is. Sitting right there. Precariously holding on to its perch. Made from sticks, bits of cloth, some dirt, some string, and perhaps some tattered pieces of yesterday’s news. Yet it can withstand wind, rain and intruders which is a testament to the engineering of its design. From an assortment of odds and ends, something beautifully strong is created.

Then the waiting begins. Day after day. Night after night. Nothing happens. It just sits there.

Suddenly (it seems) a crack. A movement. Whatever had been going on inside is now working with all its might to get out. That cramped space unable to hold together any longer, gives way. From warm and secure to a much larger world. Suddenly there is competition - for food and attention. One moves another aside to make room. Growing stronger by the minute, learning while watching, and gathering up the courage to take a big leap.

And when that happens, the nest remains. Still strong, still secure. Waiting to begin again.

We see all kinds of parallels with the life of a nest. The most obvious being the family. Parents providing a loving, secure home for their children to grow up in. For them to stretch their wings and learn about the world. Then, when they are ready, to take flight and find their own way, their own nests.

Perhaps you can see the birth of a business in this story. The entrepreneur, meticulously building a place from which to grow a company and the people who are part of it until the point where it takes on a life of its own. Sending architects of ideas out into the world.

 It is like an idea? One that is cultivated carefully then fed to the hungry masses. And once ingested is taken away to be spread throughout the land? Each one now singing a slightly different song.

Or maybe, maybe it’s just a nest.

Box of 64

What’s your favorite color? It’s a straight-forward question, right? Ask a little kid and you’ll probably get an answer right away – although it could be the color they are currently using on a project. Or the it may change with the seasons – orange for Halloween, red or green for Christmas, yellow, purple or pink at Easter time. Easy question, easy answer.

So, what’s your favorite color? As adults, we may have a different take on the answer. Perhaps you respond with the colors of your alma mater. In our house that would be Syracuse Orange, Johns Hopkins blue or Bucknell blue and orange. (Nice how that worked out.) I remember when we were doing the college tour with our younger son, visiting several southern schools. We walked into the “Dean Dome” (Dean Smith Center) on the UNC campus, and I stopped in my tracks. Everything was baby blue. I mean everything. They call it Carolina Blue – I’m telling you it is baby blue. The seats, the aisles, the walls… I looked at our son and said – you cannot go here. I can’t deal with that much blue! (Besides, what on earth is a Tar Heel?) He ended up at Syracuse – go Orange!

Many folks identify with team colors, their company colors, or a group they belong to (scouts come to mind.) It was not so long ago that men were expected to only wear white or light blue dress shirts to the office – with skinny red ties or Brooks Brothers rep ties! Dark suits were de rigueur for men and women. My how times have changed.

But colors can become part of our identity. When our company was taking photos for our website, we wanted to do a group photo. The first one we did had all of us in bright colors of every sort. Then, we decided we should to the obligatory “creative black” photo in which we all wore black – top to bottom. (Bare feet appeared in both photos as the only company dress code rule we had was that you had to wear shoes when you met with a client.) I’m not sure how the color black became to be associated with creatives. In the sixties, hippies (then considered the creative force) wore tie dye. Poets sometimes wore black as did modern dancers. (The better to showcase their art?) At some point the all black uniform transferred to creative folks at agencies and then to Silicon Valley (Steve Jobs leading the way.)

One of my favorite things is the Crayola box of 64 crayons with the sharpener built into the side. Heaven! All those wonderful colors and those names (currently)– Bittersweet, Black, Potter orange, Blue Green, Blue Violet, Brick, Brown, Burnt Orange, Burnt Sienna, Cadet Blue, Cerulean, Chestnut, Cornflower, Carnation Pink, Dandelion, Forest Green, Gold, Goldenrod, Grammy Smith Apple, Gray, Green, Green Yellow, Indigo, Lavender, Macaroni and Cheese, Magenta, Mahogany, Mauvelous, Melon, Orange, Orchid, Olive Green, Pacific Blue, Peach, Periwinkle, Pink, Plum, Purple Mountain’s Majesty, Raw Sienna, Red, Red Orange, Red Violet, Robin’s Egg Blue, Salmon, Scarlet, Sea Green, Sepia, Silver, Sky Blue, Spring Green, Tan, Tickle Me Pink, Timberwolf, Tumbleweed, Turquoise, Turquoise Blue, Violet, Violet Red, White, Wild Strawberry, Wisteria, Yellow, Yellow Green, and Yellow Orange. Just reach in and go to town! (At least most of these color names make sense. Have you ever looked at the names of nail polish colors…?)

