Procrastination

When Brooke was two or so, she was sitting in the middle of the floor staring into space. I asked her what she was doing and she responded, "I am procrastinating." It was hilarious at the time because she did indeed know what the word meant. I am not sure what she was avoiding in her moment of procrastination, but I have no doubt that if she said she was procrastinating, that is exactly what she was doing.

Fifteen years later, she still procrastinates, the only difference is that she is not as willing to admit to it now. I ask myself if her fondness for procrastination is a product of nature or nurture. Is there an "I'll do it later" gene? Or, is it my fault. Did I raise her to be this way? I have to step back and consider for myself how much I procrastinate.

I am not a procrastinator when it comes to big projects. I will not let something that is so big pull me under at the end. I usually have a plan and most often, I stick to it. It is in trivial little things that I find myself saying that I will do it tomorrow. Just like the little things that compounded yesterday to make for a poor day, so can all the little things that we put off compound and make us feel overwhelmed. Most of the tasks that I put off can be accomplished in only a few minutes. Here is a list of my favorite things to do later.

• change a light bulb
• renew subscriptions
• change the cat box
• put the laundry away after it is folded
• water the houseplants
• sweep the kitchen
• put the toilet paper actually on the roller
• shelve books in the "right" place
• throw away dated magazines and catalogs
• make my bed
• wash the "reds" load

I have no explanation as to why I just don't do these things when they first cross my mind. I am not sure what I am waiting for. It sure as heck isn't for someone else around here to do it for me! Even though I make the choice not to do something, I am perturbed the next day when it still is not done. The obvious solution here is as Nike says, "Just do it!"

So, as I begin the real summer break, I am going to make an attempt at breaking my habit of procrastinating when it comes to the small things. They say that it takes 28 days to form a new habit. Let's see if that is true. As a start, I accomplished almost every item on the above list today;however, there are still more bulbs to be changed and laundry to be put away.

As for Brooke, she has not picked up her Honor Society stole for graduation, which is Friday, or talked to the people in charge about what her role in the commencement exercises is. The big stuff waits. And she does not sweat the small stuff. It may be years before she even notices that the light bulb is burned out and years before she replaces it. I do believe their is an "I'll do it later" gene. I refuse to believe that this is all nurture.

I'll let you know how this all works out . . .later.

True Colors

Today has been one of those days where nothing seems to have gone right. Nothing too serious has gone wrong. It is just many small things, when taken all together, that make the day, well, bad. I don't like days like this. I feel guilty for being unhappy, yet to act any other way would be a lie. So for today, Eeyore I will be.


If you are wondering what is so bad (remember I said it is no one thing), here is the list:

• Though I have had my choir vestments at home for nearly two weeks, I forgot to wash them. (Do I get credit for washing every single throw rug in the house because the puppy thinks they are grass?) This morning my vestments got an all expense paid trip to the dryer with the finest of dryer sheets to remove the wrinkles that resulted from being wadded up on the counter for said two weeks and to minimize the sweaty odor from our last concert where it was 350 degrees by actual count!
• The ice maker on the fridge has ceased to work. This is tough for one who thinks that iced tea is gasoline for the human body.
• I am exhausted.
• The dogs ate the entire container of Parmesan cheese that was intended to put the gourmet touch on the sauteed vegetables and spaghetti that we had for dinner.
• The float on the toilet is sticking making it necessary to remove the lid and manually adjust it each time you flush. (Without iced tea this is not as often as it could be!)
• And the dogs, in a moment of true dogginess that involved chasing one another through the house (this is a definite disadvantage to a round house) knocked over and broke a two foot statue of St. Francis. Though still in its bubble wrap, it is is too many pieces even for super glue.

That's all.

