My neighbors came for happy hour tonight, and Jay was telling me that Susan had trimmed back the ivy growing up my wall. I protested that Greg, who keeps my yard, could do that, but she shrugged and said, "I was already there." Jay said she was compulsive, and a bit later I confessed to something that indicated I too am compulsive--which I guess everyone who knows me is already aware of.
But my self-imposed deadlines struck me again tonight with a bit of humor. I had dreaded a long weekend with nothing to do. Happy hour took care of tonight, and I invited a friend for supper tomorrow. Then I decided I have to cook an Irish supper, so I'm doing a Reuben casserole (now there's an experiment!) and an Irish potato salad. This means two trips to two different groceries, which I had planned anyway, but the potato salad recipe says, "Best prepared the day before." Well, I can't do that, but I can cook it in the morning. That makes a very busy morning. I had planned to drop some things off at another friend's house, but I emailed her that my plate was full tomorrow and I'd get them to her next week--and that's when it struck me. My plate is indeed full, but with self-imposed deadlines. Nobody else cares. If I greeted my guest at the door tomorrow night and said, "I didn't cook. Let's go out," she'd say, "Fine. Where do you want to go?" But of course I won't do that. I'll have individual casseroles waiting and that blasted potato salad. And somewhere during the day I'll set out dishes for dinner for 12-13 on Sunday (I don't have to cook, just make a fruit salad--Jordan is making an enchilada casserole for her own birthday dinner).
My first thought is how silly is that to have filled my empty weekend to the point that I feel busy?. But I thought about it some more and realized there's an upside to this. A friend wrote me the other day saying she admired my energy and enthusiasm. Well, I think energy comes from doing the compulsive things I do, from keeping busy, reaching out to friends, loving the world around me. If I'd have left the weekend empty, I'd probably have a pity party of one. So tomorrow, much as I've enjoyed sleeping late with the time change, I'll probably pop out of bed and get to the store, so I can make the potato salad--and I'll fret because it hasn't really sat overnight. Being compulsive can get silly sometimes, but it ain't all bad.
But my self-imposed deadlines struck me again tonight with a bit of humor. I had dreaded a long weekend with nothing to do. Happy hour took care of tonight, and I invited a friend for supper tomorrow. Then I decided I have to cook an Irish supper, so I'm doing a Reuben casserole (now there's an experiment!) and an Irish potato salad. This means two trips to two different groceries, which I had planned anyway, but the potato salad recipe says, "Best prepared the day before." Well, I can't do that, but I can cook it in the morning. That makes a very busy morning. I had planned to drop some things off at another friend's house, but I emailed her that my plate was full tomorrow and I'd get them to her next week--and that's when it struck me. My plate is indeed full, but with self-imposed deadlines. Nobody else cares. If I greeted my guest at the door tomorrow night and said, "I didn't cook. Let's go out," she'd say, "Fine. Where do you want to go?" But of course I won't do that. I'll have individual casseroles waiting and that blasted potato salad. And somewhere during the day I'll set out dishes for dinner for 12-13 on Sunday (I don't have to cook, just make a fruit salad--Jordan is making an enchilada casserole for her own birthday dinner).
My first thought is how silly is that to have filled my empty weekend to the point that I feel busy?. But I thought about it some more and realized there's an upside to this. A friend wrote me the other day saying she admired my energy and enthusiasm. Well, I think energy comes from doing the compulsive things I do, from keeping busy, reaching out to friends, loving the world around me. If I'd have left the weekend empty, I'd probably have a pity party of one. So tomorrow, much as I've enjoyed sleeping late with the time change, I'll probably pop out of bed and get to the store, so I can make the potato salad--and I'll fret because it hasn't really sat overnight. Being compulsive can get silly sometimes, but it ain't all bad.
4 comments:
I'm just dropping by to say hi. I read your post at Elizabeth's blog, and I followed your other blog. I don't see the follower thingie on here.
I'm a Texan, too, but I live in the San Antonio area. It's great to meet you.
Hope your potato salad turned out!
Hi, Carol. Thanks for dropping by. I don't think I have a "follower" gadget on my email. Maybe I should add one. But I always post a link on Facebook. Potato salad is still a question mark--I'll blog about it tomorrow on Potluck with Judy.
I admire the fact that you regularly entertain people with meals and friendship. That's such a terrific way to stay busy. So if that's what your self-imposed deadlines do for you, then it's a good thing, right?
Right, Suzanne, or at least I think so. My Irish dinner tonight was really good, and the table is all set for ten adults and three children tomorrow night. I admit my low back is a bit sore, but I still have a huge fruit salad to cut up.
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