I Finally Did It! (A happy/sad/embarrassing story of procrastination)

Dearest Snow,
How can I ever thank you? I'm forever in your debt!

If you hadn't kept us home bound for four delicious days, we would have missed the hot chocolate.
We would have missed the finger numbing fun of readjusting the plastic bags over our sneakers as we plodded around the yard.
And we would have missed seeing this face.

Thanks!

You provided us a ton of fun, but there's something else, something more amazing that particularly compelled me to write. It's a little humiliating, so don't tell anyone. Ready?

Snow, if you hadn't come to visit, the couch in my bedroom would still look like this.


And often like this.

See, after two days of hot chocolate and oatmeal cookies warm from the oven, of tromps through our neighborhood and gazing at the moon on the breast of you, I began to get bored.
A nice kind of bored. The kind that comes with mysterious urges to do useful things.
Things like organizing the linen closet and cleaning out the junk drawer in the kitchen.
And when I finished all that stuff, the couch called to me.

[Readers, remember the couch? I'm embarrassed to remind you that back in August, I wrote a post titled Unfinished Business in which I shared how I'd found the flowery couch for $25 at a garage sale back in the spring of 2008. I planned to slipcover it in red denim for my bedroom and got as far as finishing the pillows. Then I took a long look at the frame, took a second long look at the 17 yards of red denim, and decided I should really start a blog. That was three years ago! In my August post, I preached on how good it feels to finish unfinished projects, and challenged my readers to whip me with a wet noodle if I didn't finish the couch project by August 18.
Nobody whipped me. Y'all are way too nice.]

Snow, if it weren't for you, this would have never happened!

Yey!
You helped me remember how good it feels to face something I've been avoiding.
It feels GREAT!
It makes me wonder what other things I could cross of my list.
I think I'm going to make this a late resolution for 2011: When I pick up a To Do list, find the item I want to do least, and take care of it first.
So thank you, Snow!
Love, Becky

Readers, I wonder if I can do it. I don't usually suffer from a tendency to procrastinate when it comes to my work, but in other parts of my life? Oh yeah. (You should see the attic. Maybe on another snowy day...no, it would take a snowy week!)

Do you fight the urge to procrastinate? What helps you face what you want to avoid?

Have a great Tuesday, y'all!
Love, Becky

Thanks to Phototrope for the first photo, licensed through creative commons.

Watching Cat TV

Libby's enjoying a late Christmas present...a window seat to the Bird Channel!
With seven inches of snow, topped off with ice, the cardinals and finches have rediscovered our feeders.

It's great entertainment for a cat-- and for us.

Watching them hurry in, so hungry.


Or just nibble quietly.


I love to see them feed each other.

It reminds me what my friends (like you) do for me.

Equip me to keep going.

Help me puff up my feathers against the cold, with energy in reserve to enjoy--and see--the wonders around me.

The elegance of the ordinary birds


As well as the flashier ones.

We all need nourishment for the journey.


You know, all these redbirds remind me of a book I haven't reread in a while.

Do you know it? It's one of my favorites.
Perfect to read on a snowy afternoon like this one.
Libby, I'll leave you to the window.


Don't worry about the birds, folks. Libby's an inside cat for the time being, and besides, some of those fellas look like they could take her, should she make a surprise appearance.

Have a great Tuesday, y'all!
Love, Becky

PS. Thanks to Todd for all these great photos!

Unfinished Business

Sometimes when you see the same thing every day, you stop noticing it anymore.
Like how sweet a boy looks conked out on a dog pillow.

Or how goofy a dog looks when he's trying to make you love him again after he's stolen the peanut butter off the counter, sneaked it out the dog door, and hidden out under the grapevines, licking out every last bit of goodness with his alarmingly long tongue.


Or how gorgeous muscadine grapes look as they get big and juicy in your backyard.

Wait a second.
Flip back to that first pic.


Yep, that's the one.
Talk about not noticing things anymore. How embarrassing!
See that couch? If you've been around here for a while, you may remember that I found it two and a half years ago at a yard sale. Back then it was all blue and flowery, but the moment I laid eyes on it, I heard the angels sing. See, we have an itsy bitsy television in our bedroom, and for some reason my kids always ended up in there to watch movies and plant popcorn kernels between our sheets. A comfy couch would get them out of our bed. Plus, it was only $25!