While wandering around feeling sorry for myself, I spied a hank of yarn on the table in the playroom.Yesterday the Accidental Knitter and the Knitting Fairy came to visit. The Accidental Knitter brought newly dyed yarn for us to name - always a fun time. When this particular hank made its way out of the bag, everyone said that it looked like me, not that it really lookedi like me (that would be the undyed stuff) But that it looked like something I would like. I did and I handed over the cash immediately!But, there were three more hanks just like it that still needed a name. I was too busy drooling over the colors, imagining how they would look when they were knit into a fabulous sock, to engage in the naming process. When I finally came back to the party, they had named it Primarily Kris. A perfect name, don't you think? Here it is.

Awesome, huh? Don't you just love all the blues? I really should have just left it alone for now, but I had the urge to put it on the swift and wind it into a ball - making it one step closer to knitability. I really don't have anything in particular that I want to be knitting right now. I did finish a pair of socks the other night during the show. Never mind the fact that I started them before Christmas. To the swift I went. Though I should be doing laundry or the dinner dishes that are still on the counter, I am winding my yarn. We have another weekend of the show's run. I should be able to get a good start on a pair of socks!


Here is the wound ball.

This will be a great pair of sock made from a yarn with a cool name. I love my friends. Did I mention the cinnamon buns and the chocolate chip cookies that they also brought? True calories to go with my true colors! Life is looking up.

What Is Hate?

The Denton Community Theatre's production of The Laramie Project opened last night to a small but appreciative audience. Tonight was a larger audience-possibly because the performance was to be followed by a "talk back" on the question, "What would Denton do if a similar incident were to occur in our town?' The discussion was facilitated by a three-member panel consisting of a psychologist who specializes in post traumatic stress, a social worker who happens to be a gay man, and a faculty member form the university who works in the field of diversity. Further participants were members of the cast and crew and any members of the audience who wished to stay. The discussion began with a rather academic definition of what post traumatic stress is and how it impacts individuals and communities. Next was a description of what diversity really means and what equality, ideally, is. Then the floor was opened to comments from the audience.

The first person to speak gave a positive review of the night's performance and stated how proud he was to live in a community that was willing to engage in a production that highlights a controversial topic. This sentiment was echoed by one or two others. Then a gay man who is involved with a local GLTB group spoke. He talked about times where he had been victimized in Denton. Though I think that at the outset, people were sympathetic to his cause, he had a chip on his shoulder and wanted a forum for his complaints rather than to offer any insight into how he might play a role in making Denton a place where a crime such as the murder of Matthew Shepard would be most unlikely.

Then came the one person that we all knew would be there but hoped would not. It is not a particular named person, but the one who would be on "the other side". This man began by asking, "By what standard do you define hate?" Several people responded with such things as the laws of our land, personal morals, anything that promotes inequality through race, gender, disability, sexuality. He was not satisfied by any of the answers to his question. He concluded that there really is no standard by which hate can be defined. He then asked, "Is there such a thing as absolute truth?" Unsure how to respond, one of the panel members returned his question to him. He said, "Yes, I do believe there is an absolute truth." He would not, however, clarify what he believed that absolute truth to be. A fascinating circular discussion ensued.

I believe that he wanted someone to say that absolute truth was defined by the Bible. And if we believed this then, according the Bible (or his reading of the Bible) homosexuality is wrong. Thus, what happened to Matthew Shepard, and other victims of "hate crimes" was not hate. It was the way the world should be as defined by holy scripture. Fortunately, no one took his bait and he never had the opportunity to make his point.

He wanted to make a scene. The others taking part, obviously a liberal majority, took to heart the message of The Laramie Project. By not engaging in hurtful language or dialogue, we took the first step to erasing hate, to creating an atmosphere of hope.

Though I know I would not agree with much of what this man wanted to say, he did pose an interesting question. What is hate? How would you personally define it? How do we as a society define hate?

I believe that hate is a response to a feeling of intense fear, fear of someone or something that is so different from what we know that we are unable and unwilling to try to understand it. Human beings have at the top of their "To Do" list, self preservation. Fear rises up when we are threatened. The question becomes why are we so fearful? Why do we feel threatened by homosexuals, African Americans, Hispanics, disabled persons, old people, young people. The key to diminishing hate in our society is diminishing fear. How can this be accomplished?

