Rediscovery

 I am a wannabe artist. I don't want to paint or draw still lifes (lives?). I just want to be a good doodler. I'd like to be able to sketch everyday objects just for fun, to liven up the margins of otherwise dull notes, or to  create little doodles related to the material that illuminate key topics.

Yesterday, I was reminded of my forays into life as an artistic doodler and sketch noter. I opened a drawer to look for a specific notebook and uncovered my archives, the most impressive of which  was a collection of three sketchbooks full of sketchnotes, something I made a daily habit several years ago. Although at the time, I'm sure my perceived errors and missteps were what jumped out at me, yesterday's assessment was that they were pretty good. This was followed immediately by a second thought. 

Why did I stop?

Although the simple answer is that other things got in the way, the truth is more nuanced. I recall getting bored by the nudge to create daily and overwhelmed by the blank page. Then there was technology, mostly in the form of games, always ready to fill the void, while promising to demand so little from me. 

At one point, I moved to a focus on lettering -- I uncovered the books to prove it, right beside those sketchnote sketchbooks. That fell by the wayside even faster than the sketchnoting. I had a brief flirtation with coloring in small, quick hit coloring books, but that didn't really take. From there, I moved on to collages, playing with shapes and colors and words in a different form. That, like the sketchnoting, is something that I still enjoy.

While a part of me is annoyed with myself for dropping the ball, so to speak, I know the fullness of life made other pursuits (and people) rise to the surface. Once I stopped chiding myself, I realized what a gift these pursuits have been. Along with my writing, these forms of creative expression have been not just entertaining, but have helped me embrace creativity in a variety of different ways. 

Stumbling across this treasure trove a few weeks before a milestone birthday nudged me to start a list. Retirement is on the horizon and while I absolutely do NOT want to create a retirement to-do list, I do want to remind myself of some of the things I might want to pursue again and why. I'm sure the list will evolve quite a bit and in many different ways over the next year, and I'm also sure that opening a drawer or a box and re-discovering something will continue to remind me of past pursuits, and to determine whether or not they have a future with me. Maybe I'll even give each of these hobbies a box of its own, stacking them all together neatly as a sort of three-dimensional menu from which I can choose. 

Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out where these pen-and-paper pursuits fit into my technology balancing act. They certainly pose a more creative alternative than the games I habitually open.

One thing that's definitely on my retirement list (as well as my everyday list) is going through all the accumulated stuff in our house, which includes opening up the drawers and cabinets that haven't yet hit my re-organizing radar. 

I can hardly wait to see what I'll find.

    

Image by Sunrise from Pixabay

Staycation Time

 We got back from a week at the beach two nights ago and I'm still putting the house in order. Part of that is simply the way I work -- tackling unpleasant tasks a little at a time, part of it is the fact that July is rapidly coming to a close and I am seizing moments wherever I can, and part of it is that the house never got fully "back together" after the chaos of having our master bedroom repainted (again -- a casualty of the way I work, and the domino effect that comes with rearranging things in a small house). Meanwhile, my daughter is also home and, given the choice of spending time with her and working on the house, I choose the former. 

Even before our vacation, I decided that some staycation days were in order. Time was flying by and I was afraid I'd wake up on the first day of school wondering where summer had gone, and desperately needing the respite I didn't quite manage to eke out. I typically shift into school prep mode when I flip the calendar to August but, looking ahead, the days between now and the start of school are quickly filling with tasks, appointments, travel, and other obligations. Many of these events will be fun, but too many crammed into the calendar won't allow me the breather I need before I dive into fall semester. 

Enter my magic pencil, crossing out days between now and the end of August, declaring them off-limits to appointments and, quite frankly, anything I don't want to do. These are days during which I'll (theoretically) have the house to myself, days I can amble through at my pace, tackling the "want-to-do" list instead of the "have-to-do" list -- y'know -- a summer attitude. While some of must-do items will likely get accomplished during those days, the sense that I have a choice in the matter makes all the difference in how I feel.

Over vacation, I was reminded that productivity is relaxing for me. I enjoy a sense of accomplishment and it's only when my routine is disrupted that I realize how much I value a certain amount of predictability as well. I don't need to be running and checking things off 24/7 -- quite the opposite, actually -- I just need to finish the day feeling as though I've done something worthwhile. On vacation, that can be something restorative, like sitting on the beach reading a magazine, or it can be something practical, like watching the next video in a class I signed up for, or restoring order to the space we're temporarily calling home. 

Staycation days give me the opportunity to float between restorative and practical and having those days on the calendar reminds me that, when things get overwhelming, there's a respite waiting just around the corner. Powering through the must-do list before those days arrive gives me permission to set those tasks aside for a day here or there, should I choose to do so.

The older I get, the more I realize that vacation is a state of mind. We can be in the most beautiful setting but, if we're tethered to our phones and working against what feels right to us, we might as well be in a laundry room somewhere sorting through socks and underwear. With the right frame of mind, we can vacation anywhere by choosing to restore our sense of peace and well-being and engaging in pursuits that make us and our days a little bit brighter. 

August may be just around the corner, but my road to the end of summer is peppered with staycation days.

