Bye-bye Guilt

I'm sitting here, eyes on my computer screen, wondering what I should write. Haven't blogged in at least a week. So, Guilt, that familiar friend(and I use that term loosely) , has come visiting. She tells me that it is not good for me not to write down my thoughts and feelings, my hopes and aspirations. She tells me that I am going to be intellectually dull without benefit of a daily dose of vitamin BS. She nags me into thinking and doing and worrying about everything and everyone.

SHE is not a good houseguest. Guilt comes far too frequently and usually when things are difficult enough as it is....She eats too much, leaves her stuff lying all over the house, and often invites her friends, Shame and Embarrassment over. (And if Guilt is a bad houseguest, Shame and Embarrassment are the poster children for unwanted household interlopers).

Fortunately, Shame and Embarrassment have learned over the years that they are not welcome here, and usually only stay as long as I allow. When I have really had it, I will say, out loud, "You have no reason to be here, and I want you to leave", and they will usually stomp around a bit, mutter a few choice words like, fat and stupid, and then take themselves out of here.

Guilt, on the other hand will stay for weeks at a time, (and has been here for years at a time occasionally). She lays around on the couch, not even bothering to get dressed.....She goes out shopping, (and alas, since the age of the PC, can even stay here and do it, and not even dress) and spends all of my money. She buys frivolous items that I really can not afford, and gives them away to make herself feel better. (The bad thing here is that when Generosity visits, there is often less to share because Guilt has spent it all).

Guilt is a shape-shifter. My husband often cannot tell Guilt from Generosity, and so, in trying to defend himself, will yell at both of them.

Guilt is a taskmaster..... She nags me into doing more and more and more, and never applauds me for my efforts. The more I give, the more she wants. When I was a kid, my dad used to always say, "Y'all are never satisfied...."......I think he meant, "Guilt is never satisfied......." I am not kidding you, she REALLY is never happy with my best intentions.

She insists that I cook large fattening meals, with lots of fat and cheese and sugar, etc., and tells me that is the very best way to let my family know how much I love them. She insinuates, in that snarky, bitchy way that she has, that soup and salad are not enough food love for my family, and that in order to fortify them emotionally, I must fatten them physically. I am beginning to realize that she wants me to "insulate" them, not fortify them.

She taunts me in the laundry room, making fun of ketchup stains and green grassy knees...."What will the teachers think?", she whispers....."What kind of mother does not use Clorox?"............I sort, and I pre-treat, and I buy the best fabric softener that money can buy, and still, it is never enough...."Why don't you starch and iron?", she suggests............

Easy for her to say, she doesn't have anything else to do. while I am off working 4 jobs, she is lying around, watching the Price is Right, and The Young and the Restless.

And the house.....................the house is the worst. She is a chronic complainer, and often reminds me that a clean house is a healthy house....(healthy for who?) I want to tell her that a house that is filled with toys and dogs and quilts and 17 varieties of tea IS healthy....At least mentally...

A house that overflows with yarn and with fabric and with paintbrushes is a welcoming home, a place where we can create and explore who we are...So what if our couch is lumpy and bumpy and covered in dog hair...And is it really a big deal if last nights dinner dishes sit in the sink for a few more hours?

To Guilt it is.....Guilt tells me that there will be time to paint, and draw, and sew and knit and write, and read, and sing, and dance and play, AS SOON AS THE DISHES ARE DONE AND THE HOUSE HAS BEEN CLEANED....what Guilt does not get is that there will not be any ENERGY left to paint and draw and sew and knit and write and read and sing and dance and play and LOVE EACH OTHER when the dishes are done and the house has been cleaned. Does Guilt remember that I am a working mother? of 5?

So this morning, after staring at this computer screen and wondering what to write about....Guilt is going to get what is coming to her. Bang your head against the wall, Guilt,............... kick, scream and gnash your teeth, throw yourself to the floor and go into a tantrum....It won't matter to me. I am setting your bags on the porch and changing your sheets and freshening up your room. I have invited Nurturance to move in...........and you know the best part?

SHE is bringing some of her own yarn and tea to share.............................

What I want....TODAY!

I want to.....

