Barefeet, Office & Home

I tend to run around barefoot.  Whether I’m working in the garden, picking up around the house or office, or working — especially working — my feet are FREE!  Now, outside, this addiction to bare toes sometimes winds up netting me a thorn or two, but I do it anyway except when shoveling in the garden or working on the barn.  At the office, I sit cross-legged in the chair, and shoes and sitting like a toad on a mushroom just doesn’t work.  Of course, invariably, someone walks in and insists on a face-to-face.  So here I am, dressed in “comfort” clothes — nice comfort clothes so I can do lunch with a client at the high end of the dining spectrum — and in walks Mr. and Mrs. Suit, usually suburban, totally and completely at ease in antiseptic environments, and they want to meet ME.

Quick toes reach desperately to dig out my slouch-arounds tumbled way back under the desk.  Slide them on as they walk through the door, barely getting them locked on my feet as I rise to meet and greet.  Even then, though, I see the look cross their faces — she’s in casuals.  Uh, yeah.  I’m all for efficient, and comfort makes efficient better.  Really.

Glorious Morning

I sit on the steps outside watching morning.  Big thunder heads — their tails — make sunrise into glory light, while birds sing, a coon walks by, and Spitty Kitty races for the house, hoping she’ll convince me to feed her an early breakfast.

I get up early.  Usually around 3:30, 4:00 AM.  I love morning.  Mom said I was always a “morning child,” tough on a mom who still likes to stay up all night, then sleep till noon.  I used to drive her nuts, creeping down the stairs at daybreak’s faintest glimmer.  Hubs is like that too.  He groans when, waking, I bounce up, throwing the covers, treading nimbly off the bed to dash for coffee and fresh air — even fresher than that coming in through wide open windows all around the house.  Gawd, I love the morning!

It’s About Time…For Me.

All my life — yes, all my life — I’ve done things for others, deferring me, mine, and I.  That’s changing.  Now.  Now I am living the rest of my life, not for me, but as me, caring for myself and my expressions as thoroughly and meticulously, with as much dedication and as much effort, as I have expended on everyone else’s projects, desires, dreams.  Now my dreams count…for me.  And it’s about time, too.  I’m running out of life, out of time. (No, I’m not planning on kicking the bucket, but, often, one doesn’t get to plan these things, you know.  I could be killed by lightning or swept off by a tornado (Yes, we have them in Sandpoint.).  I could be hit by a truck (Why are they going 55 in a 25 zone?).  I could be assaulted by a grizzly bear while hiking.  (I’m an alpha, and grizzlies know it…and don’t like it.)

So, now I do me.  And you and yours come second, unless it’s life-threatening.

 Sound like the “Me First” syndrome?  Hardly.  I’ve spent my ENTIRE life up till now putting all of you first.  I deserve some time for me now.