Time. There is only so much of it. There is only so much of it in life. And there is only so much of it before the next “deadline” life demands. I find that at the end of the day I often have regrets about my time management. Some nights I don’t, and on these nights I fall asleep at peace with the days events and accomplishments. Then there are other nights, where I lay in bed disgusted with myself, greatly wishing I could have the day back to do differently.

The way I see it, there are two ways I regret my use of time.

One way is when I spend it doing something I expect will turn out well, but due to circumstances beyond my control it doesn’t. These time wasters are easier to let go of because I didn’t know it would be a waste of time going in to it. At the end of the day I might say to myself “I wish we hadn’t gone to the library today. Our class was cancelled and the boys were so naughty while we looked for books.” Oh well. What is done is done. I had no way of knowing it would turn out badly, so the regret is only fleeting.

But the other regrets are a little harder to cope with because they are longer lasting. Dealing with my own foolish choices is what really sours my soul. When I choose to spend my time doing something that, from the beginning, I know is useless and unproductive I feel a more frustrated regret. Those are the hours I desperately long for. Because I did know better. And I my desire to relive them is more deep because of my shame for how I idled them away.

Oh time.

I wish I felt a bit more like the Rolling Stones. I wish time was on my side. Yes I do.

The last couple years Richard and I lived in Pocatello I was working at a dental office in Idaho Falls. It was about a 50 minute commute, door to door.  I did that three or four days a week.  There were times I hated it but now looking back I miss that quiet time to myself.  In particular I miss the drive home in the spring or fall.  I would take the back roads of Idaho Falls to get to the freeway.  I would roll my window down and turn up the music. 

Everyone should do this.  It is good for the soul. 

One of the advantages of living in Kuna is that you have to drive 55mph on “country” roads to get into Meridian or Boise.

55mph is the perfect speed for rolling down the windows.  It gives a sufficient airflow to really feel a breeze but it isn’t too noisy. 

The last few Saturdays I have left the children with Richard and gone to run errands.  These days some of my most liberating moments are driving away from my house alone.  I am responsible for myself only.

Add to that liberating feeling, the beautiful 70 degree weather we had on Saturday.  

Windows down.  Hair blowing.  Good music.  Singing at the top of my lungs.

It was exhilarating and I highly recommend it.

Even if you drive a mini-van and you are jamming out to Neil Diamond and Michael Buble.

I’m one of those people who types their symptoms into the Google search box and then starts to have irrational fears about being sick with all the dreadful diseases that come up.  I am convinced the internet should be the last source to consult when your body is not well. 

But this time, it turns out, I did have what the internet diagnosed based on my symptoms.  It’s pleurisy.  An inflammation in my right lung.  Basically it hurts to breathe. So I just don’t.

Ha.

I’ve had pleurisy before. This time around the pain doesn’t seem quite as intense, but I am attributing that to the fact that I have been through childbirth three times and my perspective on pain has been forever altered.  So I tolerate it better.  But a sneeze, yawn, sigh, laugh can all cause exquisite pain.  Blowing my nose? Not an option. 

This is also a problem because one of my coping mechanisms for those difficult moments of motherhood throughout my day is to take a deep breath. 

I was feeling just a little bit sorry for myself when I thought of a woman I know.  She is terminally ill, but she is kind, unselfish and a joy to be around.  Why is it that when my body isn’t well, I am prone to self-pity and laziness?

I guess I will just keep getting pleurisy until I learn what I am supposed to learn here. 

**I am feeling much better as the week progresses and therefore do not need any comments that would validate my self-pity,  but I appreciate your sympathy.

I think I barely missed the generation of college students for whom a personal laptop is standard.  This was disappointing to me. 

I really wanted one.  I wanted to save a few trees by simply placing the laptop on my counter with the recipe window up, rather than printing it off.  I did try the running back and forth from dinner-prep to computer room but that was terribly inefficient.

I wanted one to take to bed with me on those lonely nights when Richard was out of town.  So I could read blogs until my eyelids grew heavy and then I could just close it up and roll over.  Thank goodness there aren’t any more lonely nights because that sounds like a terrible waste of time. 

I wanted one for movie watching.  I wanted one because there is just a totally tech-y feeling about having a computer on your lap.  And I just love the click-click of the laptop keyboard.  (Is it even called that?)

Although I don’t believe much in life is actually free (this laptop I currently type to you with is no exception), we didn’t really have to pay for it with money.  We paid for it with business flights and lonely hotel stays.  Richard cashed in some company credit card points, and voila!  It was a surprise to me, and Richard deserves props for speaking my love language.

Because surprises are not part of his love language. 

My dad taught me many things.  He taught me the importance of honesty.  He taught me that happiness comes from kindness.  He also taught me that you never make a meaningful purchase without first consulting Consumer Reports. 

I think Consumer Reports is part of Richard’s love language. 

So we did our research, made our purchase and I love sitting on my couch to blog.  Much more comfy than that computer chair. 

I am bragging a little bit here, but I also get to buy a new vacuum.  A new vacuum is the kind of thing a happy little homemaker like myself gets really excited about.   Unfortunately there aren’t any more employee perks to cover the cost of those phenomenal KIRBY vacuum systems.  The term “vacuum” alone doesn’t do justice to an appliance that runs for quadruple digits. 

Nevertheless with the help of CR I hope to find a vacuum to meet my hearts desire. 

Then, with my new laptop and my new vacuum I could not ask for more.

I have made an exception to my no-advertising rule.  Because it is family.

Richard’s cousin Wendy hosts scrapbook retreats at a cabin in Donnelly, Idaho one weekend a month.

Having been there and enjoyed the delicious food, pleasant company, comfortable lodging and sunny back patio myself I can personally recommend it.

See the button on the side or West Mountain Retreat.

I was informed by a Ninja Turtle expert that Shredder is the evil (human) villian and the name of the life-sized rat is Master Splinter.  I stand corrected.

While we are on the subject of cartoons there are a couple gripes I need to get off my chest.

1.  Why can’t Dora’s cartoonists draw her a shirt that fits?

2.  Curious George wreaks havoc where ever he goes, and never experiences any consequences.  The man with the yellow hat always warns him, he frequently disobeys and in the end he gets rewarded with a puppy or praise or something.  Totally unrealistic.

But then again, when were cartoons ever going for realistic?

Richard serves as the treasurer on the board of a local charity. They hold a fundraising gala every other year. Two years ago we attended as behind-the-scenes workers. We set-up, provided general assistance, and then ran the credit cards of high-rollers as they made donations or paid for the packages they won in the silent auction.

I felt like a little girl, admiring all the women in their beautiful gowns. I asked Richard if someday we would be able to attend as guests. He laughed a little and told me “Maybe.”

Well now he is on the board and he informed me a few days ago that we had two seats at a table at the event. We are going to be guests. I felt giddy and excited about dressing up and busting out these.

Not to mention I don’t drink alcohol, which I believe might be the only thing that could help me feel at ease.

And what am I going to wear?

In the morning when I go to her room to retrieve her from her crib she grins at me.

And all is forgiven.

Oh the power of that morning smile.