We all don’t have the right shoes to wear. Except Monica Lee Copeland, a friend of mine who always has the perfect shoes. Others don’t. I travel with 2 outfits and 6 pairs of footwear. I can buy clothes, but with my feet, I’m not just going to encounter shoes in my size without killing a large water buffalo. And those aren’t everywhere. Sure I can find them in India, Nepal, western Thailand and sometimes in the Bhutan. But often I’m in other countries. Countries devoid of water buffalo. Therefore I must bring footwear. Otherwise left to complain that I can’t dance, climb, go out on that limb etc because of inadequate footwear.
Which brings me to my real point here. We all like excuses. A friend of mine with far more disposable income than I have told me that she can’t afford to attend the Red Hen fund raiser—with Kay Ryan, Jane Smiley and Dana Gioia. Ron Carlson is attending, Alice Quinn, Janet Fitch. It’s going to be great. I know you’ll be there my blog reader friend.
But my other friend with the heaps of disposable income cannot come. Why not just tell me that it’s not her thing? It’s not how she’d like to spend her money. I get that. If my son were asking me for $1000 to buy another guitar, I’d probably say I didn’t have the money. That’s better than saying, “Are you smoking weed? What makes you think I’m going to break out and buy you a guitar when you have several already.” We like excuses. We’re like Eve in that way. We don’t want to say, No. I don’t want to spend money on that. We’d rather pretend we don’t have the money.
Which brings me to my next point. Time. When we don’t want to do something, we say that we don’t have time. I don’t have time to water my plants. I don’t have time to cook elaborate meals from scratch. That’s why we eat too much rice and now are getting all chunky from the white carbs. We should be eating arugula and thinly sliced tofu. And loving it. “Let me see if I can fit you in,” people say. “Let me look at my calendar,” and then they whip out something electronic and start messing with it to see where you fit in to the master plan.
I’m guilty of this myself. I plan. I plan ahead. If I don’t, then I don’t fit things in. I am busy. But what I’m trying to do as a result of this vacation and all is not waste time doing stuff I really don’t want to do that sucks your life. I’m trying to focus on writing, breathing. There are things I want to do. I want to discover why one of my miniature roses has mould, why the tomatoes don’t have more fruit, what to do about the dogs’ unremitting rage about the fireworks. And if I don’t figure all that out, then I’ll still just have time to think.
My kids like to play. They like Scrabble, my daughter’s playing it right now with her dad and her girlfriend. They like card games. They can stay up for hours just chatting and drinking beer. I gave them lots of Otter Pops summers. They learned to lounge in their creative free time and they love it. I like that about them. They got the kick back gene from their father.
But they got the work gene from me. At least one of them did.