All in a Day's Work

We made homemade noodles for dinner. They weren't perfect, but they were delicious. The kids slurped up every last one on their plates. I overate, but that's to be expected. Homemade carbs are my kryptonite. Store-bought carbs are my addiction, and Amish carbs are my Nirvana. (Just in case you're keeping score at home.)

Max came home from school announcing that he was going to write a book and have it published. He made it sound so easy. He got out paper and crayons and began his memoir on the kitchen floor. He was really prolific for about twenty minutes and I made a mental note to plop myself in the same spot the next time I'm struck with writer's block.

Earlier in the day, I wrangled Ryan into taking a walk with me. He was outside talking on the phone. I did sign language, two little walking fingers, inviting him to come along. He preferred to change his clothes and have lunch first, but I was determined to walk right then, so walk we did. At the end of the walk, when he was sweaty in his nice clothes, he pointed out that sometimes I get an idea in my head and there's no changing it. And that character trait? Well, he said, it can be kind of aggravating.

I had an idea in my head that he was wrong about that, but I didn't argue it for long because I started getting a new idea in my head that he was probably right. The only thing I enjoy more than having a plan is sticking to the plan. Even if I don't actually like the plan, I still have a yearning to stick to it. Right then I made a new plan to stop sticking to arbitrary plans.

Time out. I love the word arbitrary. If I had a daughter I would name her Arbitrary.

Time in.

I chipped away at more work, writing another catalog, and rewarding myself along the way for small accomplishments. My rewards were: eating a cookie, peeing, changing the load of laundry, showering, and snapping a photo to determine if my necklace was working with my shirt.

After dinner, I was back at my computer--plink, plink, plink, silence, silence, silence, plink, silence, plink--when Ryan walked in wearing his shorts and walking shoes. He asked if I wanted to take another walk. I actually had a plan to finish the paragraph I was working on, but I got up and went for a walk anyway because I'm all about sticking to my new plan to be flexible. When we got back, the paragraph was waiting right where I left it.

Plink, plink, plink, silence, silence. Plink.

The kids are in bed now. The dog is asleep at my feet. I rewarded myself for another completed catalog page with a few minutes to blog. I was hoping to be done with the catalog by now, but I'm not. Perhaps I need a crayon and a few minutes on the kitchen floor.