The Informal Schedule of my day in the north woods.
1) Wake up at 6:20 a.m. (Actually, I wake up at 5:32 a.m. 5:45 a.m. 6:01 a.m. You know, think a little bit. Try not to think a little bit. Eventually get up at 6:20 a.m.)
2) Go downstairs and start the fire in the woodstove. If you’re lucky, glowing coal-embers remain, gifts from Barry’s stoking the fire late last night after you slept. This morning needed a few pieces of kindling and one crumpled newspaper to start the fire.
3) Upstairs, in the kitchen: start the water a’boilin’. Some mornings I make coffee in the $5 coffee pot we bought at the Skanee Rummage Sale five years ago. If not, Barry drinks “camp coffee”. That involves 1 heaping Tablespoon of Sumatra percolated by hot water through a coffee filter. Sometimes I drink tea. This morning drank water because I am going to lose five pounds today.
4) Set out Barry’s pills and vitamins, along with the “tubs” he takes to work for lunch. What awaits him for lunch today? A salad, tilapia fish sandwich and, gosh darn, something else, what was it? (I also pour him juice and set out his coffee while he takes a shower.) All this prevents him taking too many extra steps on his challenged knees. Good wife.
5) He leaves for work, this morning around 7:10 a.m. and I go downstairs to meditate. Except meditation wouldn’t come easily this morning. (Usually I persevere anyway, but this morning decided to blog-play!) So I came upstairs, poured a little almond milk in a cup and frothed it with one of those fancy frothing-beaters that Kiah gave me a couple of years ago from NYC and added some Sumatra java, same method as Barry in Explanation #3 up above.
6) Write a blog, feeling delighted.
7) Today is NOT my day to go to work at the school. If it were a school-work day, the morning schedule shifts slightly.
8) Yoga should follow meditation. I do slowwwwww yoga, as some of you know. Yoga so slow that you’re aware of every movement, every breath. You inhabit your body as you move, none of this up, down, fast, sweat, endure, lose weight. (Hmmm, it might be easier to lose five pounds today if fast yoga was embraced.)
9) Then I must work on township taxes & other fun things. OK, they’re not always fun. OK, receipting the taxes is always fun, but I have to do persnickity tasks like balancing certain accounts which are talkin’ back like a teenager rebelling against parents. Then must create another tax deposit, too long of a story to share, involves refunds and credits, and, oh, never mind, you wouldn’t care anyway.
10) Go scrape and brush off 2003 Buick. It’s snowing. One to six inches today. The radar looks like it could go south of us, but, who knows, might barrel over us and make driving challenging.
11) Before leaving–pour orange juice into blender, add frozen bananas, swirl. Sustenance, but not too much, due to those five pounds, you know.
12) Drive to town, carefully, mind you, and make bank deposits. Find passport in safe deposit box. Cash personal check–I mean, put it into checking account to pay for VISA bill which, yep, it’s the 17th, should come due today.
13) Come home. Eat one small bowl of brown rice with mashed rutabagas and maybe add some steamed swiss chard. OK, I know that probably sounds weird, but that’s the way I like to eat, and the rutabagas wink their orange eyes with tantalizing swirls in the refrigerator singing, “Eat us! Eat us!”
14) Now it’s afternoon. You don’t want me to go on like this for the rest of the day, do you? After all, you’ve had to read at least 600 words of my daily schedule and it’s not even 1 p.m. Let’s put it squarely. I don’t know what I’m doing after 1 p.m. It could involve vacuuming (No! Don’t say it!) or reading blog comments (Yes, today, definitely, I’m sure today) or planning how to fit too many clothes into a too-small suitcase for next week’s Destination Wedding. Perhaps it involves a brisk walk up the road if it isn’t as darn slippery as it was yesterday. Bad road. (Need snow to cover slippery ice. Heavy wet snow, none of that light wispy variety that leaves the ice dangerous beneath its fluffiness.
15) Let’s just say–crossing off more items on the to-do list while not eating anything more except a small mature dinner, maybe orzo stew or brocoli stir-fry or something exquisitely healthy?
16) Oh yes, mustn’t forget. Evening chore with Barry: filling the wood room. Our wood room contains, when full, three hefty stacked rows. We are down to the back row. The wood room must be filled to the brim by next Monday.
17) Meditate for a half hour before bed. Fall asleep between 9-10 p.m. with a smile. Good sense of accomplishment, a day filled with extra-ordinary ordinariness. Five pounds lighter, I’m just sure.
Extra-ordinary Ordinary days are the best, aren’t they? Thank you for pausing to read amidst your own extra-ordinary ordinary day… and feel free to share tidbits of your own plans or accomplishments in the comments. (Unless you’re wearing a bikini and jumping in a frozen lake today. We probably don’t want to hear about that! **On second thought, do tell us!**)