I am a list maker. To Do. To Get. To Fix. To Find. To Start. To Finish. To Go. To Be. Scribbled on post-its or in the silent sections of the soul. Life’s changes have a way of taking all the lists tossing them in a hat, dumping them out in the backyard during a windstorm and still expecting you to get things done.
Sadly more and more of late I find myself unable to go on. A depression grips me as I watch the metaphorical bits swirl about; disappearing over fences or sticking in mud never to be readable again. Loosing the lists and loosing a little dream.
A very big and scary change is coming in my life. I will become a stay at home mom. No office, no commute, no dead lines or politics. Sounds great, right? However, I’ll have no income and not circle of friends.
Many people have made suggestions for stay at home jobs, but I’ve been forced to be truthful with myself; I have a tiny bit of talent and a whole lot of time. I’m a maker of velvet flowers, which are nice in a way, but not practical, nor truly an art. Maybe if I learn a lot of them . . . perhaps I should make a list:
tatting - learn
bookbinding - improve
bonsai – try not to kill one tree this year
growing real roses – buy a new kind
painting – finish one.
baking – learn two new recipes