Be Careful What You Wish For

 I'm not good at doing nothing and, to be honest, that scares me a little. On the cusp of retirement, I'm feeing as though this is a bit of a "be careful what you wish for" scenario. What will I do when my days no longer have the structure to which I've become accustomed?

Right now, life is often overwhelming. There are too many things to do, too many deadlines, and I find myself longing for a stretch of time to fill in any way I please. So, you'd think a vacation would provide just that.

But here I am, with no pressing deadlines and no looming to-do list, at the loosest of loose ends. When my husband tries to fill the days with activities, I push back, not wanting to overplan this gift of time. But when left to my own devices, I sometimes freeze, unsure of what exactly I want to do. I move from one thing to another, never alighting on any task for long before I'm displaced by dissatisfaction.

Such a rough life, right? 

As it turns out, the balance of routine, productivity, freedom, and flexibility is tricky. Some days call for a lot of one at the expense of the others, while others demand a mysterious mélange that reveals itself only as we move from one thing to another. Change the location, the players, and the expectations and everything shifts, often in a very unpredictable manner that leaves us feeling adrift and maybe even a little grumpy, no matter how beautiful or inviting the environment. 

As I was typing this, I looked around our rented beach digs and all I saw was chaos. Immediately, I had a task -- something I could control. The combination of productivity and the almost instantaneous appearance of clear space gave me the satisfaction and sense of peace that had been eluding me. 

Mysterious mélange indeed. 

I don't know what my post-retirement routine will look like -- I don't even know what the next three days will look like! But I do know that a key ingredient in finding a new normal, whether for a week at the beach or the rest of my life will require a key ingredient I sometimes find in short supply.

Patience. 

Wish me luck.

Cat image (from a decidedly non-cat person because I'm allergic) matched my mood.

Image from photosforyou from Pixabay.com

The Beginning of the End (In a Good Way)

 Yesterday, I entered the grades for the last summer class I'll ever teach. Then, I met my husband at a local restaurant to watch soccer, forgot to put the towels in the dryer, and spent the evening half-watching another soccer game with my laptop on my lap.

In other words, just another day.

Except that it wasn't. This final curtain on an online summer class was the first curve in the path toward retiring -- for real this time. I learned a long time ago to never say never, but I also know there are rare exceptions. At this point in my life, as I forge a path toward retirement, summer classes were the first domino to fall in the "never again" tower.

It's not that I mind teaching summer classes -- they're asynchronous online, so the deal doesn't get much better than that. It's just that I -- like everyone else -- would prefer to have the summer off.

Endings are often bittersweet, but this one isn't, mostly because it doesn't really feel like an ending. In fact, it's neither bitter nor sweet since I still have at least two semesters of face-to-face instruction ahead of me -- a form of teaching I much prefer to the online variety. In addition, all my upcoming classes requiring some updating or revising (in my mind, anyway), so I'm really just switching from one to-do list to the next.

In addition, the end of any semester often takes a while to sink in. Even thought I've crossed the last item off my to-do list, it takes a few days for the "I should be doing schoolwork" cloud to fully dissipate and move out of my headspace into wherever it goes from there. Only then do I realize that the finish line is behind me.

It's been twenty-four hours, and I'm not there yet.

I know that as the time to retire (for real this time) draws closer, all the feelings will start to emerge, but I also know it will be different this time. When I retired for the first time 14 years ago (and it clearly didn't stick), I knew I wasn't really retiring. I had a daughter going into high school, with college tuition on the not-so-distant horizon. In addition, I wasn't yet ready to leave a professional identity behind me.

But now, it's different. A week from now, the cloud will have dissipated and (mostly) on-vacation mode will have set in. But the reality of not teaching in the summer is unlikely to hit me for another nine to twelve months, at which point it really will be something to celebrate.

Meanwhile, I move forward, head and heart ready to do this for real.

I think.

Maternal Reflections

 My stack of reading material always contains at least one spiritual book, and one of my favorite authors these days is Father James Martin. In his marvelous, slim gem, In All Seasons, For All Reasons, he includes the following suggestion:

"Contemplate your favorite growing thing and let it 'speak' to you about how God works."

I'm not much of a nature person, but an answer came to me right away.

My daughter.

Told you I wasn't much of a nature person. But, even if I were, I can't imagine a better growing thing. And, while I'm not sure that my daughter speaks to me about how God works, per se, I know that raising her has brought me plenty of messages about how to be a better person.

I know I'm not alone when I say that, through my child, God spoke (and continues to speak) to me about patience. The patience to let her make her own choices. The patience to not say what immediately springs to mind (though I was much better at that when she -- we -- were younger). The patience to believe that this, too shall pass, whether it's toilet training, the "nag and ignore cycle" of junior year in high school, or the growing pains of young adulthood and the empty nest.

In addition, there's the most obvious message which, of course, is love. We love our children like we love no one else. Even when they make it clear they don't want us around (although feeling the love in that moment can be a struggle).  Even when we don't much care for their behavior, or the choices we patiently "allow" them to make, the love is a throughline the reminds us that, even when things are difficult, love is always possible.

