I wish to thank you for your undying,extreme patience. Such a virtue that not many possess, including me. But you, you are something special. Your guidance is unending and your calm demeanor astounds me. There are times when we seem in such a state of panic, the anxiety rises as the road ahead seems so unsure. Your confidence pulls us through every time. I will say that I would not be upset if just once you blurted out maybe a word or two in exasperation. I would truly understand. Sometimes, I think I hear a bit of tenseness, quite similar to that of a parent talking with a clenched jaw after 10 minutes of a child that does not listen. Say it is so, tell me that I am not just imagining all of this. Just once do not announce that you are willing to “recalculate” but let it out…it would make me smile and that tenseness I am beginning to note, I think that may be alleviated as well. Thank you again for your services Maggie Magellan.
My life is filled with dreams, desires and dandelions. Those pesky little sprouting weeds of thought. As hopes and plans germinate lists in my head…some find their way to pen and paper- others are left unattended. The neglected ones multiply daily thus the dandelions quickly and effortlessly emerge.
Like many planners, I tend to strategize and trick myself into a false sense of internal organization- all under the guise of control. But I can never rid myself of those pesky dandelions. Upon rising to start a new day, they greet me, calling attention to themselves…reminding me that I am really never in control.
There is something to learn from the dandelions of life. While I could continuously pull and dig, pick and spray, they seem to always find a way back into my life. I am now trying to appreciate their sunny yellow bright flower- much like I did as a child. I am now attempting to stand up a bit to tomorrows’ lists and desires. Admiring today for what it is – is most important…dandelions and all.
Some days I ask so much of you. I fear you may revolt against me. Yet the way you hold me together amazes me. I know it is difficult and sometimes you do so very reluctantly. I cause you a lot of stress sometimes. I know this… I am sorry. But you rarely fuss long and cause me problems. You are most flexible – I take you for granted.
But I won’t deny we have had our moments. Those times when you get out of sorts…just so disconnected. I get exasperated and take it out on you. I know that you are not at fault. But my own shortcomings are hard to face sometimes and I place the blame elsewhere. I take you for granted.
Tomorrow is another day. I will call upon you as I get ready for work. You will be there for me. I will promise you a thousand times that I will make life easier on you in the days to come. Hasn’t worked out so far has it? But I will try.
And when I grasp your pull and your teeth begin to clench- I will not take you for granted. Just make it to the stop for me without hesitation. We will then remain friends for another day. I thank you dear zipper and I will no longer take you for granted. I promise.
The chicken round-up…a competitive, down and dirty, sweaty sport played on our farm. Those ladies know how to stagger and dash quicker than an NBA point guard headed down the arena floor. Recently I agreed to participate in a little early morning one-on-one with one of the fab four as she had made her way across the road into land untraveled- by chickens. Dressed in work clothes and pulling out of the drive, I spied the little feathered adventure seeker as she victoriously strutted and pranced not knowing what danger waited silently nearby. I pondered for a moment…looked at my high heels and just for the briefest of time…thought to let her go and see what happens. But I then quickly decided to take up the challenge as she was way over her head in this. The round-up was on. Her three squawking cheerleaders poked their heads through the fence line and chanted incessantly as they watched my approach. We engaged in a few moments of “run-n-grab” before I knew I needed to change tactics. We stared at each other not daring to flinch. And then…in one big swoop I had her in my hands. Her wings were fluttering and the cheering section was agog with bawks and cackles. I returned her to the safety of the big green pastures and open fields and I dared ask the age-old question….”why did the chicken cross the road…?” She never answered me.