I want to slide in the snow. I want to play in the sand. I want to plant morning glory seeds and watch as they grow into strong and vigorous vines, twisting and climbing up my front porch and onto my rocker. I want to sit beneath a bower of blooms at midnight and close my eyes to the heady fragrance of sweet summer sunshine.

I want to play....I want to jump in the surf and ride the waves, and eat hot, salty, french fries under an umbrella. I want to find a large grassy hill, and roll all the way down, tumbling faster and faster into wild clover below. I want to sit on a creek bank and dangle my feet in the water. I want to watch you catch fish, Michael, while I recite poetry and you pretend to listen.

I want to work. I want to bake bread with nuts and with seeds and with oats, and take it out of the oven hot and spread it with butter and share it with my family. I want to hang my sheets outside on a windy day to admire the way they flap and fly in the breeze, and to lay on them all night and smell the wind and the sun. I want to pull weeds in the garden, and when no one is looking, sit down on that large rock, and rub a tomato on my jeans and eat it, still warm from the sun.

I want to fly a kite one day, in a field all alone, running and running till I reach the road. I want to go to Vermont and live off the land, at least for a little while, so I can catch my breath and get back to living real life. (Am I complaining ?) (I just want some time to "be") I want to stand atop a mountain that no one has ever stood on before and shout at the top of my lungs..

I want to ride in a boat, all the way and back again....I want to sail the sparkling sea....(which I have done thanks to my wonderful husbands wonderful parents)

I want to walk down the back yard, through the garden gate and into Miss Lolly's. I want to paint large pictures of roses and nasturtiums and not even care if they look like blobs. I want children to surround me as though I am not even there. I want to listen raptly as they talk to each other about frogs and about doll babies, and about how they believe the world to be.

And I want to believe the way they believe the world to be. I want to wake with the sunrise, and rest with the sunset and never, ever think about tomorrow. I want to sleep the slumber of the innocent, waking in perfect peace with no fears for the day.

I want to watch the dust motes in the late afternoon sunshine with a cup of tea and a ball of yarn on my lap. I want to be lulled into comfort by the sounds of the harbor in Maine.

I want to gather round my family on a cold Christmas Eve, and read stories and tell tales of times long ago. I went to hold them all close and for a short time, make our world a safer and warmer place. I want to remember, when we are scattered to the winds, how our memories have anchored us to something larger than ourselves.

I want lots of grandchildren....(better get busy, you older ones). I want one who can sing, and once who can dance, one who can sew, and one who can make us all laugh. I want one who is studious, one who is shy, and one who is hell on wheels, so I can sigh and say, "She is just like me when I was her age" I want one who plays ball, and one who plays banjo, and I want to live in a world where all of them can be anything they want to be.

I want to be a part of the world around me. I want to stand tall and speak the truth, in love and in care. I want to spend my time and my energy making the world a better place. And I want to spend time and energy enjoying it.

Mostly, I want time. I want the time to stop and appreciate, the time to nurture a growing thing, the time to savor the fruits of our earth and the fruits of our labor. I want time to make something, something lovely to hold or lovely to wear. I want time to share comfort, or pride or a hundred other emotions that we humans have. I want time so that I can give, and in the giving, get back... someone once told me that I was doing God's work. I wish I had time to work more for God, and less for me, more for what is really important and less for the almighty dollar.

I want to paint you a picture and make you a meal, the kind of meal that nourishes your soul as well as your body. I want to knit you a hat, of soft warm alpaca. I want to hold your hand in my hand and share precious moments letting you know how much you mean to me. I want to pray together, knowing that we are all God's children, the old and the young, the fat and the thin, the black and the white............I want all of God's children to know the love that I've known.

On my darkest days, in the dimmest of times, when things seemed hopeless, HE keeps bringing me back to Him with His love and His acceptance, and me, I want to live like that, AND I want us all to live like that.

I want to be the change I wish to see......

In keeping with the Olympics, the real ones in Vancouver,...................and also the real ones going on all over the world tonight, the knitting olympics..................I am writing today about my own challenges, my own knitterly strengths and weaknesses...............

I guess I will start with the triple Lutz....My own......Overachiever? Me? Maybe................I have started three projects for the winter Olympic games.............the trifecta of terror, we'll call it....the triple lutz in the hands of me, the triple clutz!