Designers will tell you that colors affect us in different ways. Every wonder why so many banks have blue in their logos? Blue is the color of trust. Green? Balance. Red – energy and passion. But of course, it also depends on the shade of color, where it’s placed, how it’s used. (hence the 64) A designer friend of mine drives a bright blue sports car. You can both see and hear it coming and it’s perfect for him. Think about the logos we know so well - the red Target bullseye, Starbucks green goddess, Facebook blue, Coke red, Amazon with the yellow “smile” from a to z. Colors have impact whether we realize it or not.

Me? What’s my favorite color? Black. If you look in my closet you will see a dozen pair of black pants and almost as many black shoes. It is my uniform. I can grab a pair of pants and any top in the closet and I’m ready to go. Every color goes with black. Even black goes with black and with grey which is another go-to for me. That’s not to say I don’t appreciate other colors.

In the fall I love the changing color of the leaves. I marvel at how nature uses color to promote and protect the creatures of our world. Not long ago, I was watering the flowers outside my front door and I had a visitor. A spectacular butterfly who stayed long enough for me to capture all its beauty. I may have 64 colors in my box of crayons, but Mother Nature’s palette is infinite. Sky blue, forest green and sea green, peach and melon and orange, cornflower, carnation and dandelion. These names will probably always be part of the box of 64. (I’m not sure about the staying power of Macaroni and Cheese - but we all sure know what that color is!)

The Divine Miss M

Bette Midler has always been one of my favorite people. She is a talent (singing, acting, directing and more.) She has been nominated and won so many awards (Grammy, Tony, Oscars, American Comedy Awards, Drama Desk Awards, People’s Choice Awards, Golden Globes, Emmy’s, etc.) She is a philanthropist (did you know she was one of the first supporters of the Adopt-A-Highway program?) She is a bundle of energy.  I saw her on Broadway many years ago– she wore high heels that clacked as she ping-ponged across the stage giving grief to the folks who came in late to her Clams on the Half Shell Revue. She may be small in stature, but she was in control of that very large theater – from start to finish. And that’s the thing I love about her most. She does things her way and doesn’t take any guff from anyone.

“Fuck’em if they can’t take a joke.”
That’s a direct Bette Midler quote. And one that I often turn to. It takes a lot of courage to make that declaration. Sometimes, it’s exactly the right sentiment. I use it to remind myself that I’m doing the best I can and most times I’m doing it well– and that needs to be enough.

I’ve always believed that if you’re not moving forward – you’re losing ground. Stasis is not in my DNA. I am forever taking leaps without hesitation. From roller coasters (I ride them all!) to surfing (bought a surfboard before I ever tried hitting the water) to taking motorcycle riding lessons (failed at that one) and deciding to get a tattoo instead. You want me to be the President of the Junior League? Sure (they never knew what hit them!)

When I decided I just couldn’t hawk another checking account any longer in my position in the marketing department of a local bank (there are only so many ways….), I took a chance and started my own company. I believed I could do it, plus it meant I’d have more time at home with the boys while they were young. Sayonara security and a steady paycheck. Hello to actually being able to be creative – what a concept! When a client would ask – can you do this for me? I’d always answer yes, and then figure it out later. It led to meeting great minds and some of the hardest working, loyal people I’ve ever known. When one of my clients heard that I was thinking of retiring he said oh no you don’t. Come be my general manager as I figure out what to do with this company over the next couple of years. Sure! Back to a dependable income again…

Now I’m getting ready to take another leap. Retirement. I’ve already cut back on the number of clients I have- and I’m getting pretty choosy about who I work with. Even went back to teaching part-time at a local university. But in another year, my husband retires from a job he has had for 45 plus years. Can you imagine it? No one does that anymore. He loves what he does – and he’s damn good at it. I’ve been able to ease into changes gradually. For him, it will be a total shock to the system. No more alarm clocks, heading into the office to work on Sundays to check the mail and prep for the week, or attending event after event.  

In anticipation, we’ve started a list. Things to do and places to go. I saw a poster online the other day that had drawings of all the MLB ballparks. You can scratch off each one to reveal a color version of it as you visit them… he may get that as a Christmas present this year as that is a to-do on the list. Perhaps we’ll go on a cruise right after he retires. (You can pretty much ignore your phone when you’re in the middle of the ocean.) And when they do call him (and I know they will) he will answer because that’s the kind of guy he is. Me? I want to be able to say – Nope, sorry we’re busy being busy. And fuck’em if they can’t take the joke!

Although I have many Better Midler favorite songs, I thought this one – I’m Beautiful – from her Bathhouse Betty album is quite appropriate for this conversation. ENJOY!
https://www.lyrics.com/track/2240646/Bette+Midler/I%27m+Beautiful

SMASH it with a hammer...