There are some things in life that I just don’t want to part with and one are my winter overalls. Yep, those beautiful, hang below the crotch bibs that keep me warm early in the morning when I venture out to do my barn chores. Once I start wearing them…I just can’t stop until spring. Somehow I become dependent upon them and if not worn the winter seems to cut right through me (even on a sunny winter day). I hold out as long as I can but at some point I don them with an eagerness equated with a new outfit- and they are anything but…
A couple of years ago I sprang for new ones as I caught the old on a rusty nail sticking out of the wall of the barn. The rip was huge on my left thigh. I gasped in panic. The iron on patch could only hold it together for a winter and the thermal stuffing was sneaking out whenever it could. So…there I was in the farm store looking for another. I tell you there is nothing glamorous in finding a new pair of overalls. They do not look very trendy or fashionable on the hangers (or on me) and the sizes….oh to get a pair to fit over jeans and a sweatshirt takes courage and determination. This is much more than buying boots ½ size larger to take in account for heavy socks. Currently I sport a deep purple pair with frayed leg bottoms. I don’t know why I bought purple but at least they were in a women’s size. Somehow the makers still have this hang up about the crotch though…Oh well.
My faithful purple overalls are currently hanging up waiting to be used again tomorrow morning. We will meet up…no exchange of hello but maybe a yawn or two from me…and head out. But I could not get through the winter without them. Maybe as I get older I realize comfort is becoming more important than fashion….Oh boy- I don’t own any velour sweatpants yet but who knows….
Procrastination… sometimes I get bit by this nasty bug- the sting is undeniable. Once bitten, I talk myself out of doing something because tomorrow is just around the corner and frankly, I can do it then. The whole time that I reason with myself about delaying my task at hand, I know in the recesses of my mind what I am doing…procrastinating. I feel myself becoming weak with the symptoms. I tell myself tomorrow I will feel better. Yet tomorrow is always out of reach…conveniently a few steps beyond the present and never quite in my grasp.
I am a list maker and to come down with the postpone flu or delay delusions can make life complicated. My rationalization must be sophisticated. Anxiety can become a secondary symptom and then my mental state is flush with regret. So there is a lot of chatter between Me and Myself. A few “I told you so” and “shouldn’t have done it-s” are shouted. Our resolve is tested. We must join forces to fight this urge to dilly dally.
I think I will look over my latest list- the mental one in my head. I haven’t written this one down yet. Haven’t been able to bring myself to do so. It is rather long, detailed and cumbersome. Maybe tomorrow I will face it head on. Maybe tomorrow I will tackle the details…well maybe …. I really dislike the procrastination bug. I wish there was a vaccine for it.
Getting ready for an annual girls’ weekend. Can’t wait to go but geez do I hate packing. Not that I have to take a lot of things but just trying to decide puts undue pressure on me. What will the weather be like? Where will we be going? Just a lot of thinking in order to get ready to relax. But like every year I will end up taking too much clothing and returning with a vow that next year I will be more sensible.
Sensible packing…always wished I could be like those people I see checking in with one little suitcase. I want to walk up and say “tell me your secret.” They stand there looking a bit smug and confident with their decision-making skills. So I tell myself that it must be just an over nighter trip, makes me feel more competent. I am always nervous when we get to check the baggage and I watch the scales with anticipation. Did I do good? I really tried and went through to pare it down a bit. Usually I just make it by with an obvious look by the airline employee. My husband then whips his luggage over – one-handed – and gets a thank you sir smile from her. Don’t tell me she isn’t playing coy, she knows how much it takes a woman to get ready. A straightener, curling iron – yes it is possible and probable to use both during one hair session fellas- various shoes, and jackets/coats as well as the mainstay of clothing. I tell myself that layering is safest but you gotta take all the layers to be effective. This spring my husband and I went out west. When we checked in for our return flight my luggage was over the limit. Now we were in a very small airport in Flagstaff and not much he (notice I said he) could do but pay the overcharge. I hung my head like someone who was carrying contraband. Yep, I took too much and obviously brought extra home. I didn’t think it was possible. I almost asked to look in it and see what was packed in there by mistake.
Well I need to get back to that packing for the weekend. I tell myself…remember…three days and 2 nights…I can do it this time. I will shock them all as I appear a bit smug and confident in my decision-making skills sauntering in with a little bag. There is no kidding myself. I know my obsessive qualities too well.. This weekend is all about relaxation. In order for that to happen I must now stress over what to take. Simplify my life, I’m all about it except when it comes to packing.