Two seconds after we lugged it through the door, I downed a pot of coffee for strength and began hopping all over it, measuring and sketching and calculating how I'd make the slipcover. Twenty-one yards would be enough. I sped to the fabric store and returned with red denim.

For the next day and a half, I turned my dining room into a sweat shop, hunched over my sewing machine, turning out pillow slipcovers. I'd done this before with the couch in the den, so I kind of knew what I was doing.
Finally it came time to tackle the couch itself, the reupholstery part. The part I dread.

The couch in the den had straight, easy arms. This one had rolled arms, arms that whispered I'm too hard. You can't do it. Who do you think you are, Martha Stewart?
I stared at the couch and drew things and measured some more.
I struggled and gave myself brain cramps and a Medusa hairdo, and finally decided just to sleep on it. Maybe the solution would come to me. Maybe I'd feel braver tomorrow.

When I woke the next morning, I took a long look at my couch.
Then I decided to start a blog.
It's two and a half years later and I'm still loving my blog. Unfortunately, however, the couch still looks like this.

I've grown so used to the look that I hardly even see it anymore.

Does this ever happen to you?
You get attracted by a new project, and you dive in full force. Then you get to the part that feels strange and scary, and you abandon it for something more comfortable. Something that looks easier or more fun. Like making a skirt for your dog or a dress for your daughter. Starting a blog or a novel. Or just rearranging your silverware drawer.

Pretty soon you forget about what you've left undone. That is, until your parents come to visit and you catch them looking funny at it, running their fingers along the cardboard strip that's stapled on the outside, wondering if you did that on purpose.

You meant to get back to the couch. You really did. It's just that there are always other things to tackle. Other things that seem more doable and fun.

Do you do this in your inner life too?
I'm guilty.
Maybe someone's hurt us or we've hurt someone else. Maybe there's a weakness we know we need to work on, something we've done or haven't done and we regret it. But instead of dealing with it head on, we move on to other things, things that are easier and suck out less emotional energy. We'll get back to it another day. We'll tackle it when we're not so tired, when we have more time.
Soon, we don't even think about it anymore.

Today I'm praying that God will reveal to me all my unfinished business. (Not in one fell swoop, mind you! That vision would surely send me galloping back to bed, squeezing shut my eyeballs and burying myself under pillows for a week!)
One issue at a time, please, God!

I know that God will do it if I ask. After all,
He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what lies in darkness, and light dwells with him.
Daniel 2: 21 NIV

And God won't just leave me there, quaking at my mammoth To Do list.
He'll work with me all the way.
For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.
Philippians 4: 13, New Living Translation
Thank goodness! Thank God!

What about you?
Do you have unfinished business, DIY and otherwise? What gives you strength to get back to the list?

I've found that sometimes accountability can help, so here goes:
I'm determined to fix that couch before school starts, so I hereby promise you a photo of a finished couch by August 16!
Fifty lashes with a wet noodle for me if I don't post it!

Have a wonder-full Monday, y'all!
Love, Becky

Revolt of the Household Appliances

I bet this has happened to you.
One night while you were sleeping, your household appliances had a secret meeting with your roof and your AC unit and the car in your driveway, and made a plan. MUTINY!

Forty eight hours later, before you've barely finished your second cup of coffee, tires start popping and a radiator blows, a vacuum belt snaps and smoke alarm batteries go off in an ear splitting chorus all over the house. Within the week, your home turns into a sauna and a freak hail storm tears up the roof. Even the blender you bought two years ago at the church yard sale purses its metal blades and refuses to budge!

And the money you thought you saved by spending your four days of vacation staying at your parents' house at the beach? It dribbles out in checks to repairmen, for car parts and shingles and air that won't give you heat rash in uncomfortable places.

Oh well. Tant pis, as the French say. Too bad.
Don't cry for me, Argentina. There's no Job story here.
We all have good health, a few homegrown tomatoes that the dog didn't notice, a nice time at the beach, and a (newish) roof over our heads.
Besides, what was that vacation money doing anyway? Just getting dusty in the bank, awaiting the purchase of a stack of college textbooks or new carpet that doesn't look like it spent 60 years with the seven dwarfs. (Pre- Snow White.)

You know what Woody Allen says about the future, right?
If you want to make God laugh, just tell him about your plans.