My three projects? (and I am being generous...I actually have 5)...A lovely shawl, knit in shimmering shades of sultry salmon, and gold.................VERY easy knitting, and yet because it is the longest of the three projects, it often falls to the back of the burner,...uh, I mean the knitting basket...It is knit with a variety of fibers,.....a shining and shimmery silk giving it a lovely sheen.

It pops with colors and textures, and I almost think that when it is done, I may NOT sell it, but rather save it to wear in my 2014 olympic season. Imagine me, careening down that hill, skis in hand,.uh, I mean needles.....................and finally, after all of the months of grueling training, sticking that all important landing, the cable!!!

Yup...you guessed it. I am high on olympic fever. I can do anything! I bob and weave and knit gracefully and athletically, and the sky is the limit to my success.....

(uh, okay........back down to earth)

My next project, a circular scarf thingie, ................not quite a scarf, not quite a hat, not entirely a hood, and certainly not a shrug............This knittie is a thing to behold.....Born in the trenches, conceived in the shadows.....a progression in the sport...One day in the distant future, this feat will be the standard by which all knitters are judged....(I feel like Shawn White)...just call me the flying eggplant.........................

And the socks.....................oh, the socks.....I am churning them out like fake snow on the mountain...(Never mind that they are fake socks....tubes without benefit of turned heels)...I still have loads of them made....and every small toe in my household will be covered and warmed.

Of course, I know these are not the real Olympics, not even the real knitting Olympics.....I, in fact, am nowhere near knitterly inclined to compete....I, figuratively speaking, am on the bunny slope....but it matters not to me. I am a part of the game, a member of the team, and I knit with my head held high, knowing I knit with those who came before me and am a member of that group who will knit after me..........We give our all to our sport, not with skates and skis and sleds, but with wool, and silk, and cotton, and our needles held aloft....We knit for life!!

With all that said, can someone convince my husband that knitting is a vital and neccesary occupation and that even more important than the knitting is the procurement and possession of large, (ridiculously large), (copious, in fact,) amounts of yarn....Can someone please explain to him that yarn (any amount) is ALWAYS a highly desirable item ....to be placed highest in priority, over almost any other item in a household???? Folks,.............I am only doing my part for my country, and for the world.....when the yarn famine occurs, I will be the last to go. And you, my fine fiber-loving friends will be here, sharing in the victory with me...

friends

Once upon a time, I heard that every woman needs at least 5 types of friends.....the "multi-generational" friend...(one I fear that I have become... to younger women....) meaning, of course, that I am now, officially, the "old broad"....one,
the "historical" friend....that person who has known you since you were barely more than a baby, the one who can reference all of those important milestones of your childhood and early adulthood....
one, the "spiritual" friend............pretty self explanatory, I think...
I don't remember the others, but I have a few of my own to add to the list....

The "hair coloring" friend"..We all have a friend like this. She is the one to egg us on, drag us kicking and screaming into the 21th century...Usually, she is also the "trashy lingerie" friend, too. Let's admit it. This friend is fun....We can get downright raunchy with this friend. She is often also, our "let's hit the bar" friend.....I've had a friend like this....her name was Ellen, I won't go into more information (got to protect the guilty, you know) but Ellen, if you are out there, and you are reading this, You will always hold a special place in my heart...and though it has been years since we have played together, I will never forget the times we shared...(and neither will the local police)..Oh, yes, I am only kidding. It was never *really* that bad.....and besides, I am fairly certain that strip poker is legal in all 50 states.

There is also the "Betty Crocker" friend....You all know her, too. She is the one you call when you need to have the perfect recipe for dessert when your in-laws are coming to dinner. She always knows the right formula for getting hair color (reference friend A) out of your lovely ivory cashmere sweater...and she is the very best at reminding you when school pictures are being taken or when it is your turn to bring the juice and snack bars to soccer practice. Make no mistake about it,...though she appears to the naked eye as a Stepford Wife alumni, once you really get to know her, she'll let you in on a few of her secrets, and somewhere inside the facade of Maybelline and Lands End clothing, you will find a secret gypsy wannabe, just bursting to be released.

