The amount of time between blog posts is longer and longer, but not because I don’t think about writing. Rather, I’m just so busy – overwhelmed – with the amount that there is to do. Writing about it seems like a time loss, but I know from past experience that it’s in the writing that I sometimes prioritize enough to allow me to GET through the work.
In my classes I talk about swatching, and use the analogy of a road map for a trip. It takes time to buy the map, plan the route, but you’re so happy you’ve done the work when all is said and done.
I guess, for me, the blog is the same. I’ll mention things that have been rattling around in my head – things that don’t even seem to connect to ME, like the purr-ito to the right – and by the time I’ve finished my blog post I’ve found some ways to link projects or combine research. The kind of shortcut you would see on a map. Now how will I get that purrito into a project…?
Or by writing about my current projects I may veer off into a subject that I hadn’t thought much about before – a scenic side trip – which becomes one of the more satisfying memories of my journey.
Mostly, though, the sheer weight of day-to-day stuff that I have to do weighs me down, and I slip blogging to the bottom of the list. I shouldn’t. I get more from it than I know.
‘bye, Tim!
I was so stunned and so sad, as was everyone, at Tim Russert’s sudden passing. It’s clear to all who know me that I’m a HUGE politics wonk (a golden time for me was when Face the Nation, Meet the Press and This Week were staggered so that one could catch ALL of them, one after another, on a Sunday morning.)
I enjoy Meet the Press, and I loved Tim – I feel as though I knew him – as the moderator. How ironic, and so damned sad, that his passing coincides with Father’s Day.
Gerry said, “Folks didn’t say, ‘Did you see Meet the Press?‘ They said, ‘Did you see Russert?'”
I can’t help but feel this past primary season (in addition to recently checking Ol’ Russ into an assisted living facility) just became too much for Tim and his heart.
Boy, will he be missed. I found myself weeping as I watched the tip of Keith Olberman’s nose turn a bright red, the sign he was trying to hold back tears himself.
No matter how busy you are – rest. Sleep. Take time for yourself. Don’t use yourself up, replenish. I know, funny words from busy me, but I DO take time to rest. I’m a big believer in sleep health, I get my full 8 (or more) each night, it’s sacrosanct to me.
Green Gerry
Today we did some gardening, nothing huge, just mowing the lawn and some trimming. I ran off to Menards and got flowers and cedar chips to make the front of our house look a little less ‘rental’, and Gerry cleared the eaves of the Garage from the 1,000,000,000 maple leaf helicopter seed pods that have embedded themselves. We even had a few tiny little tree-lets already growing up there. When Spring comes to Minnesota, it comes with a vengeance!
I also got some grass seed, and so our yearly “Can we get grass to grow in shade?” ritual begins.
Yesterday Gerry outdid himself with a LONG walk (with walker) to the Linwood Park, where we met some friends and our 4 redheaded kids ran amok (Max & friend in a tree…)
Then back to our house – a 3/4 mile walk – for some chat, and Gerry was WIPED OUT for most of the rest of the day. Wiped, but very proud of himself, and very happy.
The accupuncturist is doing amazing things for his pain, and I saw her this week for my breathing (and also for the heel spur that I seemed to have developed at TNNA)
But no matter how much others can do for him, when Gerry pushes himself he pays for it the next day with pain or exhaustion (or both.) So today he slept in for Father’s Day while Max and I rode our bikes to the bagel shop, then made Gerry an East Coast breakfast in bed along with his oxycodone.
But what is life without the striving? Gerry’s doing so much more than we’d hoped at this point last year. We cannot help but contrast our current happiness with the Russert family grief.
The balance between the push and the pause, that’s what we’re all looking for.