I’m no technology wiz, but I have always been interested in “new shiny things.” And, since I have always tried to live by the motto of “Opening Doors”, I am usually willing to try something new – at least once. But like most folks I have my preferred tech choices and we get used to how they work.  A comfort level is established. I know what is going to show up when I boot up the laptop. I can find the settings on my phone and make changes with relative certainty. The other day I figured out how to add SiriusXM to the Sonos – yeah!

But then there are days….

Earlier this week, my laptop decided to do an update. (After working with some really smart tech guys for a while I am always leery when this occurs.) Hitting the start button, I quickly realized that I had entered another dimension – where things were not the same, even though they sort of looked like it. But I wasn’t fooled. My icons were missing, the photo of my grandchildren was hidden behind a screen – I could barely see their beautiful faces. Big blocks of color crowded the screen. AAAACKK! Where was my desktop with all my files? I took a deep breath – and started clicking.

I won’t bore you with the details, but I did eventually find a way to see my email (which I of course can deal with on my phone, so that really wasn’t a help.) It quickly became apparent that frustration with the inability to work the way I normally do was going to outweigh being productive at all. I sent an urgent message to a friend of mine – HELP! My computer has entered a parallel universe! – and decided to go get some errands done. At least I could be productive on that end of my life.

Nope. Got in the car and the SiriusXM decided to do an update to the channel list. Okay, no biggie. I headed on my merry way waiting for the screen to say !00% updated. It did. But there was silence. I started pushing buttons (you see a pattern here?) All my presets were gone! And this isn’t the first time this has happened. AAAARRRGGGHHH!  Technology was conspiring against me. There was nowhere to hide!

I took a breath. Laughed at myself and remembered the sign that hangs on my office wall - If it’s not fatal, it’s no big deal. I could reset the presets. If I didn’t get to every email it was okay. And all I had to do was wait until the following day when my friend could take a look at the laptop. (He did and with two clicks all was right with the world again. And he showed me what to do if it happens again.)

Disconnected from all things that ring, ping, and click for the rest of the day - it was an incredibly productive afternoon. I recharged my batteries. Perhaps put things in a little better perspective. Just because my technology wasn’t working, didn’t mean that I couldn’t still think. I grabbed paper and pen, jotting down notes for my class, ideas for my clients. Gave my sister a call. Perused some cookbooks. Then I sat in a comfy chair and read a book.

Today, I’m back on the computer, getting things done. And I know that the next time I have a technology-trying day (and there will be a next time, we all know that) I will laugh first, then breathe, and then try not to “smash it with a hammer.”

Where's home?

It’s one of those questions. You know, when someone is trying to make small talk because the two of you just got stranded by the hostess when she spotted another, more interesting, guest. “You two should get to know one another. I bet you have lots in common.” And so, with that onus placed on our shoulders we begin.

Where’s home?

 Oh, you probably never heard of it. Small town in northeastern Pennsylvania.

Oh yeah? I grew up in Kunkletown.

I’m from Kingston.

Well whatta ya know. Small world huh?

Getting smaller by the minute. I think I’ll go get a drink.

Where’s home.
Is it North Jersey where I grew up? Where my sister and her high-school-sweetheart husband still live? Is it NEPA where I’ve lived for the past 43 years? Is it the three dorm apartments, the townhouse, the various houses we’ve lived in on campus? Is it the 120 year old family homestead in the middle of campus that we lived in for 20 years and my husband for his entire life?

Is it the new condo that we spent the last year or so remodeling -tearing out staircases, re-fronting cabinets, repainting and carpeting, adding bathrooms and bedroom, and furnishing?  With the move this past summer, “home” has changed in many ways. For my hubby, no more walking next door to his office to check on the mail or put in a couple of hours on Sunday. He’ll probably still do it, but now it will entail a drive–not a long one–but still a drive.

Patterns need to be rethought. We’ve determined new routes to the gym and Wegman’s. Discovered a couple of neighborhood restaurants. The requests for grandparenting activities may be less last minute–after all we’ll be more than one block away! I had recently said that having a place that is truly ours–decorated in our style, with our collection of artwork from all of our travels, enough electricity not to blow a circuit every time two appliances kick on, an automatic garage door opener (heaven!)–is going to be just wonderful. And it is.

It is our house. Not my in-laws house, not the school’s dorm/townhouse/house. Ours. It will be a place we come back to as we start to check things off the bucket list of retirement. Final four–check. Baseball stadiums across the country–check. Quick runs to Bucknell for football, basketball and events at the Weis Center–check. Napa wine country trips and cruises–check. We’ll always come home and know that things are in the right place. The couches still comfy. The wine cooler full. The books just where we left them.

Where’s home? Right here. Right now.  And it’s wonderful.

