kellementology

life according to me

Tag: Routines

  • A battle of wills

    Wanda

    The single bark that has wakened me at 3 am five mornings in the last week sounded again this morning.  I never hesitate when I hear it and roll from bed, feel around in the dark for my sweater and pull it over my head just before heading down the stairs, feeling my way against the wall as I go.  I say nothing as I open the door of Wanda’s crate and hear her snuffling behind me as I head out to the chilly patio so she can take care of her business.  The night is quiet.  Stars glimmer in their places in a clear sky.  Even in winter, I can hear crickets in the distance.  I will admit I enjoy this aspect of a routine I want to keep from going any farther.  Getting up this early is not something I want to look forward to on a regular basis.

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  • What routine?

    A year ago January, I made a commitment to lose 50 lbs.  After five months of diligent progress, I successfully achieved a 25 lb. loss and was perfectly on schedule to make my goal, still 25 lbs. away.  But here I sit, probably 15 lbs. heavier, thinking about that and other aspects of my life which continually present challenges.

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  • Kickstarting a new routine

    Mid-week taking stock of things reveals I’m here and for the third day in a row, writing.  And clearly, writing here means I’m not writing my book, but it’s not going anywhere.  It will be much better waiting for me to establish a routine — even a glimmer of one before I sit down to finish it.

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  • Getting Organized for NaNoWriMo

    Getting Organized for NaNoWriMo

    In the last few days that I’ve been adjusting to participating in NaNoWriMo, I’ve been planning.  Thinking and planning.  Thinking, and reading, listening, remembering, and planning.  What I’ve not been doing is planning a plot for my novel. Wait.

    My. Novel.

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  • Tuesdays and Routines

    I got my wish. Greyness and clouds have blanketed the skies of Paradise the last couple of days, and although we’ll never begin to imagine the coldness much of the country is experiencing right now, 56 degrees at mid day is chilly.

    After a three day weekend, the teens were slow to start this morning during my carpool duty. It was especially quiet: no shuffling through papers in last minute preparation for a test, or talk of a recent session on XBox. Totally silent. Regardless, they’re great kids, always responding to my “Good Morning” with their own greeting, and an immediate “Thank you” as we arrive at the curb where I let them off. Even in their subdued state today, they muttered thanks and slowly walked onto campus. As I pulled away from the curb, I glanced at their downcast faces nearly lost inside the hoods of their sweatshirts, and remembered how much I used to not like Tuesdays.

    On these early days, I have time to detour for coffee before heading for work, but try not to make it a habit. I see no reason to spend three or four dollars for something I’ve already had a portion of at home before leaving, and can get free at work if I choose. If it was routine, well, then it would be a routine and not something to look forward to. Today, I did stop, though. It’s easy to tell the Pannekin was once an old house, with hardwood floors that creak as I wait my turn, and a fire that warms the room. The man and woman behind the counter are cheerful without fail, smiling, attentive. I respond to their “Good Morning” with my own, avoiding even a glance at the fresh cinnamon rolls, pastries, and slices of pie. Last Thursday, I couldn’t resist a raspberry scone, and decided that although it was quite tasty, there was no way I could get away with this business of coffee and a sweet. Oh well.

    My extra large cappuccino with an extra shot can help make my brief and rarely trying drive to work even more enjoyable. I listen to the incessant doom and gloom NPR eloquently rolls out each morning, objectively observe the drivers around me darting in and around one another in an attempt to get just one more car length ahead, and take an occasional dark-roasty sip.

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