Friday Already?!

Mornin’ all!  You can see what’s on my mind.  I’ve frittered away another week and it’s Friday and of course I haven’t finished my To Do list.  From yesterday’s goals, it’s an easy pick for what didn’t get done.  Not a bill was paid, not even one.  I am not one of those people who hates paying bills.  I am forever grateful that I have the means to pay my bills, and I feel really accomplished and grown-up and capable when I sit down and pay everyone.  The big hurdle is getting everything together to pay them.  First, I kind of clear a space on my kitchen table.  That’s the same table where I write shopping lists, pile up mail, do some photographs of my products, lay out things that need piecing, and do other art projects.  Once in a blue moon we actually eat there.  Next I collect all the stuff I need:  plain envelopes (for businesses that are too cheap to send you a return envelope), stamps (an assortment of current 41 cents, old 39 cents, and the 2 cent bridges), bills(some scattered around in the house in alternate mail sorting stations), a pen (preferably a Pilot G-2 with blue ink), and a cup of coffee.  Oops, forgot, need my laptop because I pay some of them online.  Damn.  Why did I write out that list?  I’m tired just thinking about it and I cannot get out of it today because guilt is nagging at me. 

Guilt is a chronic theme with me.  I was raised by older parents.  They had six children in two groups.  I was the first child of the second group, which consists of me and my baby sister, the afterthoughts.  There’s almost a ten year gap between groups, which means we got the old parents.  My older sisters were raised by the younger, more current parents, who did not change their parenting techniques one iota to deal with their pair of late offspring.  The old parents taught me to always, ALWAYS work before play, keep a schedule, take pride in my work, do my best, and clean my plate.  When I was in my residency at Johns Hopkins Hospital slaving away day and night and day again (yes, we took call every other night as interns and we went home only when the work was done) I would finish a long two days and make it to the front steps of the hospital and sit down and cry.  Periodically I would call my parents and tell them how awful it was and then I’d get a letter in the mail with a newspaper clipping with some timely topic -“Staying Close to God in Times of Stress” or “How Pro Athletes Train Their Minds and Bodies” or “Rebel Teen Crashes and Burns” and writing on the flap of the envelope that said “WORK HARD”.  You get the picture. 

They may have made that emphasis because they realized that I was a kid who would always question the rules before deciding whether to follow them, and that I would choose the low, brambly road before the high, direct one.  Despite my questioning tendencies and my ability to do other than what my training told me, I still have major pangs of guilt from those synapses made in my childhood.    I am still trying to break those spiderweb-like threads that grab at me.  They don’t have the ability to hold me any more, but they can worry the heck out of me. 

Fortunately I am 50 and have learned some timely lessons.  In my 30s I realized that I’d never reach steady state, life would never smooth out and be calm and predictable, and there would always be a crisis lurking.  In my 40s, after years with lupus, I learned to make my standards comfortably low and really go after the things that had a high priority for me.  So today, I can think about paying bills, realize that it’s only number three or four on my list, and decide that I won’t die or cause world devastation if I put them off another day or two. 

What I’d really rather do today is knit.  And stuff related to knitting.  I want to visit the Yarn Works Inc studio ( and take out the summery stuff that I had there on consignment and replace it with winter stuff.  Yarn Works Inc. is a coop of eight women who have various fiber arts interests.  They have put together a studio that is a wonderful, warm place to shop and learn.  It’s in a rehabbed saddle factory on the Southside of Chattanooga.  You may not realize it, but Chattanooga is acclaimed for our farsighted, comprehensive work in sustainability.  You probably have realized that I am obsessed with documentation, and when I make a claim I’m gonna give you a reference, so here’s a little something to read about Chattanooga and it’s incredible progress in this area:

Okay.  My work here is done.  I’m gonna watch one of my idols, Ellen Degeneres, and knit.



One Response

  1. Hey Girl! I am more and more impressed with you and your ability to articulate. Impressive! You are amazing and the world is fortunate to have you here. Love ya!

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