Archive for April, 2012

An Unplanned Weekend

One call is all it takes

to disrupt a schedule that doesn’t even exist

From spending time in that sterile room

to an endless night filled with spreadsheets

to divert attention from worry

I move to having the inability

to complete the things that never existed

on my weekend agenda

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The weekend is upon us once again and I have the feeling it’s going to be a good one. Husby and I got a message from God when we heard American Woman and Stranglehold within ten minutes of each other on the radio. I took it as a sign that this is the weekend to cut loose and act crazy. Throw responsibilities to the wind, just for a couple of days, and feel like you did when you were young and free.

Rock on, my friends.

Click the pic and crank the volume

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Gabbing And Getting High

Charlotte and I are at it again ~ Tennis Tuesday is back in action for 2012. Except we’re doing it on Wednesdays this year, which makes it Wennis Wednesday.

We’re not competitive ~ we don’t play actual games or keep score in any way. We just volley the ball back and forth over the net. I know you’re thinking what’s the point? Why play a game if you aren’t going to keep score? I’ll tell you why. Because moving is good for us. We do plenty of that, even if it’s just to fetch the balls we were too decrepit  lazy to return during the volley.

Another point of our trotting off to the courts once a week is to get in a little gab. OK, a lot of gab. Wennis Wednesday is about being social as well as being fit.

I’m certainly not one who exercises for the high, but the endorphins I felt after our tennis session were astonishing. It made me glad we could begin our weekly tennis/social hour a little early this year, allowing more weeks in the season for us to chat and get high (on endorphins) together. Apparently this kind of session is better for your body than chatting and getting high over cocktails.

So, yay for me and Charlotte! What are you doing to get your body moving?

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More and more I am embracing the sentiment “you can’t have it all.”  Because it’s true, you can’t.  You can’t have it all and you can’t be it all.  And when I say you I mean me.

I’ve been spoiled with time and freedom in my life.  I don’t have a multitude of obligations, I don’t have kids, I have a day job that requires no more than forty hours a week, and I have a husband who is fine with my doing pretty much whatever I want, provided I afford him that same luxury.  When I started Auntie B’s Wax I was free to spend as much or as little time with it as I wanted.

Then came my fascination with blogs.  I was reading The Pioneer Woman before she was famous.  I’m so thrilled with Jenny and her newly published book I want to take her out for a celebratory drink even though I’ve never met the woman.  Donna and her funky junk makes me want to live a completely different lifestyle, as does Corey in France.  The more I grew my business and the more I read blogs the more I realized I must be doing something wrong.

How do they do it?  Those bloggy women are running their businesses, they’re raising families, they present a blog post every day and they all appear to be clean and well-groomed individuals.  (It’s no accident I don’t post my picture on this blog.)

Here’s the thing.  If I hit the homekeeping chores in a way that satisfies me the business suffers.  If I concentrate on the business (which includes keeping my Etsy shop up to date, getting inventory ready for live shows, keeping consignment stores stocked, doing the paperwork, and actually making things to sell), as well as putting out a blog post every day, my house turns into a nasty abode unfit for any creature, human or not.

I don’t have a point with all of this, really.  I’ve just stopped by to say, hello, but I must be going now.  Off to dust off the credenza.  Off to unmold the candles.  Off to make a meal of comfort food.  Off to bead some drink charms.  Even though I know it will never happen, I want to be one of those women who can do it all.  Or at least appear so from your computer screen.

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