Yep, we can plan all we want, but what happens, happens.
It's my nature to be against this. I like security. Don't you?
I want to be the ant, storing up food for the winter while the grasshopper plays his fiddle. I wouldn't be mean about it. If the grasshopper came shivering to my door, I'd probably invite him in, let him sleep on the carpet, and only occasionally slip the consequences of fiddle playing into conversation. I'd I'd even share my ant food, within reason.

But a few mornings ago, I read anew the story of God's people wandering through the desert, the sad lot of newly freed slaves, so hungry and tired that they began to whine about forgetting this freedom thing and running back to Egypt, where they could get a decent meal once in a while.
What fascinated me most about the story was how God chose to send them bread from the sky. They could collect only what they could eat each day, and if they sneaked a little extra to save for the next, it rotted and got wormy.
This made me laugh.
God's just like a parent!
The kids needed to learn to depend on Him daily, so He finally took control, walking them through exactly what He wanted for them, step by step-just like we do when our kids get stubborn and refuse to use the potty or sleep in a big girl bed or come home in time for curfew! After much patience and encouragement, we finally take away the pull ups or dismantle the crib or take away the rights to the car, and say, "Here you go, honey. This is how you do it. Mommy's going to help you."

The passage in Exodus (chapter 16, if you want to read more about the manna) also made me think about how often I live in the future, thinking of the bread for tomorrow, instead of enjoying the bread on the table. I think about how happy I'll be once my next book sells, or I get the job, or my kids move out of one stage into the next, instead of soaking in my happiness right where I am.
Planning is fine, but this is life. I need to live it now, not waste my time living in the future.

Maybe that's part of what Jesus was trying to tell us when he gave the lesson on how to pray.

He said to them, "When you pray, say:
'Father, hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come.
Give us each day our daily bread...
Luke 11:2-3, NIV

Today I'm going to try harder to put the future on the shelf and enjoy where I am. And while I'm at it, I'll thank God for my morning multigrain toast--and for a hardworking toaster that didn't bow to peer pressure!

Have a wonder-full day, y'all!
But before you go, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Is living in the moment a struggle for you too? Do you get starry eyed, wishing on the future? What keeps your balloon tethered to today?

Love, Becky

Mommy Scorecard

Flickr photo by Tasayu Tasnaphun, creative commons
I was standing in the parking lot at Target, melting into the asphalt as Sam ran back to the car for his wallet, when I realized that a young woman was talking to me.

"I hate those things," she said, nodding at the stick figure family decal on the back of somebody's SUV. She must have thought I was staring at it.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "Mommy scorecard."

Mommy scorecard? I'd see those decals all around town, stick figure mommies and daddies and lines of kids. Sometimes they'd tote soccer balls or wear ballet tutus, and cats and dogs always trailed behind.

Now, before we go any further, please don't think I'm stick family hating!
If you want to celebrate each member of your family, I say, why not! Peel and stick away!
It's just that for me, mommy scorecard strikes a spinal chord.

Too often I've sneaked glances at other people's papers as I've lived out my life. I've pulled up next to them in the parking lot of life and checked out how we compare. Did we have the complete package, the happy couple, the full set of kids? Smiles on their faces, pompoms and flutes in hand?

When I was a younger mom, home with a two year old and a newborn, while Todd traveled constantly with work, people would see Ben spitting up on my shoulder and Sarah tugging on my jeans, and say, "I don't know how you do it, night after night by yourself."
I'd paw a foot at the floor and do my best Aw, it's no big deal, and then casually see if I could work in a comment about the grad school class I was taking or the volunteering I had to do. It made me feel good for a moment, for someone to recognize my hard work and exhaustion, the perfect picture I was trying to project. But I'd always end up feeling a little empty when the conversation was over.

We want people to see us as complete and successful.
Sometimes we tout our own completeness and success and possessions loudly-we sneak them into conversations or wear them like sandwich boards- because underneath it all, we're scared. We know the truth, that we're broken, we don't really have it all together. Life isn't the perfect picture we want to paint.

As I tuck the scorecard in my purse, I also wonder about those of us who don't match up to the picture on the window, whether through choice or circumstance. The single person, the couple that doesn't have the urge to go forth and multiply. The pair that wants children desperately, but life is cruel and won't cooperate. The families that fall apart.

I hope they know the truth that I took years to find. That God loves us as we are, whether we match the world's ideal or not, whether we do the volunteer work or just sit in front of the TV. That our sad little efforts to mold ourselves to the perfect picture in our heads won't make God love us any more than God already does. He only asks us to do what Galatians advises.

Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that... Don't compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.
Galatians 6:4, The Message

Do the creative best you can with your own life.
That's a tall order, but one I think I can handle.

What does doing the creative best with your own life mean to you?

Have a wonder-full Friday, y'all!
Love, Becky

It's a Dog Party!

Photo from Go Dog. Go! via www.archinect.com
If only the dogs at my party would have been content with checkers and banjo picking!

I hadn't even planned on throwing a dog party, but it happened on Wednesday.
Tanner and I went for a walk, and look who followed us home.

Two friendly dogs wandering the neighborhood. They both had collars and tags, so we invited them into our backyard until their parents could come pick them up.
Our party guests refused to tell me their names so I called this one Sassy...


and this guy Chow Chow.


So what did we do at the party?
There was much sniffing.


And a considerable amount of running around.


Tanner wanted to show his friends the tree house, but he kept confusing things by going down the ladder.


Finally he gave up and went in by himself. (Excuse the unflattering shot.)


Soon the others followed.


After a while, I served refreshments.

Tanner was rude and ate everyone's food. He also hogged the water dish.
I should really send him to cotillion.

After a while, the party took a nasty turn.
It started to rain. The three big dogs got soaking wet and started eyeing the blueberry garden.
Remember it? The twelve bushes Todd planted in the mud pit of anguish and pain?

The clumpy dirt looked so inviting to our guests. Plus, it had all sorts of fun rubbery things sticking out everywhere. Chewy hose-y things that would be delightful to yank.

Mean Old Mommy had to guard the mud pit and yell not so nice things at the guests every time one of them dared to stick in a paw. (So that Mean Old Daddy wouldn't come home from work and have a conniption fit.) So much for Mommy getting any work done that day.

That's okay. The guests didn't mind the party rules too much. But they did beg to bring the celebration indoors.


I mean they really begged.

No way, kiddos.
Now where are their parents? Shouldn't the party be over by now?

Luckily Sam came home from school right when Mommy was starting to come unglued. I mean, she was a bit tired of blueberry guarding and dog sitting.


Mommy wasn't the only one getting grouchy.
Sassy's youthful enthusiasm was starting to get on Tanner's nerves.

There were a few warning yips and snarls.
I think he was just jealous that Sassy was so good at playing fetch. She even understood the part about giving the ball back, which Tanner chooses not to do.
But all in all, a good time was had by everyone.
And after the party was over, there was much of this.

Tanner was zonked.

Apparently Sassy wasn't. Guess who came back yesterday.

Have a great weekend, y'all!
Love, Becky

What's Your Favorite Christmas TV Special?

MERRY CHRISTMAS, CHARLIE BROWN!
And Merry Christmas to you too!

I don't know about you, but I have such mixed up feelings about television. Some days I'd gladly chuck our sets to the curb if it weren't for the mutiny I'd cause in my household. Other days I want to wrap my arms around my television and give it a great smooch. Like on Sunday nights, after Mad Men, or on Saturday nights, after the British comedies on PBS. Or during THE ENTIRE CHRISTMAS SEASON!

Every year I can't wait to curl up in my bed with my youngest child and watch Pig Pen promise to be a very neat innkeeper, Winter Warlock cry tears of regret, and Snow Miser and Heat Miser bicker on the phone while Mrs. Claus plays peacemaker. It makes my toes curl with happiness.

So what about you? What's your favorite Christmas show on TV? Do share!
Have a wonder-full Wednesday, y'all!
Love, Becky

A Snapshot in Time

Happy Monday!
Have you been taking any photos lately?
A snapshot in time can be beautiful and full of meaning, or it can be weird and terribly unflattering. Like this one.

Wow. I must love you guys an awful lot to send this photo into the universe.
Let's further embarrass me by examining it, shall we?
A snapshot can tell quite a story, even several stories all at once.
See the look on Sarah's face?
What? It's too hard to see it? Here, let me make it bigger.

That's Story #1. That is the look of a 19 year old happy to be on her own again. One who's thrilled to have a teensy weensy dorm room all to herself. To share a bathroom with two girly neatniks instead of a pair of grubby brothers who leave the toilet seat up and their dirties on the floor.
Now, back to the photo.
What about Story #2?

