Work vs Life

Sometimes I wonder . . . is work easier than life? It can be. Work, at least when we are doing it for someone else like a hospital in my case, has certain parameters. I am expected to do specific things in specific ways in a specific amount of time. Sports is the same way except perhaps more so. The rules are more stringent and the competitors become more skilled, the youngest and poorest dropping out along the way. We marvel at the fine athletes who have perfected the particulars of the expectations of their sport as we will be doing in the Olympics.

But once we leave the workplace or the sports arena, more choices open up to us, how we spend our time and money, what to eat, who to see, what to do. It is all up to us then. There are no outside forces telling us to live our lives in a certain way so it becomes easy to get lax and mediocre. We can postpone a duty that if a boss or coach told us to do, we would do. We have no human referees in our private lives. If athletes fail to play or participate within the rules or are not fit enough, out they go. If we workers do not perform as expected, arriving late and doing our work carelessly, we have the same fate. Life isn't like that. So which is easier?

Moving on . . .

I am glad I wasn’t here to see it go. Yesterday when I got home there was a void in the house, a bare spot against the wall where the piano once stood. Though I had this piano only about fifteen years it had several reasons to be special, and last week, knowing I would never be playing it again, let my fingers stumble across the keys once more as I made my way through some old sheet music most signed on top with my maiden name. The piano has sat unused for several years now, being played only when the grandchildren came. Jacob learned to play Heart and Soul on it, and the girls bunched together on the bench making lovely tinkly sounds. No more. I always thought every home needed a piano, that like books, they add warmth, character and stability to a home’s environment. But at this stage of our lives, we plan to pare down, move to a smaller place, and for me, a piano is not a necessity. Character will have to express itself in another way. It is one more thing I have let go of. I hope it will be loved and used in the little church that will be its new home.

Surviving Winter

Another soppy, dreary, freezing day. Will this winter never end! Only a couple of years ago I felt that winter had hardly made its rounds to Greenville. I remember balmy evenings, and days when the sun’s energy filled my car with warmth, and when I hoped the ground would have enough of a freeze to kill the bugs. (It’s a SC thing.) No worry this year. We have fully experienced Old Man Winter.

During this cold and messy season, I have not been keen on doing much besides staying in - except when I go to work of course - and have begun the habit of enjoying supper in the evening while watching Cash Cab. I think the show is quite popular, and I like it not just for the questions but because the show seems to treat the viewer with some respect. (Think about it.) A bowl of vegetable soup while watching something fun on television - how cozy and American is that. If the weather weren’t so nasty, I wouldn’t take the time to engage in this pleasant, comforting ritual. So it’s not all bad.

Good Sayings

"If you nurse your troubles, they will grow."

"If you want to change your world, start changing your words."

"Resolve to be tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant with the weak and the wrong. At some time in your life you have been or will be all of these."

Practice Makes Perfect

I must brag about myself a little bit though with some humility because everyone can do something well, and this is my something. Over the past few years I have become quite the pizza maker. It started from my love of playing with bread dough, adding, shaping, copying what I had seen and tasted. Though I really haven't spent much time baking since I became a nurse, it is like riding a bicycle and I can jump right back in when I have the time and desire.

I think making pizza started because the dough is the easiest to make. With some bread flour, yeast, salt, olive oil, hot tap water, a little beating and kneading and a warm place to rise, you can do anything! This morning I made enough dough for a couple of them, and while knoshing on the first realized if I had eaten it in a pizza joint, I would definitely have to come back for more. The second was just as good. It had only a faint smear of homemade tomato sauce, baby portobello mushrooms, fresh spinach, red onion, light mozzarella and romano cheeses, goat cheese and some of the dried oregano from Stu and Paige's garden. Heavenly.

I just kept at it, one pizza after another, until I became good at it. Two of my sons are also making delicious pizzas, learned from their mom. The down side is that restaurant pizza is no longer appealing. I guess I will have to stick with ordering Mexican. I am not going to learn to make chili rellenos, chimichangas or margaritas, letting the preparation remain a mystery.