Hypocrisy and Writer's Block7:30 AM
My mother realized that me being promoted to a Raising Homemaker contributor was the best thing that could happen to her. What better motivation could a daughter have to help out around the home than an obligation to write articles on it? "Write what you know" - so the saying goes. Ideally, then, homemaking and I shall know each other very well now.
For I must write something - and I have many different theories and untested philosophies that sound stunning on paper. (Whether they work in real life or not, I don't know. I haven't really found time, between speech contests and sleeping in late, to try them out.)
While I don't profess to being the most diligent homemaker-in-training, I will stick up for my hypocrisy-o-dometer. It's very sensitive. I'm keenly aware of the fact that I need to get my act together before sharing my wisdom...something like hitching the cart to the horse and not the other away around. So here is the ultimatum for me: I give up writing on homemaking or I learn how to make a home.
I take the latter.
It's resulted in cleaning up after everyone at lunch, popping dinner in the oven, doing extra laundry and waking up at 7 o'clock sharp every morning. It means flat feet aching after preparing supper (and listening to the local radio). It means messes, new experiences and this wonderful sense of accomplishment.
(Want to know a secret? If you want to feel good about yourself, deep clean your desk. Seriously. You'll feel like a whole new person. Organized. Efficient. Collected. It's brilliant.)
Furthermore, it's led to expanding my interests outside of the internet and email. I even painted a rock the other day. Green. (It was a yellow-bellied, one-eyed monster, and yes, I am normally normal, except when I'm not.) Due, then, to the fact that I spend my afternoons finishing up a tea towel embroidery that I start back in August or yawning - er, reading - through St. Augustine's Confessions, I haven't had much energy to write down my blog ideas. Oh, to be sure, there's a whole glut of them in the back of my mind, banging around and clamoring to get out.
But want to know another secret? I learned while making enchiladas and listening to In the Market that more than four hours a day of screen time increases the risk of heart failure. That's, um, kept me away from the computer more than usual. Oh - is that the time?