Monday, February 27, 2017

A Crazy Woman's Guide to the Perfect Day Off

After a busy couple of weeks involving tending a sick grandgirl, fighting off a cold, travel, booth-tending, and grandboy's birthday party, I was glad for a day off with no plans and obligations. Relaxing, however, is not one of my natural gifts. I was determined, though, to recharge my batteries today, and I think I succeeded. Here's the recipe for a perfect day off:
  1. The night before, stay up reading as long as you want. I recommend, say, until 1-1:30am.
  2. Sleep in as late as you want (for me, 9-ish am).
  3. OK, OK, do a tiny bit of work that just has to be done because if you don't, it will bug you all day. Then turn off the computer and don't answer the work phone. 
  4. Watch old episodes of Perry Mason (I am my mother's daughter - she loved her some Perry Mason) or whatever goofy thing lets you sit with feet up in your pjs. 
  5. Order lunch from Uber. Do not leave the house, even for food. No need.
  6. Take an afternoon nap. Just because you can. And it might be raining, so . . . 
  7. Get up just in time to drive to a 90-minute massage. Try to fall asleep on the massage table. 
  8. Go back to watching Perry Masons (did I mention I'm my mother's daughter?) or catch up on Bates Motel. Whatever.
  9. Eat junk food.
  10. Go to bed. 
So there. The perfect day off. Now, back to work tomorrow, you lazy chick!

Wednesday, February 08, 2017


Reading over my scared but hopeful post of January 1st, I realize that I have completely failed to live up to those feathers of hope. Instead, I find myself angry. Tired. Still living in a state of disbelief that we seem to be living in some strange, 19th century alternate universe after November's appalling election results.

What I thought was a pretty solid values system hammered out after the atrocities of two world wars and the civil rights/women's rights/LGBT rights movements of the past fifty years appears to have evaporated.

People shouting in praise God and Jesus and the literal interpretation of the Bible are also shouting in hatred against the poor, the stranger, clean air, food, and water, and the basic health, education, and well-being of fellow human beings. Excuse my scepticism of your personal understanding of living the way of Christ.

Every morning I wake up determined to make the day positive, light-filled. I pledge not to let anything rattle me. Shun the news. Keep things on the sunny side. But it doesn't take long before some word of an unbelievable injustice seeps through an email or phone call or, yes, a social media post, and then my sweetness-and-light plan evaporates.

Despite my stuck-ness, I manage to put up a good front. I get work done. Have a few laughs. Take walks. Read. Plan and carry out stuff. Manage to keep my home clean and stocked with food. But something still has hold of an arm or a leg and keeps me from moving forward, outward, onward.

The only truly unstuck time is when I'm with Liam and Charlotte. They make me laugh and look at things in new, fresh ways. They ask impossible questions with impossible answers. We get messy and tired and artsy and silly together. There's no time to be stuck if really in the moment with funny little kids.

But without them, I find myself in quicksand again. Angry. Unbelieving. Appalled. Despairing.

Folks remind me that love will win in the end, and, yes, I believe that. But in the meantime . . . what? How much damage gets done, how many lives lost and broken in the meantime, before love finally shows up?

So here I am. Stuck.