“Lost time is never found again.”

     Benjamin Franklin spoke the words that are the title to this post.  I've been thinking about time more than ever though it's always been something sacred to me.  I resent sleep because I believe it to be a time thief.  I wish we didn't have to waste time going to the bathroom and eating and showering over and over and over.  I love that my dvr lets me zip through the commercials and that I can enjoy a sitcom in 19 minutes or so.  Don't get me wrong I can sit in a hammock on a sunny day and feel the sun rays and breezes fall upon me if given the chance...but don't ask me to WASTE time.
     I was told it was a precious commodity.  I wasn't sure was this meant at first.  I've had quite a bit of time to think about it.  When my cat was given a month to live I treated him differently.  I made each day count.  I brushed him and gave him his favorite treats.  I played with catnip and toys and snuggled with him extra hard.  He lived well beyond a month and I was grateful for each day.  When my Mom was diagnosed with cancer the final prognosis gave me hours...days...to spend with her.  You can only imagine the pressure I put on those final moments.  But it didn't take recent deaths life changes to come to this conclusion.  I've known since childhood that time was a gift.  It has frustrated me when I saw negligence from others where time was concerned.
      Have you looked at a mirror with shock as you find those gray hairs?  How about when you realize your child is about to turn 9....you wonder who this stranger is in front of you.  Maybe you hear a song on the radio...the one that you still know every single word to...and hear the dj say the year it came out and feel the horror when you can't believe it's been 20 years.  Reunions feel surreal but so does a realization that your favorite sweater is 15 already.  We have all wondered where the time has gone.
     I'm asking you to see it for the commodity that it is.  See, I'm at a point in my life where money is not free flowing.  I can't buy you treats let alone fancy goodies.  I can't go on vacation with my children.  Sometimes I can't even come and visit because the tank of gas is too expensive.  I have given up many things.  I have sold goods and traded gold.
     Time is the key.  Time is my gift.  I can't workout at the gym for 2 hours a day unless something else suffers.  I can't play with my kids and clean as much as I need to and volunteer all at the same time.  I can't work with my forgetful Dad properly or send letters to people I'd like to stay in touch with.  I miss shows that make me laugh and have instruments that never get played.  Books and magazines taunt me.  Video games collect dust.  I'm not taking classes or working enough hours or planting the garden. I don't spend enough time with loved ones.   It's endless.  Time is precious.  If I'm spending it with you it's because I am choosing to not do something else.  If I am more efficient I can do more.  If I organize it wastes less time.  I can't rehash the past and worry about tomorrow because today is right here and I am watching it go by....as...I....type.
     For me the goal is balance.  Time well spent can mean anything as long as its valuable.  It means the mental checklist is being marked off appropriately.  Being late, fighting, dawdling, etc...this is wasting time.  If you are bored you are missing something.   I can be doing five things at once and thinking about the thirty things I need to do next.  I never want to stop learning new things, trying new foods, reading new stories...but how oh how do I find the time to do it all?  When you are single and become a couple you wonder where your time went.  You get a job and you wonder what you did before with those hours.  You have a child and then a second and you can't imagine you used to sit around on the couch some days watching silly chick flicks.  Now, as I panic at the not-enough-hours-in-a-day moments I have to catch my breath.  It is all flying by so quickly.  Ironically, I just took a deep breath to slow down and calm the panic and all I can hear is my clock ticking...reminding me of the very thing I am scared of.  With each tick...did I spend it wisely, did I do enough.  With each tock...what is next and how do I slow it down.  We can't stand at the return counter of life and get our minutes back like cash.  We can't start a time account and get back extra points.  There are no credit cards that get us frequent minutes back.  All we have is here and now and how we choose to spend, to save and to donate our time...only UNLIKE the little coffee cans that my daughter and I decorated to show her how to spend her money I can't fill my little recycled cans with time...I have to make these decisions as I go.  Maybe the photographs are the bank statements, the memories are the IRA's and the laughs are the ATM slips...

The phone is ringing again...