That is the leaping form of a ten year old who just spent two hours restrained in a seatbelt, reading The Encyclopedia of Immaturity, his new favorite work of literature. The book has apparently called forth his inner ape, and he must move in leaps and bounces or he'll spontaneously burst into flames.
How about Story #3?

This is a frustrated mother, who would like to shout at the 17 year old camera boy, Would you stop taking dumb pictures and help us move her stuff before this drizzle turns to a downpour, but is afflicted with an attack of Inappropriate Laughter anytime that child makes faces at her.

That snapshot reminded me of another photo, a mental picture my dad shared with me a year ago as I prepared to move Sarah to college for her freshman year. I think it shows the power of story, and how a snapshot in time can reveal surprising things about people. Want to hear it?

Back in the days before my Granddaddy Skaggs mellowed into a teddy bear, he could be pretty intimidating. He was a big, barrel chested farmer who forced crops of tobacco out of the hollers of eastern Kentucky, and once offered my mom a quarter to quit dating his son. Though neither he nor my grandma had gone to college, (nobody had the money for that back then,) he was known for being a wise, intelligent man. My dad planned to leave Sandy Hook for the University of Kentucky, and the day finally came for Granddaddy to move him into his dorm. Daddy had been to UK plenty of times for 4H competitions and thought he knew his way around, but soon after they arrived, they got completely turned around. After a few minutes of wandering around campus, trying to get their bearings, Granddaddy looked at my dad and said, "Son, do you want to just go on back home? You don't need to do this."
This story stuns me. My big tough granddaddy was afraid for his little boy.

Do you carry around mental snapshots that won't let you go? I find these frozen moments of time to be powerful fuel for my writing, but I write memoir, so that's probably not a big surprise. How do you save these snapshots for posterity?
And how about you, artists and fiction writers out there? How often do you recycle these snapshots into your work? I heard a quote by a famous writer's ex wife (Pat Conroy's, maybe?) that he never wrote a word of fiction in his life. I find that fascinating!

Have a wonderful Monday, y'all!
And just so you know, all that stuff finally did make it into Sarah's room.

I'm not sure where she'll sleep, though.
Love, Becky

Time for a Change

Today's Wonder of the World is...Change.

Happy First Day of School! At least at our house.
We've got new backpacks, packs of paper galore, and pencils and glue sticks coming out of our ears. It's a brand new year, and change is in the air.
For me too.

I've been thinking about making a few changes to this blog. After posting over 290 Wonders of the World, it thrills me that wonders keep presenting themselves (just like the Montana bunny rabbit) but I'm thinking it might be fun to change things up a bit. Maybe along with the wonders, we could discuss other topics of interest- writing and memoir, how you nurture the creative spark, that sort of stuff. Oh, and Krispy Kreme doughnuts, too, and anything else of likewise spiritual importance. What do you think? I ask because this involves you too. When I say we could discuss, I'm not using the royal We. I hope you'll stay with me and share your thoughts. I love you guys dearly and enjoy your comments so much.

So I'm taking a miniature blog break to think things over. Ben and Todd had their mancation, so it's time for a womancation of my own! I'm afraid they used up all the frequent flier miles so there's no Rome or Athens or Paris for me. No problem. I'll sit right here and mull things over at my desk with a nice cup of coffee. And maybe a Krispy Kreme.

Have a wonder-ful week, y'all! Before you leave, I'd love to hear your thoughts. What do you think?
Love, Becky
PS. Hope to see you back on Monday!

Can You Come Out to Play?

Today's Wonder of the World is...Making Time to Play!

Are you good about taking time for play? Take my word for it: these two silly boys (and their imaginary friend, I suppose) are excellent at it. See my coffee on the checkerboard? It's required if you want to keep up with those two!

During Cousin Luke's visit, we found a very cool new playground beside the Greenville Zoo, and I found myself wishing I could be a kid again, like Tom Hanks in Big.

I watched my nephew try to drink my soda ("Look Aunt Becky! I can suck it up without even touching my lips to the straw!")

and saw Sam moonwalk across a crowded bridge, and I wanted to try it too! Kids are so ready to go for it. I love that!

So I've made a resolution for the new school year: I'm going to make an effort to play more in my life.

If I need any teachers, I know just who to ask!
What about you? Are you good about taking time to play? What's fun for you?

Have a wonder-full Monday, y'all!
Love, Becky