WRH

Surprise Me

One of my favorite books growing up was Cheaper by the Dozen, the true story of the Gilbreth family, 12 children and their efficiency expert parents. The dad in the story was obsessed by making every task as quick, fluid, and routine as possible in the interest of saving time and money.

I get that. Particularly during weeks when it seems like everyone in the family needs to be in a different place at once every hour of every day, house projects are in full swing, work is heating up for both parents, somebody needs baking soda and Poprocks for a science experiment, we are three days behind in practicing one of three instruments, and nobody can remember the last time somebody ate a green vegetable.

But. I hate routine.

Hate. Loathe. Despise. My personal goal is not to have a fulfilling career, usher my children into self-sufficient, well educated, and happy adulthood so that I can retire, it’s to have a fulfilling career, usher my children into self-sufficient, well educated, and happy adulthood so that I can stop doing the same damn stuff over and over again most days of the week.

Mind you, my job is great in that I am challenged in new ways and there is variety in my work life. It’s the making lunches, finding work clothes, set the alarm, drive here, drive there, meals on the table, do the homework, bed at this time, wake up at that time, follow the same pattern all the time because there just isn’t room for any meaningful variation THING that makes me feel like I’m going to scream.*

This explains my weather fetish. I’ve been known to read up on the weather blogs. Yes. There are weather blogs. Not just the weather channel. Or weather.com. Or Accuweather. Yesterday it was supposed to snow here. And it didn’t. Not even a flurry. Beginning last week, there was big buzz in the weather world about this storm. The forecast over the past week changed every hour or so, and I tracked every single alteration. A weather event = change in routine. A big weather event = big change in routine. Big weather event = big change in routine = Me = happy.

I was supposed to wake up today to a wintery world, at least briefly changed from the ordinary to something other than that. Maybe complicated or messy or problematic, but certainly different.

Yet:

Routine.

*I totally reserve the right to whinge about how much I miss this stuff when my kids are grown up.

Blessed are the Cheesemakers

I spend a good part of my work life trying to convince the under 18 set that they don’t need to know what they are going to do for the rest of their lives RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT, that it will all come in time, and that what they need to work on now is learning how to learn. Of course, I spend the rest of my work life trying to convince the under 18 set that, holy Hannah, they’d better get their butts in gear and figure out what the heck they are doing with themselves because the clock is ticking.

Clearly, I’m a pro.

I am lucky in my job, and I know it. Even though I come home tired and sometimes burned out, my days are never the same and most of the time I can honestly say I love what I do. I am rarely bored, and I am surrounded by smart people – most of them more than half my age and honest enough to tell me that my taste in music sucks but they like me anyway.

Wouldn’t it be great, though, if we could all live by that maxim that directs us to figure out what we truly love, then find a way to make a living at it? Nobody has yet to offer me a full salary to lie on the couch wearing pjs and reading, though I’m keeping hope alive.

How about writing and cheese eating? These people features in the New York Times food section nailed it. Click to read on… “In the Dairy Case, Ripe Prose.”

Surprise Me

Blessed are the Cheesemakers

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