Then there's the long distance friend......You can tell her anything, and I do mean ANYTHING....she is too far away to let the snaky little details of your big secret out to the neighborhood. And even if she isn't, chances are, she has told you some secret of her own which you can hold over her he......er, uh,....I mean, you have a mutual trust with this friend.

And speaking of the neighborhood, we all have the "neighborhood friend". We talk over coffee at the bustop in the morning, discuss the progress on the renovation of 246, down the street.....She is the friend you call when your car won't start and you need jumper cables, and you need them now. She is also the one you call when your in-laws are coming for dinner and your cake fell (reference friend B). She ALWAYS has a stash of those Pepperidege Farms frozen cakes.....and if you have time, you can call your Betty Crocker friend to tell you how to disguise it as your own.
This friend is a lifesaver, and when you need some spying on your teenage son, she is MORE than happy to interject some espionage into her day on your behalf. She is the neighborhood police, and nothing and no one gets by her.

Then there's the "down to earth" friend. In my case, this is my Aunt Jane...She will never, and I do mean NEVER, let you get away with feeling sorry for yourself. When you need a pick me up, she'll help with your laundry, she'll even scrub your floor, but don't count on her for the "you poor dear thing..." routine. And the gifts..This friend, (Thank you, aunt Jane) will always have something completely inspiring to give you during times of stress. I remember the time my aunt Jane gave me an entire bolt of muslin for Christmas. and because the trauma (whatever it was) came in October, she didn't waste time getting it to me...and she didn't mince words.."Sew yourself up a new quilt. You'll feel better,..and whatever you do, DON'T hang it on the wall. Quilts are meant to keep people warm, not walls" This friend understands your passion for all things flannel, and can share in your delight at a pot of white beans and a pan of cornbread on a cold winter night. She never, ever is without a fresh pot of coffee, and you can usually count on her for a hidden stash of something harder..(though not my Aunt Jane)

Those are just some kinds of friends...There are fake friends, work friends, "Mom- friends"...there are silly friends, friends you love but hate to spend time with...What I am talking about now are some die-hard, "I got your back", "I'll love you no matter what you tell me", "I'll hide the evidence" kind of friends....

Mary and Brenda...Thank you. When I think of all the days and weeks and months and now years you have been there for me, I could almost cry. That is if I weren't so busy laughing. There are things that you all know about me that NO ONE knows about me...and YOU STILL LOVE ME!!! I say this in amazement...All of the dirty little corners in my soul have been exposed to you.....the crumbs and scummy stuff on the floor of my brain.....the straight-up, straight-out crazies!!
You and me, girlies............we talk food and children and in-laws,.....we talk about sex and shampoo and the meaning of life. Philosophy, anatomy and animal husbandry....You all have been there through the thick and thin (mostly thin) of my growing up and growing old, and in your eyes, and through your eyes, I am young. I am old. I am a girl, I am a granny. I am!! I AM! I can be whatever I want to be, and mostly, after all of these years getting to this point, .....that is....to be me...to be myself.

Someone once called you my imaginary friends...(you know who that someone is). imaginary? NOT! You are the realest, truest friends I have. I love you. I love you for the lovely and tasty crumbs on the floor of your brain...and for the crazies, and the jollies that you share with me. You are beautiful, and you are true.

On a bad day, I fret and freak and fuss about, all the while wishing you were here. and one day, my friends, you will be....But until that day, I am here and I offer everything that I am to you.

Come away with me, at least in our minds, and we can be anything we want to be....We already are.

My kids

Did I mention today how much I love my kids?

I am SO proud of all of you, and I want you to know, one of these days, and soon, I am going to stop smothering you with my love. "nuff said!

sagging body parts

Sagging body parts.....I am sure, most of you, like me, automatically think of the same parts.....the tired old bosoms, once perky and firm, now fallen from grace..........the youthful behind, which has now fallen into a variety of lumps, bulges and strange clay-mation shapes. Or maybe not...................maybe that is just me...(Tell me it is happening to all of you, too)....never once have I worried about my earlobes....Nope, not me!

Let me just tell you, I have it on good authority that ALL of us need to worry....We need to step up our work-outs, even consider surgery, ANYTHING, at ANY cost to avoid the dreaded sagging earlobe syndrome...

