lists

Too Much, Too Many

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I have too much I want to do and too many things on my list.  It’s not a bucket list or a chore list really.  But, dozens of reminders of things I want to try to cook, try to make, try to learn about.  Too many lists of too many things and am unable to figure out where to start most days.  I confess I have completed a few things on the latest compilation of lists.  I have simply marked through some other things to eliminate them rather deal with them.

I have multiple notebooks full of lists.  My hobby seems to be making lists.  I have ideas, I read about things, I get an interest in something and it goes on my lists.  The problem is that some things never get off the list.  Many of the items are not really things to do, but reminders of how to act or think as habitual behaviors.  Some are simply maxims to try to live by.  There are items to buy, books to read, menus to cook, crafts to create, places to visit, people to see, questions to ask. 

I get aggravated with it because I want to get it all done and then again, I don’t want to feel compelled to get it all done.  I have a significant problem with making up my mind.  Deciding a course and sticking to it through to completion. 

Here’s the comical part I am dealing with recently.  I have a tablet full of notes and also a wonderful agenda notebook gifted to me by our son and his bride.  I have a section in the agenda, six plus pages, where I have made a list of things. I am considering getting yet another notebook and trying to sort the list into categorized lists.  It wouldn’t be the first time to try that.  One excuse I have made to myself for being less organized with this aspect of my existence is that I can’t find the right notebook or organizing tool.  And I can’t decide on what to write with.  And I don’t know if I should include all the previous books of lists when I do take on the task.  This is all very ridiculous and very personal. Some people collect stamps or follow college sports.  I collect tidbits of notions and make lists of them.

I have seen the bullet journal concept.  I have avoided it. For a lister like me, that kind of project could either be a deeper, darker obsession or could push me to the brink of exhaustion.  And I always see the journals with all the decorated pages as being frivolous and time consuming.  It may end up on the table after all.  Along with art journaling or a “smash book” I think may be the current term, perhaps I could slow the chasing thoughts and tame the lists.  I know for a fact there are far too many duplicate entries over the scope of all my notebooks.  What if I could make one big beautiful book to hold all my lists? 

I think I may be going over the edge.  I am either going crazy or going creative.  To me both feel the same. 

Enough of this nonsense.  I needed to write Orchids.  I haven’t been consistent the last few weeks.  Now I know why.  Too much nonsense chasing around my brain.  Too many thoughts jumbled up in there. 

Forgetting

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I had a sign on my icebox for a long while a long while back. I still keep the saying close at hand, though for some reason other things crowded it from the icebox front. 

 It reads:

What really important thing are you forgetting to do?

I ask that question on many different levels.  Did I pay the fuel card bills?  Did I ask him to check the propane tank level?  Did I ask the Lord forgiveness for my recent failures of character?  Did I put water in the dog’s bowl? Am I sure I checked all the supply levels for baking Christmas cookies?

From trivial to profound and back to trivial.

One question that haunts me was asked me on the day we buried Mother.  What are you going to do with the rest of your life?  At the time, all I could think of was raising the children.  At ages 10 (nearly 11) and 12, things were just taking off.  And my father was still living and needed assistance.  The Butler sale launched that year as well.  The question didn’t mean much for a long time. 

A few years later, the children were grown and Daddy and his mother and his father, too.  From September 2003 through April 2007, there was a lot of leaving for us.  We also lost a dear friend during that time.  And Hurricane Rita blew through.  We got down to just having our jobs and the cows for the most part.

Eventually, the children married and finally a couple of duchesses came along to add glitter sparkle to our lives. Figuratively and literally! 

Still, there are some long days of not much going on.  I have been retired just past a year. He is still working.  The duchesses are too far to come and go on a regular basis.  I have some hobbies I have dabbled in through the years. I am so accustomed to not having time to really dig deep on them, I still just dabble. 

I am forgetting to dig deep.

I love to plan things.  Have my tidy little lists of things.  I passed that trait on to our son.  I have notebooks of lists.  I have spent my idle hours for thirty years making lists.  What do I list?  I have a list of plants I want for the jungle garden.  I have lists of household supplies I use so I can try to make a more efficient shopping list.  I have lists of my favorite foods.  I have a list of songs I like.  I have a list of books to read and authors whose works I want to read.  I have a list of topics for essays to write.  I spend more time and energy on my lists instead of attending the things on the lists. 

I love to sort things.  An offshoot of listing or the listing is an offshoot of sorting.  I will sort and reorganize my closets and pantries several times through the year.  I haul off stuff to the Salvation Army or bag it up for some of the teen girls at church or a friend I know would love it. I pass through the thrift store and get some more things and then go through the sifting process again.  I thought for a while I was off my rocker. 

When I look around my house, I see the results of the process.  I have several areas that show my love of tropical things.  I have book cases full of a full range of topics.  I have lovely dishes to use every day.  The walls have several original pieces of amateur art.  Some is my even my own work.  I have a modest collection of evening bags of which I plan to start using for everyday as soon as I can get my load of things I think I need to haul around with me pared down to fit.  I hear several of my besties reading this and cackling with laughter over that remark.  And he just rolled his eyes.  One of the things I get called is bag lady.  I still consider it a lofty goal to achieve.  Maybe beyond my scope. Nevertheless…….. 

I am getting better though.  I have been taking the time to read.  And yesterday, I took time to watch one of the movies on my movies to watch list.  I put in a new flower bed this summer.  I have the photos on the table and have begun the sorting process to make a photo album. (This is from the days of film style cameras.)  I have a number of digital photos I want to print and put in the album eventually.  I make time to spend with my friends and my family.  I am terrible at calling to check on folks.  I hate talking on the phone.  I would rather see someone face to face. I text painfully slow.  (I did learn how to talk to text and my phone seems to understand my accent.)  I go with him to check the cows most times. 

Nothing profound.  Just ordinary living. Working on not forgetting the really important things.  Time with him, time with the offspring, time with friends, time with my own creative muse.   Mundane things in a quiet house on a dusty dead end lane in the boondocks of Southeast Texas.