The importance of lists...

There are times when I need to work though a bit of a writer's block and one way I have of doing this is to make lists of things.   Yesterday I was feeling the pressure of not having enough posts waiting in line to "go live" on my blog, and so the list making began.  Before I tell you what I came up with though, I have to confess that I am a list maker by nature.  I make lists every single day of my life -- or almost every single day.  I make these To Do lists so that I don't forget things, so that I feel productive, and... simply because I love to check items off after they have been accomplished.  I do so love those check-marks. There is little that makes me feel like I have utilized my time well more than a fully x'd out list at day's end.  What can I say?  I know there are many out there who do the same thing -- with their own personal touches. I have asked around. (I even know someone who crosses out the entire line in various colors of magic marker.  She is totally "normal" is all other aspects of her life -- as far as I can tell.)

Anyway -- back to the writer's block list making thing. For some reason I began to focus on peeves yesterday. I worked diligently on making a list of things that annoy me beginning with my compulsion to fold fitted sheets neatly and ending with Kim Jong-un's haircut.  (Oh come on -- you know who I mean. Seriously....)  Have you seen pictures of his wife, by the way?  Ri Sol-ju is really quite cute.  Suddenly I find myself wondering what they talk about at the dinner table. (Talk about walking on egg shells.)   

So -- to refocus and to move away from scary stuff --  here is my list of things that annoy me:

• folding fitted sheets
• everything about the metric system
• that I can never remember how to pronounce nuclear or how to spell prescription 
• that I always have to look up the difference between affect and effect 
• that there is no "x" in espresso
• the way President Obama skips as he deplanes and that he doesn't even hold on to the railings. (Show-off)
• Hillary Clinton's clothing -- style and colors
• Kim Jong-un's haircut.

Please feel free to add some of your favorite annoyances in the comment area or share with me the next time I run into you.  I would love to know....  I would also like to know if you will confess to being one of "us" as far as the actual list making is concerned. It's not a bad thing.  Lists are important.  

Roller Coaster

I have never been able to understand those people who raise their arms in the air and scream in delight when riding a roller coaster.  I actually avoid riding roller coasters, but if I did climb aboard, I would be belted in and hanging on for dear life.  I am a "seat-belted hanger-oner".  I don't like sudden turns and drops; I don't embrace the fear of the unexpected.  I don't think danger is fun. Confession : When my children were young, I lied to them -- telling them that I was unable to ride the scary rides because of an old neck injury.  They turned out very well in spite of this dishonesty.

I suppose that life is like many different carnival rides, but I think it is mostly like a roller coaster.  Life comes at you with a lot of sudden turns and drops in combination with all the fears generated by the unexpected and unknown.  I have to think that everyone experiences these changes in a lifetime.  I have known people who go through life loving these unexpected and the potentially dangerous changes. Some even seek wild adventures, but I have never understood them and have mostly kept my distance from them. I watch from the wings. I watched one such individual all throughout my childhood and into adulthood. He was like the brother I never had.  I watched him for his entire life -- from a distance, of course.  His joy in raising his arms on the downward runs of the coaster frightened me.  All such danger seekers/danger lovers frighten me.  I sometimes wonder why this is.  I wonder if it is a 'bad" thing. Then I figure that I am who I am, so get over it.  It really is okay to be a "seat-belted hanger oner". I am comfortable with it.

So anyway -- I will never drive a race car or climb to the highest peak, but I have learned the satisfaction of raising children who turned into wonderful adults and have enjoyed the pleasures and comfort of a warm home. I will never be famous or discover the cure for cancer, but I have known the special closeness of a sister, the strength of family and the comfort of unconditional love.  I will never fight a bull or parachute out of an airplane, but I have learned the patience of planting gardens, the joy of working with young people, and the deep peace of holding a sleeping grandchild.

Like yours, my roller coaster ride has had its share of sudden turns and drops. In reaction to this I have expended a great deal of energy simplifying my life -- perhaps too much so.  I sometimes wonder if the fear of hurt gets in the way of joy, but I am a happy person -- totally content with the ways things are.  It is what it is.  It is also, in some ways, what I have made it to be. There aren't many things in life that a person can control, but there are a few.

When I worked with young people, we spent some time discussing the ride of life - how one cannot always control or anticipate what comes, but can usually have a say in how to react.  We considered how no one ever fully lives the life he/she intended.   We talked about how the scary turns and drops have a way of challenging us and of evoking the fundamental core of who we are as human beings.  Sometimes the discovery is disappointing.  That, too, is just the way it is... a trip, a fall, an analysis, a start over... as we slowly climb the hill and begin again.   A goal perhaps may be to enjoy as much of the ride as possible - to make the best of of the hard and even of the scary things. Options are sometimes limited, but that's okay too - especially if you have no say in the matter. A sense of humor helps. 

The Cupboard

When my children were small, they sometimes played in a large cupboard that held pots, pans and unwieldy pieces of Tupperware when not otherwise occupied by one or both of them. We called it the fat cupboard. They would empty it out, crawl in there with a dog or two, and enjoy the peace. My daughter especially enjoyed this "secret spot". If I found that she had come up missing and there were pots and lids scattered about -- I had a good idea of where she was.  I just left her there and enjoyed a little break.  It wasn't as if she couldn't get out or anything. The doors opened easily. I figured she was imagining or sorting something out -- both worthwhile activities.

A while back I had a conversation with a friend who had read a column in a magazine about how we sometimes forget to appreciate the ordinary in our lives... that we get caught up in the mundane routine and overlook the special details that really are there in "everyday stuff". She pointed out that it is understandable that we do this.  She spoke of living through and surviving those tumultuous teen years and the uncertain 20's and 30's of our own lives only to watch the struggles of our own kids' tumultuous teens and young adult years...then of how in what seems a brief moment, we find ourselves in our middle age years, sharing in the difficulties of the elder years of parents - if we are still lucky enough to have parents. You get the idea and obviously she had given it some thought.  She suggested that it is sometimes hard, if not impossible, to be fully mindful during routine chores like making beds even if you remember that it is important to appreciate the small things in life, including the satisfaction found in doing even really small jobs well.  She mentioned other special details like quick hugs from grandkids, and kids, finger prints on the frig, puppy nose prints on the front door and being able to sit and read in the afternoon, or to fall asleep, but think you are reading. There are special details in our everyday lives that we miss. Perhaps the peace of a brief quiet time is a part of that.

It is sometimes hard to "see the magic" especially when caught in the midst of what has come to be termed the "sandwich generation" in which lives are caught between the responsibilities of caring for those of the generations on each side of our own.  It's a process, one that people usually survive relatively intact.  They come out at the end of the other side of that tunnel to emerge into a lighter, less heavy place.  It's a nice place to be if you can get there -- if for only a short or interrupted while. Figuratively speak, I am thinking that, from time to time, even as older generation adults, many of us could use a roomy cupboard where everyone would know to leave us alone for a bit so that we can imagine or sort something out -- maybe even consider the special details.  After all, we can always get out and rejoin the fray when we want or have to, and in the meantime, who couldn't use a little quiet peaceful time? It's restorative.  It's not an age related issue.  If we can have a dog we love with us -- all the better.