Just like I never pay attention to shoes....( and I know some of you are horrified at my lack of reverence to the almighty shoe shopping excursion), I never pay attention to earlobes. In a crowded party, across the office, I never glance, no, not even once, at earlobes....

So imagine my horror when I hear from my daughter about her concern for herself and countless other women and their sagging, drooping, splitting earlobes...(Are there other women out there looking at my earlobes and finding me lacking?) This reminds me of the day when I realized that other women were looking at my shoes....(oh, the shame,.............the embarrassment....)

She tells me that I can make a fortune producing earrings for these poor unfortunate women. Knitted, beaded, crocheted, fabricate them anyway you must, mother, but for God's sake, MAKE THEM NOW!!!!

I am not sure I have time anymore to make earrings.....or anything else.....no time to knit, to sew, ...no time to cook or bake,....no time to produce vividly colored works of art to admire in the privacy of my cloffice (Have you seen my house and all of the crowd that lives here....I feel blessed to have this closet-office)
Why, egads!!! People who live in glass houses should NEVER throw stones. Before I can even think about embarking on the production of weightless earrings, I need to put my own house in order....(Do you think duct taping my ears at night would work?)
I mean, in all seriousness, who is going to buy specialty earrings from a woman with weighted, drooping elderly earlobes???

And another thing...where is the fairness in my earlobes drooping? I have done everything right...I have taken all the steps these many years to support my earlobes....I have never abused them with cold and callous metals and fake glass baubles that weigh them down.....(This is just another of those examples of that "Life is not fair" mom-ism) Life just is NOT fair. and I, for one, am tired of being the recipient of that oft-repeated statement. It wasn't fair when I stopped growing tall at 5 foot 4 inches, and started growing out...............it wasn't fair when my hair began graying at 30, and everyone said, "Oh well,....it gives you character" Character, my ass...!!! it gave me gray hair! and it gave me a complex...

Well,......back to my original tirade. I had NO idea that earlobes sagged. EVER! and I certainly never entertained the notion that anyone even thought about it, let alone noticed. I'm scared now...really scared.

The heck with my sagging bosoms, my droopy behind, my gray hair,.....I can live with varicose veins, wrinkles and chin hair, but I need to get off of this computer right this very minute...right now, and head out to the mall.

I need duct tape! and I need some of those tiny strapped black shoes....! And I need a prince charming to help me get them on my size 11 Irish washerwoman feet!

That's all I've got today. My idea to be kind to the world today will just have to wait!

Valentines Day or "the nature of love"

As it happens, today is also my wedding anniversary. Today, we have been married 12 years, (after living in sin for 10 or so). If anyone had ever asked me, (and no one did) I would have said that Valentines Day was nothing special,.....just another day to spend money on cards and candies. My first husband, the one that I played house with before I grew up and became a real grown-up wife, used to tell me the same thing...."Lori, it's not a REAL holiday" I believed him. Actually, I believed everything he told me.....

I miss him. This guy who taught me so much ABOUT so much. No Valentine's entry would be complete without me wishing him my love and my admiration. "Hey there, you up in heaven...Happy Valentine's Day....I am thinking of you down here..thank you,...thank you, Glenn for being who you were" And I do miss him. I miss the way he made me feel,.....like I was eternally 19...I miss his often "strange" perspective on everyday things,.....I miss his long discourses and treatises on everything from growing tomatoes to growing children, from the state of the economy to the state of Alaska. (Remember, we were once going to move there).
You with your far-out ideas and unique vision of how life could be.... set me on a path to my own uniquity......a path that has grown and challenged me along the way. Yep, I owe you all of that, my dear friend.

On Valentines Day, I want to thank you for my children....our children,....yours, mine, and Michael's....OUR children. But mostly, today, I want to thank you for Michael, for your crazy, lopsided plan to bring us together.

It was love that brought us together, you and I....It was love that held us together, when all of the world around us was falling apart. But mostly, it was your love that surrendered me to another love, a different love,.....a grown-up, take care of you, grow old together, kind of love. I remember that day at the kitchen table when you told me you had the "perfect man" for me....I laughed, bitterly,...thinking to myself that you would go to almost any lengths to hurt me.