My favorite growing thing has also made certain that I have a sense of humor and that I laugh – with her, at myself, and at the ridiculousness that often surrounds us. I feel particularly fortunate that we share the same somewhat snarky sense of humor, and that, most of the time she gets me. I think I get her, too, even though she's now pretty much all grown up.

But the biggest of all the parenting side effects is gratitude. My darling girl was my rainbow baby, the gift after a pregnancy loss that left me angry with God. I still don't understand what God was trying to say with that turn of events but I do know that if things had proceeded as planned, my favorite growing thing would not exist. The math just doesn't work out. 

I am moved beyond words by the enormity of the gift that is my child -- the person who is somehow exactly the same as and completely different from the baby I once rocked to sleep. Perhaps the most life-changing gift of all is that I will forever see the world and all the growing things in it not just through my own eyes, but through hers as well. 

And maybe, just maybe, that's a little glimpse of the divine.

Image by Jim Cramer from Pixabay

New Directions

Pixabay

 As a not-so-famous author, I'm 100% responsible for my book promotion and publicity. And, although I enjoy some of it some of the time, it's not something in which I have much expertise. Sure, I enjoy dabbling in it, but I can't escape the nagging feeling that I don't have enough background to create anything resembling a viable plan that gets the word about my books to anyone beyond my friends, family, and the wonderful readers who've already found my books.

And that feels a little like shouting into the void. 

Fortunately, I am an educator and, like most educators, I love to learn. So, I decided to take action and find a way to fill the gap between what I know and what I need to know. With this in mind, I signed up for a combination class/program to ratchet up my knowledge and help me approach the whole thing a little more systematically.

So far, I'm swinging wildly between extremes -- I'll open one video or slide show and think, "I know this." (I have done some homework after all). Then, I'll open another video or slide show and get the overwhelming and distressing feeling that it's been created in another language, one in which I have no fluency.

I think it's going to be an interesting journey.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking about where I want to carve out my niche in cyberspace for the long haul. At some point, I've had a presence on quite a few platforms, but I definitely feel more comfortable in some neighborhoods than others. For now, in addition to this blog and Organizing by STYLE, you can find information about all my work on my website and my Facebook group page, Jersey Girl Books & Giggles. I'm also on Instagram and I'm playing around on Threads and Bluesky, but I'm not sure how sustainable multiple platforms will be in the long run. Quite honestly, that will be driven by a combination of traffic and my comfort level on the site. 

I wish I could say I had a master plan but, at the moment, it's under construction. For now, I'd love it if you'd follow me in any or all of the places above, and drop a comment below to let me know if there's a different place you like to go online to read about books and/or find your next good read. In the end, I, like everyone else, want to be where my friends and family are and if you're a loyal reader, I don't want to create a road map that leaves you behind. 

Thanks for reading. I'm happy you're here.

 One night last week, I successfully crafted a blog post for STYLE Savvy, and wrote the better part of a second one but, when it came to creating a post for this blog, I came up empty. Part of it was simply being out of mental energy, but part of it was also coming up with something new. 

Earlier this month, I promised myself to spend a few minutes each day reviewing the various notes and ideas I have scattered about or, if the muse dropped by, coming up with a few new ones. Tonight, I came across a page of questions I'd jotted down when I read Kate Schelter's Classic Style over a year ago. She had various questions she'd posed to the stylish people who filled the pages of her book, and I jotted down a few of my queries. As I sat down to press a few of them into service for this post, I realized it's been a long time since I had my characters on the porch swing.

So, on this muggy summer evening, I welcome Marita and Bets back to the porch swing (Charli is playing miniature golf with her father and Angel). Together, my characters and I will answer a few of Kate Schelter's questions.

#1: Always in your fridge:

Lisa: Iced tea.

Bets: Wine.

Marita: Milk. For Charli's cereal. It's a mom thing.

#2: Skill you dream of mastering.

Lisa: French. Or knitting.

Bets: I'm pretty skillful, actually. 

Marita: Parenting.

Bets shakes her head. "You're a good mom."

Marita: Thanks. But the rules are always changing.

#3: Less is more or more is more?

Lisa: Less is more, especially as I get older. 

Marita: Depends. Clutter? Less. Shoes? More.

Bets: What is wrong with you people? More! More is always more. Although with some people, less is more than enough.

#4: Wrist watch

Lisa: Apple Watch

Bets: Ooh, fancy! No watch. 

Marita: Fitbit.

#5: Writing implement

Lisa: Depends on the task.

Marita: Pencil.

Bets: Red Sharpie. Or purple. Depending on my prose.

#6: Piece of furniture you really love and use every day

Bets: My bed!

Marita: Can't argue with that. I think my kitchen table, though. Charli and I have had a lot of good talks there.

Lisa: My blue chair in our sunroom, which is one of a pair. They originally belonged to my parents and we inherited them, so to speak, when my parents opted for recliners.

Marita and Bets (and Lisa) have lots of opinions. You can read Lisa's here any time, and you can find out more about Marita and Bets (and Charli and Angel) as well as the people who spark their strong opinions in any of the books below. (And yes, Casting the First Stone has a different cover now. Same contents, though :-)