Competition. It’s the American way. And it’s a battlefield upon which I fight with frequency, reluctance, and great melting scoops of ambiguity. It’s woven into corporate life like metallic threads in pin-striped fabric: distinctive, a little flashy, and likely to turn your skin green upon extensive contact.
I had a blast in Sock Wars 2006, where I learned that I could turn out a pair of sport-weight socks in two or three days. My second pair of socks, ever, took 10% of the time that my first pair required, and I lost much of my fear of failure in that process. And I made a couple of new friends and provided endless amusement for the muggles at work.
MUGGLE: “Please explain to me how this thing works. It sounds awfully complicated.”
ME: “OK, think of it as paintball, with socks. When you get your socks, you’re out of the game.”
That was a good-enough explanation for them, the knitting equivalent of “because I’m the mommy, that’s why”, although any of you who read this *and* play paintball [I don’t, but LittleBit has] will know that the metaphor breaks down faster than you can accidentally frog an inch of lace.
It is an excellent thing to strive for goals. I believe that we are meant to stretch and grow, to become the people that God needs for us to be, in order to bless our families and our communities. I do not believe that striving for its own sake is necessarily a good thing. It is altogether too easy to overemphasize or obsess about one small part of life [cost accounting, material success, or the latest fad diet] instead of aiming for balance [studying and application of eternal principles, peaceful family life, or a sound mind in a sound body].
All of which I will be pondering as I scramble during the next thirteen minutes, in order to leave the apartment on time. I’ve been thinking almost non-stop since I woke up this morning. It’s time to get moving.
I had a terrific weekend: a fine balance of thought, study, discussion, and motion. It has been a long time since I felt this relaxed in body or refreshed in spirit. I’m ready to get back to work on Middlest’s sock and about ready to turn the heel on my own.
It’s spring break for a lot of us. I’ll be at the office. LittleBit is picking up TexMex for the elders and dropping it off, later today, and she has booked herself solid, all week. There are opportunities for dance lessons, which I may or may not take. And on Friday there is a cultural outing with my dinner group, an exhibit of early Christian art at the Kimbell Museum in Fort Worth. And, I hope, some time with the Bitties and their parents, and my other kids. I got to pat the grandpuppy yesterday; LittleBit took her to the park with a friend but brought her over here first, so I got some puppy kisses. [Not on the face, so I was fine with that. Baby slobber is one thing; puppy slobber is quite another.]
Focus, Lynn! Out the door in six minutes, now. Reminding myself to grab one of the green shirts for St. Paddy’s Day. Top o’the mornin’, all y’all!
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!