Finding Time

I have a small white dry-erase board I keep at my desk. On Thursdays, I write every assignment coming due from my classes for the next week. This is especially important for the weekend, which, for me, goes from Friday through Monday, as that is when I have the most work to do.

When I wrote out my assignments for this "weekend," I thought, "I will never finish these by Monday." But, because I take this seriously, I knuckled down and started reading/grading assignments. Thursday, I spent most of the night trying to catch up with things students sent me that they should have sent earlier. Friday, I graded a set of freshman essays. Saturday, I read a set of Eng. 226 drafts, then graded a set of reading journals. This morning, Sunday, I posted scores for a quiz, read two sets of blogs and posted those grades, and handled assorted other assignments. I have a set of assignments for a freshman class, portfolios, and a quiz left to grade. I'll tackle the freshmen assignments in a few minutes; I'll save the portfolios and Eng. 215 quiz for tomorrow, which should leave me some time to mow the grass, and take care of household tasks.

As I complete my tasks, I give myself a break. Sometimes, I'll watch a movie; sometimes, I'll go outside and sit for a while and watch the birds. Today, I went out and set up my new composting box--I put in a bottom for it, then shovelled in the compost from the heap in my yard. That wasn't the most relaxing break, but I accomplished something, at least.

Every time I tell myself, "I don't have time," I need to look at my white board and remember how I handle tasks. I have as much time as I make, as long as I plan well.

On the Blog, Again...

I haven't written here for a while--I guess life just overran everything! Summer wasn't that busy or exciting, unless I count my first driving experience in Houston (awful) and the trip I took to Colorado (excellent). My parents' and my brother's illnesses and operations dominated the months from May to August, and that's not something I wanted to write about at the time.

It's hard for me to realize how much time has passed for me. I am reminded, though, each time I look at my parents, or send a birthday card to one of my children. My son will be 30 this year; I can't believe that. My mother will be 80; that's even harder to believe.

Of course, as they get older, so do I, but I can't grasp that, either. I don't feel my age, except on those days after I've overdone it in the yard or the house. Some days, I feel my age. Most of the time, though, I don't.

I suppose the adage, "You're only as old as you feel," is true to some extent. But, then, I think that our physical age can't be ignored. If I have "three score and ten" years, I'm staring at the short end of a life. I prefer to not think about it, though, and just live as though I have unlimited time. I'm not sure that's the smart thing to do!



On a happy note, here's a random photo to cheer us up. Coushatta after a rainstorm!