Now, here we are....some 22 years later.....You were right. Michael is the perfect man for me. He loves who I am, not who I was....He challenges me to be all of the things that he knows I am capable of...and he loves me enough to remind me, over and over again. He loves me like a man should love his wife...with everything that he is...he loves me with laughter and humor,....he loves me with adventure and with down-to-earth, everyday, count on you kind of love. In him and through him and with him, I've flourished....I love him in ways I could never imagine. He is my grown-up hero. He is my rock, and my confidante, my playmate and conspirator, my best friend.

You.....you were my muse.

If marriages are like meals, (and I guess they are in a sense. A good marriage nourishes and fortifies us, and a bad marriage is just junk food) then my marriage is like a fine french meal. It takes it's time, meandering though appetizers, savory little morsels that tempt you for more...It's fresh and it's healthy, and there is just enough decadence to leave you feeling sated and full,....pampered. And just when you think you can't eat one more bite, there is always a dessert....something dark and rich yet light. Michael, you are my chocolate mousse.

Valentine's Day is a real holiday. It's the day I marked my new love, the day we chose to become one. And when I look up and remember Glenn, I know it's real.

"Hey up there, Cupid...thanks,...thank YOU" You know who you are!

Friday, and why it is the best day of the week...

It is Friday, finally.....My beloved Friday, the day that my heart delights in,....a day to cheerily go about your work, knowing there is a secret reward for your dutiful service. Fridays are good days for me.....Job #2 doesn't change much for me on Fridays, although my little charges are generally lighter of heart, freer in spirit...and there is no need to discuss verbage or algebraic phrases. Job #1 loves Friday, too. My budding young artists love the paint, the paper, the glue...they love the sense of freedom that they, too, can feel on Fridays. They sing with me....dance with me, and create with me, but ALL BY THEMSELVES....I marvel at their minds and their thoughts and their interpretations and their talents, while I struggle to understand their words. "Mif Wori, dat es my ponee on de lake. De waughteer es blu en de ky es blu en dat es my mama on de hoosie" "Why, yes, little Destra, and that is beautiful. Can the sky be pink? Can the sky be orange?"
And yes, they are still pure enough to know that the sky can be any color they want it to be.......and on Friday, it can be for me, too.

So today, THIS Friday is a bit different....I have not worked all week and most of last week. I feel, suspicously, like I did at 20,....stalking my house in my nightgown, all day long, watching children bounce from one activity to another while I panic at the thought of all the detritus being created for me to pick up. They make obscene noises from their armpits, (at least one of them does), they wallow, they squabble over who goes first, and they whine about having nothing to do. Can't have that, now can we? "Here", I say,..."Take this trash bag and fill it. Let's see who can finish fastest?" It never works. They always see through my feeble attempts to entertain them. These kids, MY kids don't feel like little prodigies...they most often feel like appendages, extra hands and feet that get in the way, that have to be dressed warmly to go out in the snow.......with nary a mitten or snowboot in sight.
it's a struggle to make a path in the snow with all of these feet having to work together. Imagine for one moment....
But just like hands and feet and other extraneous parts, when they hurt, I hurt. When they are cold, I am cold, and in order for the body to feel whole and well, all of the parts need to feel whole and well.

I digress here.....Back to the subject. Today is Friday, but feels much like a Tuesday. I am almost looking forward to Monday...... to feel like Friday. I love these kids,......and to show them, I think I'll paint a pink and purple sky.......

Snoverkill

That is all I can say about this winter. I love the snow,....dream in white,......fantasize about long days sipping a pot of tea by the fire watching the flakes fall from the sky....but this.....this is overkill, uh, I mean snoverkill.

I find myself pacing, like a caged animal, from front door to back door, stopping only to pop some sweet morsel into my mouth for sustenance as I prowl.....Tonight's special" hot homemade cinnamon rolls....

What do I think is going to be any different from front to back, back to front...??
The snow remains white, and cold, and whirling and cold....Tonight is NOT the snow you walk in as it gently and gracefully covers man-made flaws. It is the snow that madmen delight in, the snow that makes you want to go screaming, naked, out into the street yelling, "I can't take it anymore". That is if you haven't been sneaking morsels for a week. Naked is scary. I am not so mad as to no longer care about scaring children and wild dogs.

I promise myself this. When spring arrives and I am a thin and lovely naked woman, I really WILL run naked into the street, screaming "I can't take it anymore."....in rememberance of tonight!

