It was a good day; not overly productive or radical but good. And spent with good people, having good conversations, playing hard and also hanging out. We played with the kids at lunch after bringing Starbucks to the adults. It was funniest sight I’ve seen in awhile. As we came through the double doors, everyone greeted us as if we were celebrities. Everyone (literally adults and children) were jumping up and down, shouting as we walked in presenting our drinks and hugs upon the "commoners." Oh my! But we all enjoyed the simple pleasures in life, a little caramel macchiato and game of basketball with the out-of-control auntie. I loved it for sure, the playing. I felt the adults' gratitude as well, but they wouldn't have appreciated my "small dog locked up in a cage for a long time" energy so we were both happy with me in the midst of children, lots of flying balls, and walls to bounce off. I appreciated and giggled at the welcome from everyone, though. A welcome like that every time I entered a room would be exciting for sure. For about a day or two, and then I’d send my stunt double!
I worked out at Cardinal Fitness tonight which was quick but excellent. It felt quick even though I was on the elliptical for 35 minutes (a treat in the random world of touring). My new book helped and so did the energy that I just couldn’t get rid of. The structure of the fitness center gave me the impression that I was one of the monkeys making sure the earth kept spinning. There were literally 25 machines lined up in each of 4 rows, all of them in use. A constant whirr and grind filled the air with the musty smell of hard work and sweat. I thought like we should be trying to generate a new kind of renewable energy. What a strange way to "mature!" We start with free, spontaneous running, bouncing around, laughing, and spinning in circles as a child and move to the drone of electronic machines that time our efforts and track progress, not in the increase of the spirit’s and psyche’s morale but rather in calories lost, the never-ending numbers game. Thankfully, I can have both, and more of the former. More than that, I have enough warm clothes to run outside under the blue sky tomorrow morning. And why not? My stunt double will be going to the fitness center to keep my girlish figure.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
reduce bad habits, reuse the good
I woke up in plenty of time to accomplish the morning activities: devote, work-out, shower, pack and eat. In fact, ample time was given for all of these projects since I woke up 31 minutes before my alarm. I love head starts in the morning. Given that these extra 30ish minutes were available to me and the fact that I haven’t worked-out in a few sluggish days, I dedicated the extra moments to the gym. Wow- it was great, the morning was alive, my heart was beating, my endorphins were racing.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that I scheduled our departure 30 minutes later in my head than verbally announced. Therefore, finishing in the gym, gross and sweaty (nothing new though the Louisiana humidity added it’s layer) at 10am, departure time, did not jive with the activities that remained to be done, most significantly packing, showering, and eating. Oops!
The oops impacted more than just the obvious subjects, ie the rest of the crew, my stomach from hunger, and my heart rate which was already high. My hurried last moments impacted the earth. For the first time in a while I used 5 towels. I used 2 little ones while I lifted and ran, but in my haste to get back to the room, I grabbed another one mopped my forehead before showering. Had I been at normal pace and thinking rate, I would have gone to my room casually with a shower to look forward to. Instead, I grabbed one towel to mop off the sweat so I could run around like a chicken with no head, apologizing for my tardiness, packing my bags, checking the weather and forgetting the shower was the first and most important step to being in the car soon. Finally, I rushed, washed and rinsed only to grab another towel and also use a superfluous towel on the ground when the big one from the gym would have been sufficient. Oh my, I was out of control.
As I stay in hotels every night for the next 3 months, I’m very aware of the linens I use. I follow hotel’s directions so they won’t wash my towels, but inevitably they take them. The small imprint I have everyday with a new towel that then has to be washed, dried, folded, and redistributed is quite astounding to me. Today’s events created 200% more laundry for me than normal. That’s 3 more towels that had to be washed that could have remained well prepared for the next guest. Likewise, soap is necessary, but how much do I go through for every hotel? I could have a pound of soap by the end of tour for all the small bars I open everyday.
Now, I might be exaggerating like an overzealous tree-hugger, but my point is this: under the pressure and fire of time and need for accomplishment, I resorted to bad habits that can have significant impact. Had I not rushed, I might have used fewer towels or not opened another soap. As I rushed out of the room, I left my empty water bottle that could have been refilled. It’s easy to live carelessly when I’m surrounded by abundance, but I’m doing my best to remember that I am richly blessed and one of the lucky few. Such abundance and material wealth surrounds me in America and habits of waste, indifference about the long term impact of my actions, and drive to meet selfish needs often become my default. But with a bit of discipline these habits can change. It will take some breaking, sacrificing, and slower living to be able to fall back on them when under pressure.