I believe that dialogues such as the one that happened this evening is a start. Unfortunately, time was not on our side. The show ended about 10:15 and it was nearly 10:30 before we got started. And, it was 11:15 before we really got started with the meat of the discussion. It was late and we had to come to abrupt stop. We did, however, have a start.

St. Francis had an intense dislike for lepers. It was confronting his fear of lepers that led to his conversion and his lifelong relationship with God. He was able to overcome his fear of these person he saw as disgusting. We all have "lepers" in our lives. Like St. Francis, we must confront them and work to overcome our fear of them. This is the only way that we, as individuals and a society, can rid ourselves of hatred.

As you consider who the lepers are in your own life, remember too that you are probably a leper in the life of another. Consider both sides of the issue.

What is hate?

And The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon

At our house, everyone likes to eat and a couple of us like to cook. (Erin has even taken up the mixing bowl and spoon!) The upshot of these two things, cooking and eating, is dishes, dirty ones and lots of them! You would think that dirty dishes would not be a problem given that almost every household has a beloved dishwasher. I mean the mechanical kind not the by-hand kind.

This morning I rose to the kitchen for what seems like the first time all week. With the end of school activities and late night rehearsals, I have not cooked much in the last week, maybe two, it could even be be three . . .So why was I greeted by a sink and counter full of dishes? I did make the girls return all of the cutlery and glasses from their rooms; that accounted for some. I think that Erin has been living on cereal the last week so there were many spoons and bowls. Brooke has had a few late night soirees in the kitchen while studying for AP exams. As I stare at this sculpture of stoneware and metal, I wonder what is wrong with the dishwasher. I discovered, thankfully, nothing! The question then becomes, what is wrong with these kids? I do not understand why it is so difficult to open the door and place the dishes IN the dishwasher rather than on the counter right above it. So close, yet so far.

I started thinking that it seems that every thing these days is marketed toward children and youth. Maybe dishwasher manufacturers need to follow this trend. What could they do to make this basic kitchen appliance more appealing to children?

• Place a sign on it that says "Feed Me, I'm Yours" It's a learning tool. If you can't "feed" the dishwasher, how can you possibly take care of that puppy, kitten, goldfish, or boa constrictor that you want?
• Create a Maytag Mania video game. Points are earned by seeing how many dishes you can get into your virtual dishwasher in the shortest amount of time.
• Perhaps some entrepreneur could manufacture a kitchen cabinet that requires you to deposit a quarter to remove a bowl or plate and another quarter for cutlery, both to be refunded by the dishwasher once these items are placed in it for washing.
• Maybe a talking dishwasher - "Open, Open, Open!"

There has to be a solution. Just saying, "Would you PLEASE put your dirty dishes in the dishwasher" seems to have little appeal or impact.

This musing came to me while I wash hand washing the dishes that were left after I had crammed the dishwasher as full as possible while still having some hope that everything would come out clean. Thankfully, there is something calming in washing dishes by hand. Perhaps it has to do with if my hands are occupied by warm water and suds, I can't wring their necks!

I am sure that I will continue to be amazed by the endless possibilities in the "installation kitchen art" that I find on the counter. I am also confident that the "cereal killers" will continue to do nothing to hide the evidence. So, i will try to not get angry and hope that washing by hand continues to keep me calm!

