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Come In, The Water Is Great

I’m committed to practicality this morning. I look around as I sip my morning cup of Joe and ignore the fact that crud is everywhere around my house. Earlier in the weekend I thought about tidying up and then even tried to entice the soon-to-be 16 year old with cold hard cash to take care of the clutter. He didn’t bite and I decided that maybe a quick 10-minute tidy could wait until the end of the weekend.

Usually when my house gets out of control, I start skimming the want ads for a realtor in hopes of packing up my things to move to a spiffier place, one with clean cupboards encased with new vinyl shelf liners and empty closets providing endless storage. But I like our house, even if it is too far from most of what I want to be around. This weekend I have many things distracting me from the clutter. My social plate is full.

Lyle and Russell have been home most of the weekend, and Lyle put on his spandex and grabbed a microphone as he morphed into a full-blown rock star washing the mounds of dirty laundry – even the sheets and blankets. I’d love to come home and find the house tidy, but I need to ante up a little time for those domestic tasks to prove my worth on the home front. Besides, for better or worse, the men in the house don’t mind living in a hovel as long as they can still find the remote, all is good with the world.

I decided to take heed of what I wrote yesterday and simply embrace the little nuggets of goodness I encounter in my journeys. I came home after a great afternoon with friends and looked at the rainy afternoon as good as excuse to play. I sat at my make-shift jewelry bench known to most if you could see beneath the tools and beads and wire as a sewing table circa early 1900s. I made earrings and watched endless episodes of shows via TiVo. The fact that I could fast forward through all the political ads was an even sweeter bonus.

There is always a long list of things that crop up on the weekend, all those chores that get pushed aside during the week because the days are simply too busy, too packed, too many must dos. Instead I focused on one thing –fun. By the time I was ready to crawl between those freshly laundered sheets, I really didn’t care that my counter still needed cleaned and the toilet could use a quick swish with a little bleach. I hadn’t played with beads and wire for a long time and I needed a creative release.

I wasn’t thinking about food or odd jobs or to do lists or responsibilities. Time meandered like a cool gentle brook over rounded pebbles through the woods coming from who knows where and going perhaps nowhere. It was good, really good.

As I search for some of that deeper meaning, last night reminded me that it is not enough to simply stop and admire the stream from water’s edge; I must dip my toes in and let it ramble over me.

Today will soon turn to evening, quicker than I prefer, but if I live it, oppose to watch it, perhaps that will be o.k. too. How do you like to spend your time, but more importantly how often do you actually follow through with it?


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