I wonder what else in my life could use some intentional reprogramming in order for good habits to be the default habits, especially in the fire. Positive thinking and encouragement? Forgiveness over grudges? Hope and possibility before pessimism or doubt? Changing my habits for the earth will be tricky at times, but the physical actions will be tangible reminders. These other areas of clean-up require more than a planted tree or recycled plastic bottle. A fire in side will refine them into a heart of precious metal. I won’t be recycling that.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that I scheduled our departure 30 minutes later in my head than verbally announced. Therefore, finishing in the gym, gross and sweaty (nothing new though the Louisiana humidity added it’s layer) at 10am, departure time, did not jive with the activities that remained to be done, most significantly packing, showering, and eating. Oops!
The oops impacted more than just the obvious subjects, ie the rest of the crew, my stomach from hunger, and my heart rate which was already high. My hurried last moments impacted the earth. For the first time in a while I used 5 towels. I used 2 little ones while I lifted and ran, but in my haste to get back to the room, I grabbed another one mopped my forehead before showering. Had I been at normal pace and thinking rate, I would have gone to my room casually with a shower to look forward to. Instead, I grabbed one towel to mop off the sweat so I could run around like a chicken with no head, apologizing for my tardiness, packing my bags, checking the weather and forgetting the shower was the first and most important step to being in the car soon. Finally, I rushed, washed and rinsed only to grab another towel and also use a superfluous towel on the ground when the big one from the gym would have been sufficient. Oh my, I was out of control.
As I stay in hotels every night for the next 3 months, I’m very aware of the linens I use. I follow hotel’s directions so they won’t wash my towels, but inevitably they take them. The small imprint I have everyday with a new towel that then has to be washed, dried, folded, and redistributed is quite astounding to me. Today’s events created 200% more laundry for me than normal. That’s 3 more towels that had to be washed that could have remained well prepared for the next guest. Likewise, soap is necessary, but how much do I go through for every hotel? I could have a pound of soap by the end of tour for all the small bars I open everyday.
Now, I might be exaggerating like an overzealous tree-hugger, but my point is this: under the pressure and fire of time and need for accomplishment, I resorted to bad habits that can have significant impact. Had I not rushed, I might have used fewer towels or not opened another soap. As I rushed out of the room, I left my empty water bottle that could have been refilled. It’s easy to live carelessly when I’m surrounded by abundance, but I’m doing my best to remember that I am richly blessed and one of the lucky few. Such abundance and material wealth surrounds me in America and habits of waste, indifference about the long term impact of my actions, and drive to meet selfish needs often become my default. But with a bit of discipline these habits can change. It will take some breaking, sacrificing, and slower living to be able to fall back on them when under pressure.
I wonder what else in my life could use some intentional reprogramming in order for good habits to be the default habits, especially in the fire. Positive thinking and encouragement? Forgiveness over grudges? Hope and possibility before pessimism or doubt? Changing my habits for the earth will be tricky at times, but the physical actions will be tangible reminders. These other areas of clean-up require more than a planted tree or recycled plastic bottle. A fire in side will refine them into a heart of precious metal. I won’t be recycling that.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
on paper, finally
What is that voice that finally tells me to do something and I do it? I’ve heard the voice before, or the words at least, but maybe in a different tone or accent, in an inopportune moment or circumstance, or by the wrong (though really right) person. No matter how many times the voice calls out, the answer is no. Not today. And tomorrow doesn’t look good either.
Such is my case as a writer as of late. Voices, thoughts, even great topics have knocked around in my head, but between the unwillingness of my brain to commit to a story and fingers unable to do type without that grey matter-of-fact, the page remains empty. At least until tonight, when once again I heard the voice and somehow tricked my brain into moving forward with the task, delightful and uplifting as it is. Were the voices louder, more persuasive, extra flirtatious, more demanding this time? No, but I think in the end, the “Not Today” comment was too boringly predictable.
“What transpires on the page might be pure rubbish, but at least it’s new rubbish,” thinks my heart and fingers. “One can at least wrap fish in it tomorrow if nothing else. For the last couple weeks, the sardines are out loose, smelling up the joint.” (Man alive- if my insides really mutiny against me over sardines and newspaper, I need to have a chat with them…Wait, I might have just admitted I’m schizophrenic. Shh…don’t tell.) So anyway, here’s my attempt at poetics, prose, piffle and poppycock.