Shelf Life

This is the first full week of summer vacation for me. I should be relaxing and figuring out how I will spend the endless summer days - how late can I sleep? What books will I read? What knitting projects will I work on? How late will I sleep? What new recipes can I try? Did I mention, How late can I sleep? Unfortunately, this is fantasy land. Instead, I am frantically trying to make my house sanitary before my dad comes for Brooke's graduation. And then there is all the stuff surrounding graduation - senior awards night (Brooke received several honors, one of which was "Outstanding Biology Student". I told her that I assumed that this meant that she now knows where babies come from and she won't be having one any time soon!) Tomorrow night, the school district is honoring the top five from the graduating class of each of the three high schools. It is nice to be recognized, but does it have to be right now! Oh, if you read a few weeks ago, I said that Brooke had worked very hard not to be valedictorian or salutatorian because she did not want to give a speech. Well, she is salutatorian. But, there are co-valedictorians so she will not have to speak. Lucky her - she gets to have her cake and it it too! (Yikes, a cliche. I hate it when I do that!)

On top of all this, Laramie Project opens this weekend. My head spinning is the only energy I have right now!

The Biggest sanitation effort that I have accomplished this week is in my office. The drafts of the most recent issue of Spirit of Knitting have made their way to the recycle bin, this semester's handouts, etc. have been filed, my desk has been cleared. Perhaps the most overwhelming part of all this was addressing the huge stacks of books piled on the floor, the likes of which could have buried Harley alive! They were stacked on the floor because the shelves were already double stacked. Clearing the floor meant a firsthand encounter with the shelf life..

SOme of the species would have to go. This was surprisingly easy. I started with the shelf labeled "brain candy". The murder mysteries that I have already read went first. One shelf gained. With BK's help, I made my way across several more shelves, filling nine boxes (all that I had) before quitting. Don't applaud yet; the job is not completely done. It is, however, done enough to get all the books off the floor with room to spare.

Most of the books that I parted with fall into the broad category of "spirituality". Many of them I bought in preparation for teaching specific Christian Ed classes. I now have taught the classes and have the notes. The books can go. Others I have read and will not reread. And then there were the "what were you thinking" books. With some of these books, I read the title (Hmmm), read the jacket description (and this is interesting because . . ), and tossed it in the "to go" box. I honestly wonder what I was thinking when I bought them. The funny thing is that of all the books that fell in this category, I don't even remember buying most of them. Scary thought. It does suggest that I should exercise a bit more restraint when I visit the bookstore.

Seriously, I did step back and ask myself why I was ready to part with so many books on spirituality. Many of them focused on building a better spiritual life through . . .(insert topic of choice here). What I came to realize is that over time I have amassed a rather extensive arsenal of tools for getting to know God. Now, I need to use them. One can have all the resources in the world but if they sit quietly in the closet of our mind, they are useless. I think that this is where I find myself right now.

Much of the newly acquired space on the shelves was filled with poetry books that have been residing, not so comfortably, on the floor. I love poetry. I think reading poetry is one of the most spiritual acts in which one, I, can engage. I don't want all the how-to books anymore; I want the real thing. And, I have it at my fingertips - literally. I can see and find whichever book I want because my office is now sanitary! All this has led me into a brief foray into summer fantasy land - I now know that I will read lots of poetry as soon as all the craziness has passed!

The books that have been weeded will be taken to the recycled bookstore. I don't even want to think about the amount of money I spent on them. I also don't want to think about how little of it I will get back from the bookstore. Oh well, anything is better than nothing in this case. Hopefully someone will enjoy and benefit from them. I have to trust that eventually they will end up in the right hands.

Onward I go in the cleaning process. I think that I probably should change the linens on the guest bed. The mounds of cat hair on the pillow shams are probably not terribly inviting. And, the muddy footprints from the dog who went swimming in the stock pond and then continued his water recreation in the bathtub should also probably disappear.

I have many chores to go before I sleep, but I will keep my promise to myself to read more poetry this summer!

Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day. I think that this is supposed to be one of those sentimental days - one where people buy the real Hallmark cards with the pretty pictures rather than Shoebox or Maxine. I must confess that I am not the sentimental type, especially about Mother's Day. Don't get me wrong; I love my kids and I love being a mother, but those things happen every day, not just on Mother's Day.

