Once upon a time my Saturday morning opened up. And I immediately shuffled the task list in my head to fill it with items so that I could, you know, maybe find some time later for…something. Like, maybe, sleep?
I have documents to write, review & edit, spreadsheets to format and piles of sticky notes to record and concepts from past meetings to organize and pull themes from. I have lots of items and ideas to fill up this new found time and turn it into “productive” time. I even brought some of them with me to the arts centre today where – while the Magpie dances and acts for a few hours – I could start a round of data input and begin the germs of analysis.
And yet. The centre has friends. And a coffee shop. And wifi. And this time was mentally blocked off and the sticky note work was, really, already slated in another time and space… and, really, I have not blogged in a while. And blogging is good and helps with the creativity and workflow …and, and, and…oh, hey, there’s an art display out too!
So am I procrastinating or am I taking a sanity break? Am I being ineffective or allowing myself space to be more rejuvenated and more effective later? I am calling the latter. I am not setting myself “behind” by reassigning this time as rest and writing. And it is certainly no waste to connect with friends – in the real-world and the interwebs.
So, here’s to the sanity, and a good cup of coffee.
And now for something completely different though, undoubtedly, a something that is also distracting me from my tasks above.
Though you wouldn’t know by the weather today, spring actually hit the west coast this week with a vengeance. Full on sun, warmth and blossoming trees and flowers are everywhere. Lighter jackets, skirts and dresses all came out of winter storage around the city. And so did the sandals.
Oh, yes. It became sandal-prep time. My toes weathered the winter well enough, I suppose, but there’s “well enough”, there is “wearing flip flops in the back patio” and then there is “wearing sandals to a wedding next week”. So, in preparation for that last one, I took a bit of a closer look at my toes. Nails, okay. Cuticles…okay now. And, finally, the top of my big toe (only one of them, not both, for some reason) for that one stupid stray hair that appears once or twice a year out of absolute nowhere and is suddenly 42 feet long. And yet – phew! – not a hair in sight!
Until I moved my hand back a bit to the top of my foot. The damn thing freaking migrated. There it was, sticking straight up, off the very topmost of the top of my foot a full 1 1/2 ” and looking for all the world like it was trying to gauge the wind currents or assess the angle of my step like the middle-ear of my foot. It was full of presence and self-importance. So I plucked the pretentious thing out.
I will not be walking around next week’s wedding with Frodo feet, proper balance and wind-speed measurements be damned. Besides, I will be wearing heels – it’s not like I wont’ be staggering around and unbalanced anyway.