     It's gorgeous outside.  Snow is everywhere.  It's silent.  The phone rings at 9:07am on this holiday morning.  It's a bill collector or credit card reminding us of our negligence.  When the phone rings I cringe. 
     When you have a father who is 84 years old and has never really been "in charge" of the money you face certain challenges when his wife passes away.  The mail piles up.  The junk mail almost seems to mate overnight.  Magazines are delivered and credit card offers are still hoping for a response.  Bills need to be paid as usual.  But it's not "as usual" for us around here.  Mom is not here to open the envelopes and select which donation she feels she HAS to make today.  She is not reading the magazines nor the offers.  I spent hours working with him...explaining...helping...writing....organizing.  Days later it was as if I had said nothing.  Information was just as perplexing as before...blank stares were still present. 
     This is the new cycle.  I make a dent in the pile and the newly filled mailbox laughs at me.  I recycle a pile and another is waiting.  I call a credit card or company to explain and the phone rings yet again.  The phone ringing is not just a noise in my house.  It is a reminder of the work yet to be done.  It is a ringing out into the peace and silence I have waited so long to have.  It is a scream that my mother is not here anymore only I don't have the time to mourn because I am too busy clearing off the table that my family can't sit at anymore. 
     Today I am mad at the junk mail, the catalogs, the offers, the bills, the wasting of my time, the loss of the life my Mom tried so hard to contain and the phone for ringing and reminding me of this.  I am mad that I have to do it.  That I can't just be the daughter who misses her Mom....but I have to be the one to call and write and figure and work.  My beloved father might be the source for some of my new rants but today I will just be mad at the phone for ringing and for all that it represents.

Guilt...get the hell out of here

     I should have gotten up earlier.  I didn't do 100 crunches today.  My kid can't tie his shoe yet and he's 5.  I should have my masters by now.  I haven't worked the soup kitchen.  The living room is messy with toys.  The table is full of paperwork.  The dog should've been taken on a hike today in this beautiful weather.  I haven't figured out how to solve global warming.  UGH!!!
     I'm dedicating this rant to GUILT.  I realized this morning that when I dedicated a whole blog to anger I suddenly felt more peaceful.  It was as if I made anger into a solid ball and threw it far away into the woods.  I'm not saying it won't come back from time to time...but maybe that's the key.  Take it and kick it in the ass.  Guilt.  Damn, it plagues me.  As I just wrote this I had a huge awakening.  I will always feel guilty about SOMETHING.  Always.  Even if I do 20 things perfectly...there will be a new list of failures waiting for me with a smirk.   The spices might be alphabetized but have you seen the pantry?!? Guilt, failure, to do lists....they are endless like space.  So I spend my days feeling like I'm disappointing the world.  Personally offending it with my negligence at all turns.  Wow...I really give myself some power here don't I?  People don't give a crap do they?  So why do I?  Will you think any less of me if I watched four hours of recorded television today because I just couldn't get up?  You might...so I will explain that my ankle is still sore and swollen and it's that time of the month and I'm tired and achy.  I will explain that with work and the house and the kids this is the first time I could just be alone and relax.  I will justify all of whatever needs to be defended. Why?  Guilt. But really, who cares?  I work my ass off constantly.  If I take some time to chill I must deserve it, right? Do you sit around at your dinner table and discuss the fact that I did not paint my bathroom yet?  Bet ya don't.  In my head you do.  It's crazy girl thinking and I need to knock it off. 
     So guilt....the mean little person that you are...since I picture you sort of troll like and jerky - GO AWAY!  I will get to things when I can handle them.  I will clean when there is time but not when I have a choice to play with a kid or giggle with a friend.  I will have piles of crap that need to be put away.  Some days I will be on top of my game and rock and others I will suck but I will not beat myself up for your sake anymore.  You have done nothing for me thus far.  If this were a relationship I would laugh at even talking about you.  I would have ended it years ago.  Hmmmm, this rant thing is fun.  I feel lighter already.  I think I will take a shower now.  I usually rush through them to save the water and the soap and not to waste time, etc...guilt taught me that.  Today, I will take my sweet time.  I won't be wasteful, don't get me wrong but I will allow enough time to at least get the scent of guilt out of my hair. 

Get out my grrrrrrrrrr

   I may have a problem.   I am sitting here needing a blog to read.  I am looking for one and can't find one to quench this thirst.  I have another blog already.  It has a mission though and I am trying very hard to stick with that particular theme.  Yet I feel I have so much to say lately.  A new voice, above a whisper for the first time in a long time.  Shoot, maybe forever.  So this is my blog of rants.  I can be pissed or angry or fed up or annoyed.  I will save inspiration and growth for my other one.  This is me angry.  Sometimes.  Maybe it will be funny here and there.  I make you no promises because as I crumble I don't owe you a damn thing. 
BTW...I thank Jenne for the idea of the name as I mentioned the need to get out my grrrrrrrrrr.