Waiting


When I consider blogging as a medium, a few words come to mind. Spontaneity. Flexibility. Immediacy.

Yet, over the past months, I have become more and more planned and scheduled about my posts. Planning and being very scheduled about things vs. showing up and writing about what is going on with me and us, and what, if anything, is inspiring me.

For a while, I was pleased with myself for planning out all my cooking, writing and photographing, until recently I hit some snags. Control became an issue. Suddenly I wasn't writing because I was waiting.

Waiting for an order of Graham Flour, so I can make some recipes from Good to the Grain. Waiting for us to eat up some cookies I was trying for Bring in the Garden Friday, so I can tweak the recipe and try them again. Waiting for us to savor our Valentine cupcakes.

There are only so many sweets a little family can have on hand at a time. (This is Mom talking).

Then, this morning I dropped off my knitting project at a tailor's. She is going to sew in a zipper for me. She said she'd give me a call in about a week. Diverted from this project (another future blog post postponed), I'll return to a pattern of stripes.

I have backed myself into a corner. Yet, if this page were a journal, I wouldn't wait for dessert to be eaten or flour to arrive. I'd just pick up my pen and write.

Now that I am forced away from my typical go-to subjects, here's what I see. The temperatures are milder, and will be increasingly so until it is nearly 70 degrees in a couple days. I am so glad to have a break from my old, not-so-pretty parka. Then, by the weekend, it will get cold again. There's talk of snow next week.

Harry has been so cute, sleeping in the sunshine on the steps outside our kitchen door. He's enjoying the weather, too.

Yesterday, I finally wrote a thank-you to my friend, Amy, who sent me her published book of poetry. It took me two months to make time to read it. Driving home yesterday from A.'s school pick-up, I realized some sort of space has cleared for me having written that note.

I don't know if it is space in my mind or heart, some relieved anxiety over worrying about responding to such a collection of work. I do feel like I was worrying about whether I would understand her poems enough to say something worthy.

In the end, I responded to her as a friend. I am not a poet. I made her a valentine and it was upside down. I sent it anyway. The sentiment was still the same as if it had been right-side up.

I bought a valentine card making kit, and I really enjoyed myself. O. asked me last night if I like crafting. I said I do, and this kit reminded me how years ago I was buying handmade paper to make my own cards.

I had forgotten how fun it is to play around with paper, tape and scissors, liberating really. I'll let you know when the Graham Flour comes in, and we are ready for more dessert, but in the meantime, I still need to write and take a look at what is around me.

It feels good to get out of the corner. Maybe this is where I felt the space clear.