The last days are a mix of Sudafed, hard workers, long drives, and sweet tea. The latter explains that we are in the south, the deep south. I’m a Northerner as one can tell by the half and half mix of sweet and unsweet tea I order. (Often times the ratio is more 3:1 or half and half until it becomes half and half and half water. Do the math.) All that to say, it’s a new vice and one I’m taking full advantage of as it’s preferable taste means too things: 1) We’re not in the south too much longer. 2) It’s warm enough to NEED ice tea.
The Sudafed would explain a little bit about the current drink of choice for the kids as they have all come down with something nasty. Coughing, sneezing, puking, running the nose faucet, all of it. Of course, many of the adults had it first, so I’m hoping as we travel north in the next couple weeks the bacteria will stay south for the winter. Despite their condition the kids have really surprised me on stage with their quick and wise choices, adlibbing without any sort of prompting (As in, I don’t think they know the word, they just know that silence or missing a beat is not in their vocabulary.) I say in my head, “Oh dear” only to respond with, “Good Job!” (Again, not talking to myself. Shh…)
The venues have also supplied good rounds of wise, hard workers that are making life easy-going. Dayna in Gainesville, FL replaced a zipper for me which might have taken me a few days to finally get to doing. John kept his team in line when other distractions could have created tensions and laziness. (Plus, he called me Miss Sarah.) Coop will forever be my brain as the big black brother who sweated to make sure everything I needed done was done. And nothing like the cast of Wayne’s World to make sure everything was EXCELLENT.
But more than anything, the last couple weeks are the just the beginning of a few more months of driving forever. I couldn’t ask for a better bunch of folks to drive me, “Miss Daisy.” I can read and nap or get behind the wheel and play DJ. All and all we’re doing well, toolin’ along from state to state, time zone to time zone, podcast to podcast.
Trash or Treasure, hard to say. But at least it’s down on paper. No voices to get me now except that of the sheep wanting to jump into my sleep.
Such is my case as a writer as of late. Voices, thoughts, even great topics have knocked around in my head, but between the unwillingness of my brain to commit to a story and fingers unable to do type without that grey matter-of-fact, the page remains empty. At least until tonight, when once again I heard the voice and somehow tricked my brain into moving forward with the task, delightful and uplifting as it is. Were the voices louder, more persuasive, extra flirtatious, more demanding this time? No, but I think in the end, the “Not Today” comment was too boringly predictable.
“What transpires on the page might be pure rubbish, but at least it’s new rubbish,” thinks my heart and fingers. “One can at least wrap fish in it tomorrow if nothing else. For the last couple weeks, the sardines are out loose, smelling up the joint.” (Man alive- if my insides really mutiny against me over sardines and newspaper, I need to have a chat with them…Wait, I might have just admitted I’m schizophrenic. Shh…don’t tell.) So anyway, here’s my attempt at poetics, prose, piffle and poppycock.
The last days are a mix of Sudafed, hard workers, long drives, and sweet tea. The latter explains that we are in the south, the deep south. I’m a Northerner as one can tell by the half and half mix of sweet and unsweet tea I order. (Often times the ratio is more 3:1 or half and half until it becomes half and half and half water. Do the math.) All that to say, it’s a new vice and one I’m taking full advantage of as it’s preferable taste means too things: 1) We’re not in the south too much longer. 2) It’s warm enough to NEED ice tea.
The Sudafed would explain a little bit about the current drink of choice for the kids as they have all come down with something nasty. Coughing, sneezing, puking, running the nose faucet, all of it. Of course, many of the adults had it first, so I’m hoping as we travel north in the next couple weeks the bacteria will stay south for the winter. Despite their condition the kids have really surprised me on stage with their quick and wise choices, adlibbing without any sort of prompting (As in, I don’t think they know the word, they just know that silence or missing a beat is not in their vocabulary.) I say in my head, “Oh dear” only to respond with, “Good Job!” (Again, not talking to myself. Shh…)
The venues have also supplied good rounds of wise, hard workers that are making life easy-going. Dayna in Gainesville, FL replaced a zipper for me which might have taken me a few days to finally get to doing. John kept his team in line when other distractions could have created tensions and laziness. (Plus, he called me Miss Sarah.) Coop will forever be my brain as the big black brother who sweated to make sure everything I needed done was done. And nothing like the cast of Wayne’s World to make sure everything was EXCELLENT.
But more than anything, the last couple weeks are the just the beginning of a few more months of driving forever. I couldn’t ask for a better bunch of folks to drive me, “Miss Daisy.” I can read and nap or get behind the wheel and play DJ. All and all we’re doing well, toolin’ along from state to state, time zone to time zone, podcast to podcast.
Trash or Treasure, hard to say. But at least it’s down on paper. No voices to get me now except that of the sheep wanting to jump into my sleep.
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