See, I have never held down a 'regular' 9-5, Mon-Fri job. Whatever odd job I may have had, weekends were not sacred. Especially as a horsetrainer and as a writer. Those two pretty much keep you working any time, day and night. Untill a few years ago, I basically worked 6 day weeks most weeks.
When you are a horsetrainer, people want lessons on weekends, or you are off to horseshows or clinics. If a horse is lame or ill, he doesn't care what day of the week it is, he is going to get his caretaking no matter the day or time. When you are a writer, your brain is constantly working and inspiration strikes at the strangest of times and you soon learn the folly of thinking you'll remember later. You better write that ingenious line down, day or night, or it leaves in a huff, never to be written.........
Over time I learned I had to pick a day and call it mine or I'd soon be running on empty. I needed a day all mine to sleep all day, read a book, take a walk or watch TV and do laundry or nothing at all, stare at the ceiling all day with my eyes shut. Not to be confused with napping.
That day is Sunday, the only day I can psychologically turn it all off, more or less. (Only animals need apply for attention.) So now you know why Sunday is for piddling.
So I've been piddling. Oh, I love piddling. Piddling around and doing this and that, such and such. So you're wondering what piddling looks like? Well, let me show you.
Piddling may start something like this - once a person is upright and confirmed conscious:
Cooking a rhubarb-strawberry compote like my grandmother used to make.
(It tastes way better than it looks in this photo. I guess The Food Photo Agency won't be calling me anytime soon. Still, I copyrighted it because then it looks like it's better than it is.)
Hanging a birdhouse I have been meaning to hang for, ohhhh, 6 months? I can see it from my desk over my left shoulder. Would be neat if a bird moved in.
It would have food and water and even it's very own windchimes to lull the chicks to sleep.
That was also part of my piddling today, you see, cleaning birdbaths and reassigning an old chipped plate to birdfeeder...
Moved a flowerpot I have wanted to move since I planted a hibiscus a week ago....so it would be out of the wind and in front of my window where I may enjoy it daily...
I am forever pestering my dogs, trying to catch that one pic that defines them. However, they are reluctant models. All but Bella, that is. She considers herself the Naomi Campbell of the dogworld and struts her stuff every chance she gets. But today belonged to Dallas (whether she liked it or not)!
Then I piddled around and played with my new macrolenses. They are really kicking my photographer bootie trying to get it right, but I won't get all technical on you - suffice to say it's fun getting really close to tiny stuff and sometimes I get it halfways right.
Dead beetles can be kind of fun, and they sit blessedly still, a major plus when you are shooting in macro...
Now, the common dandelion is actually quite extraordinary when you get close to it...
And the wisteria will be a forever favorite, from any vantage point....
Oh it's just so pretty, let's do one more....
Oh, what's one or two.....or three.... between friends? I just couldn't choose...when I'm piddling, choosing is just too much like work.
And last but not least - a little old sagebud...
But now, I have to say, I am feeling rather disturbed. For all my talk of piddling, this blog now makes it look - and me feel - like I have been awfully busy all day. And God Forbid, here I am at my desk, typing away on a Sunday eve.
Funny how that piddling around can add up.
No comments:
Post a Comment