I don't have a very good track record for Mother's Day celebrations. Last year I spent the day in bed with a stomach virus. The year before that I spent in the ER with Mike because he had a kidney stone. This year was was not so bad - I cleaned my bathroom. Really cleaned - cleared everything off the counters and scrubbed, disinfected the shower, scrubbed the grout with a toothbrush, washed all the towels and rugs. I love being a mother! Actually, I love it when everything is clean. This is a real treat because it happens so infrequently. It was my gift to myself. Now that the tub is clean I could have a nice soak in the jacuzzi tub. Hmmm . . .

What did my kids give me for Mother's Day? Well, they too cleaned their rooms. Another great gift. I like it when I can walk into their rooms and not trip over a week's worth of dirty laundry or be overcome by the smell of said laundry. Also, all the glasses have been returned to the kitchen! I can have friends over and we do not each have to have a straw and share the same glass. It really is the simple things in life that make me happy. Well, and cookies.

Brooke made me vegan peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. They are REALLY good. Don't let the vegan part worry you. If I didn't tell you they were vegan, you would never know. I promise. I had a few while taking breaks from the scrubbing bubbles. I could probably eat a whole batch but I was good.

Tonight, after finishing folding the laundry, I came for one last cookie. There were only two left. OK, I know that I did not eat more than two or three. I asked Brooke where she had put the rest. We came to the conclusion that Adidas had helped himself. Two problems here: chocolate is bad for dogs and HE ATE MY COOKIES. I guess no one told him it was Mother's Day and he should be nice to me! He seems to have no ill effects from the chocolate.

And the other half of the parental unit? He is in South Africa. The lengths some people will go to to get out of buying a gift. I could just buy my own. Nah, shopping is too much trouble. I'll just buy Brooke some brown sugar so she can make me more cookies. Then I will eat them all before the dog gets to them. Fat and happy - that should work.

On this Mother's Day, I wish you all clean bathrooms and lots of cookies!

This Is Your Brain On Education

I came home from rehearsal last night to find Brooke in front of my computer just staring. It was nearly 11 pm on a Friday night so I was fairly sure it was not the beginning of an all-nighter to finish some paper that "she forgot about." I bravely asked, "What are you doing?" In a most enthusiastic voice she responded, "The University of Chicago Scav Hunt is going on. They have posted pictures and I am looking at this year's list!"

What is the UC Scav Hunt you ask. It is the reason that Brooke is going to Chicago. (During our visit to campus they said in passing that the vegan team had won the hunt a few years previous. That was enough to sell her.) Seriously, the Scav Hunt is probably the most famous UC tradition - it has its own Wikipedia entry. This is not your average scavenger hunt. It is a list of about 300 things compiled by a group of people with some brilliant but very sick minds!

This year's list includes things such as the worst hair on campus, the most disgusting ice cream flavor on earth, proof of your (or some team member's) royal heritage, a prosthetic limb that goes beyond the call of duty, and "Carhenge". These are the easy things. No discipline or hobby is left untouched. This is true for those of us who are fiber artists. We are charged with hyperbolic crocheting and spinning a yarn. To view a complete copy of this year's list and the rules look here. I was hard -pressed to figure out where to begin the search for some of these things.

Doesn't this sound like fun! This is truly a way to fully engage the mind. Yes, it is a sick, twisted, bizarre, mind, but they need exercise too! I would love to have had an educational experience where this was part of the curriculum. How much is learned from such an adventure? OK, some of it may even be useful information! I admire an institution of higher learning that takes pride in such antics rather than trying to hide them.

This time next year, Brooke will be taking part in her first Scav Hunt. What a thing to have to look forward to. As for me, I get to look forward to paying her tuition! Oh well, hopefully it will be a good investment. Where else can I find someone who can get me a tooth fairy carved from a tooth or a chainsaw carving of a chainsaw? The stock market has nothing on the return I will get from my investment in this kid's education!