Snow

Snowmageddon,..............Snowpocalypse, and my personal favorite, "Snowtorious B.I.G." Now I like snow as much as the next person, (and probably more), but this is getting crazy...We have been out of school now for 5 days, which (if I am being honest)I was really looking forward to...(work in the schools system). Oh yes, I had plans to bake, to sew, to work on some artwork that I have been inspired to do (past tense), to knit, to clean my house.

Does anyone know what happens to good intentions when they are cooped up in a house with 3 children all week?

Let's see.....Baking...Yes, I did some baking. Made cookies for the kind neighbors who plowed my parking space out, and yes, saved several dozen for the family. alas, I caught myself wanting to hide them so that I would have my secret stash to either 1.) eat them all as a means to keep from swearing at the children, or 2) use them as bribes to get said children to behave. 36 hours later and they are gone.....Take a good guess on which option won out.

Sewing? Well, I seriously thought about it, but when I had this plan I was envisioning a lovely clean home, smelling of pot roast and cinnamon rolls, and me happily humming and sewing away at the CLEAN dining room table...Here is the reality:
On the table at present is 1 large maine coon, 11 gloves and/or mittens waiting for their mates to arrive so that they might be couples....there are last nights soup bowls, a load of unfolded laundry (yes, my dryer is finally fixed), 2 empty liter bottles of soda, and assorted bags of chip crumbs that I am reluctant to throw away in case it never stops snowing and we have a snack food emergency. Gee, do you think I should worry about there being a sewing emergency?

Artwork...............yes, there it is, my creative outlet, my favorite way to voice the fierce frustration that reigns in my soul. The paint is gone, except the watercolours, but the watercolour paper is gone. Used up! and watercolours are nothing without watercolour paper...The clay is hardened, the pens are dried out, and the only thing left to create is red crayon on the bumpy side of the refrigerator. I am fighting the impulse, truly I am...

Knitting.....my zen, my passion, my calm and peaceful retreat in a crazy world gone mad. This is the storm that I have been stashing for. There is yarn in every corner of this house, heretofor hidden, awaiting the day when I could break it out, and shout triumphantly, "See? I NEEDED this yarn" There is cotton, and silk, and merino.......mohair and alpaca. There is soft wool and scratchy wool, there is even acrylic the question is not "to knit or not to knit", the question is "what to knit" I am so mired down by my expectations of a knitted garment or accessory knitted during a blizzard that I am afraid to begin. I knit a few rows of that amazingly soft apple green alpaca (but oh no, I need to come up with a real plan for this incredible yarn)....I switch to the locally raised natural alpaca, thinking, "oh yes, this is it...so soft, so warm...."....but wait, "I cannot possibly knit with this. This house is too messy and the dog will get dog hair on it, and I will have wasted this yarn"....Back to the drawing board. I have now spent several hours ripping out knitting. "ah yes, the cotton,...............ah, the cotton" I finally settle on a lovely organically grown cotton and begin.....knit 1, purl 1, knit 1, purl 1....What am I thinking of? I absolutely cannot use this yarn. What if someone gets pregnant? This cotton is far too fine for me to use to knit washcloths for my old despoiled body.....So okay, I will knit with acrylic. It is cheap, it is a dime a dozen, and I don't mind using it for anything....off we go...We are really getting something done now....But do you know what I discover? I don't mind one bit knitting something unimportant with this acrylic yarn...I don't mind wasting it...but what I do mind, is wasting my TIME with acrylic yarn. This will never do!

Knitting? I am now perusing patterns that I can try and re-create without a pattern (dyslexic knitter) for the next blizzard. That's right. I will be READY in 15 years when the next blizzards occur. (though on a good note, I CAN continue to grow my stash for that distant storm)

Cleaning....completely out of the question.....how can I possibly clean with all of these children hanging around, and even if they went to their rooms, there is yarn and fabric EVERYWHERE....

So, this is where I am. I have laundry I could be doing. Lord knows, with the dryer broken for over a month, there is plenty of laundry waiting....but I've been thinking. If I do laundry all day, i definitely won't have time for baking, sewing, knitting and a little artwork....amd forget housecleaning!!