Let me explain...

When I posted yesterday I mentioned that the title of the blog– Let Me Get My Shoes – is a tribute to my Mom. Several folks reached out to me worried that something had happened to her! Oops. Please know that she is alive and kicking! I used the word tribute, because starting this blog, for me, is my way of saying (as she does) – Let me get my shoes. 

Let me explain.
My Mom is 88. Like anyone who has reached that ripe old age, she’s had some challenges – a pacemaker, knee replacements, hearing loss, and a minor stroke. But nothing really stops her.

She’s a Floridian through and through having moved to Tampa over thirty years ago. She roots for all the Tampa teams even going to ice hockey games with my brother who keeps an eye on her when she’s south. She has season Broadway series tickets at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center and attends by herself (“I’ve gotten to know the family seated next to me and they always help me get my headphones on so I can hear the show.”)

Let me explain.
Each summer she makes the trek north. And she’s just as active here. My sister will drag her to collie dog gatherings and out for sushi. I grab her to go to galleries and spend time with her great-grandchildren. She rides in the cart with my brother as he plays nine holes late in the afternoon. But we are only part of her social life.

Let me explain.
There’s the Red Hatters lunches. The condo association gatherings. And her favorite group, the MahJongg ladies. Now steps are hard for Mom, but she has her own purple-flowered fold-flat footstool (which she keeps in the bag of her red walker) that she whips out so that she can climb onto the bus when this group hits the road. She did a river boat cruise on the Hudson last fall – by herself. She’s planning on doing another one on the Mississippi in 2021 (my sister and I are angling for an invite.)

Let me explain.
This past week she had to have a small growth removed from her cheek. It was done in the doc’s office and at the end she had not very subtle stitches. “I’m ready for Halloween.” But did she want to go home to rest – nope. It was Tuesday – MahJongg day. So she asked my sister-in-law to take her to Carrabbas so she could catch up with the MahJongg ladies for dinner.

If she can be open to new experiences, ready to try almost anything – so can I. Like her, I want to be able to say – Hang on, let me get my shoes.

See you in the morning

Let’s get it out there right away – I am not a morning person. I don’t understand the need to jump out of bed and into a flurry of activities to start the day (making the bed, setting out the breakfast dishes and starting the coffee maker.) Now that doesn’t mean that I don’t get up early every morning to work out, it just means that you don’t want to have a conversation with me as I pull on my sweats and sneakers. I prefer the quiet of a day not yet started.

My trainer gets it – he checks to see if my knees (or anything else) are hurting before we begin, but he knows that I will focus on the task at hand and I don’t need any chit-chat. (I have to remember to breathe!) Same goes for the days when we head to Planet Fitness. Everyone else will be ear-budded into their favorite news station or ESPN on the overhead TV’s. Me? I plug in to HGTV – mindless (although I do admit to glancing at the forecast on the TV next the one I’m watching.) I carry my phone with me for emergencies but growl when I hear pings and dings for messages or texts. Shhhhhh! Let me be.

It’s not until I make coffee, have a cup (or 2) and complete the New York Times crossword puzzle that I am really ready to face the day. Early in the week, when the puzzles are easier, it’s a shorter period of adjustment time before I head to the loft/office, cup in hand, sort through the to-do lists on my desk, and answer emails. Then I’m set. Only then will I turn on music (deciding if it’s going to be a Jimmy Buffet or a Bruno Mars type of morning.)

This is when I am most productive. Checking items off the list, responding to messages, planning, scheduling. Before I know it, the morning is gone and sometimes part of the early afternoon. If I have meetings, I try to get them on the morning calendar while my neurons are firing and I might actually be able to contribute a cogent thought. This is also the time I write.

If it’s copy for a client’s webpage – I do it in the morning. If it’s a review of meeting notes with accompanying suggestions for next steps – I do it in the morning. Talking points for the afternoon class I teach – in the morning. This essay – it’s 10:30 a.m. I try to stay off the phone, away from social media. Unfortunately, my kids also know my schedule and they will text with questions or requests. Which is pretty funny actually – as I’m likely to acquiesce to their queries without thinking. “Hey Mom, can you keep the dog overnight tonight?” “Sure.” (Wait, what?) All I want to do is keep the thoughts coming and the creative juices flowing and not get sidetracked by a long discussion about mundane details. It’s a race against time as I know that by 2 p.m. I’m toast.

So perhaps I am a morning person.

There is something to be said for the first peaks of light coming through the big loft windows. Or even the rain’s soft noise. Morning darkness, which we’ll see now until March, does provide a bit of a cocoon – keeping the demands of the day at bay. And I guess that’s all I really ask. Let me ease into the day, keep my mind uncluttered from the world for a while.