This morning I heard an egg start to roll, spun around and caught it as it fell off the counter to the ground.
I was super proud. It was a total ninja move. My cat-like reflexes combined with super fast deductive reasoning as I both identified the sound and the location the egg was headed, all without looking and in time for me to catch it.
No eggs were harmed in the reproduction of this epic event.
It wasn’t just a ninja move. It was a Sherlock Holmes style deduction followed by ninja skills.
A Sherlock ninja move.
Then I went to make my bed.
And in heaving all four blankets up in the air at one time to straighten them (Sorry Granny, just because I know how to make the bed the right way doesn’t mean I do) I banged my shin on the bed frame hard enough that I pitched forward and landed face first on the bed, not even catching myself with my hands because they were still gripping the blankets as I yowled out loud from the pain in my now bruised shin.
Oh how the mighty fall.
I have handsome boys…
…but I’m starting to get the impression they are getting fed up with all the picture taking I’ve been doing.
A Friday ritual.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
My cousin and I offered to organize, host and cook the turkeys for our families Thanksgiving dinner. You know, just a nice cozy dinner for 46.
There was a bit of an incident with a dead mouse in the guts of the oven cause an epic stink but it was basically fine.
Once the house had throughly aired no one even gagged when they walked in and that forty pounds of turkey tasted great despite the fact that the oven was unplugged, moved, disassembled attempted to be de-moused, reassembled and plugged back in all while the turkey was cooking.
But really what’s a Thanksgiving dinner without a good story.
The players have changed through the years. The games have changed through the years. But the ever present theme at family gatherings is that there is a game played by the wildest, most raucous players possible…
…and their laughter washes over the house in a crazy tidal wave to another game.
The game played by the quiet serious crowd.
From Pictionary to Secret Hitler and Scrabble to Sheepshead the games change, the players change but the family gatherings stay the same.
May the family and friends around the table bring you as much joy as the table brings to those hiding under it.
Where do you keep your life?
Not the living, breathing, soul part (I’m not feeling that philosophical today) but the organizational part.
I know more and more people who keep it all on their phone. Personally I find this horrifying for a many reasons like…
- What if it spontaneously malfunctions?
- What if I break it?
- What if I lose it?
- What if I drop it on a gravel path and the screen shatters? (True story)
- What if I run it over with an F250? (True story)
- What if I jump in a lake to save my kid with it in my pocket? (True story)
- What if I forget it?
Instead I currently keep my life in a red notebook.
- Notes about what to talk about at an author program.
- To-do lists for marketing a picture book.
- To-do lists for writing a picture book.
- To-do lists for managing a capoeira group.
- Things to prepare for Thanksgiving.
- Three months of who’s spending which weekend with Granny.
- Notes from a meeting with publisher and illustrator.
- Notes from talking with stores about carrying my book.
- Notes from talking with schools about doing capoeira demos.
- E-mail addresses.
- Blog post ideas.
- To-do lists for the poultry
- To-do lists for the week.
- Things to remember. (That’s a good catch-all page)
- Lists of butterfly houses and exhibits in the Midwest.
- Lists of favorite winter/snow books.
- And notes on how to plan and serve Thanksgiving dinner to 45.
And no, while bullet journaling sounds great in theory, that’s not a thing I do.
I am not unaware that while this is a system, it is possible it’s not the best system. It also occurs to me that a red notebook is just as prone to flood, fire and forgetting as a phone. But, for all I write on the computer and share documents over google drive and set things up in shared calendars, there is a perceived permanence to writing things down in my own messy, illegible, misspelled handwriting that I’m reluctant to give up. It’s as though in my mind a to-do list isn’t a to-do list if it’s not written at two different angles with big bold scribbles when something is crossed off.
I keep my life in a red notebook. Where do you keep yours?