27 June 2008

Making a list. Checking it more than twice.

It's safe to say that crossing things off a "to do" list is one of the best feelings ever. Whether it's a list for the day, or things to accomplish on a more long-term timeline, checking off things as "completed" - even the smallest things - gives me warm fuzzies. Most of my "get this stuff done" lists make their way to post-it notes in my quaint little cube. They sit waiting in my peripheral vision. Sometimes taunting. Sometimes nagging. Sometimes just there to subtly remind me. And oftentimes, they sit there for a while. Which makes the reward all the better when my Big Ultra Round Stic Grip (that sounds dirty) makes its way through the words.

With my age and vast maturity (ha), lists have made their way in my brain and in my brain alone. I used to be the type of person that had to write things down otherwise there was no hope of recalling the "needs to be done/bought/called." Granted, I find myself forgetting small things more frequently these days (mainly grocery store items.) But my "to do" lists don't even have to be tangible things anymore. Achieving goals now give me much more reward than they used to. Take, for example, a hiking adventure in Colorado recently to reach the top of this mountain:

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I hadn't eaten much that morning. I'm a nerd with asthma. The thin air effected me early in the excursion. But in my head, I told myself I wouldn't stop. I'd make it to the top. (When it comes to physical exertion anymore, I'm basically a wimp. Relatively, anyway. I don't push myself like I used to.) I got dizzy at times and really questioned if I'd stick to my word. But I did. I made it to the top. See?

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So what I'm saying is that I've come to appreciate accomplishments a lot more lately. Whether it's finally doing the laundry that's piled up, overflowing the brim, or climbing to the top of a mountain and to get married where there are flutes playing and trombones and flowers and garlands of fresh herbs. And dancing 'til the sun rose. And then our children will form a family band. And we will tour the countryside and you won't be invited.

(Movie quote. Thumbs up to the person that calls it.)

06 June 2008

02 June 2008

Shake, rattle and roll

I've recently acquired some new furniture. And I didn't even have to purchase it with my own hard-earned monies. The management of my apartment community was graceful enough to gift it to me. It really rounds out my place, since there are new pieces in the living room AND bedroom. (I'm a lucky gal.)

The new additions include a "massage chair" in futon form and one of those vibrating beds I thought only existed in sleazy motels in movies and cartoons. So what stemmed the atypical generosity? It seems they had a genius revelation in that industrial-sized air conditioners should sit atop one lucky apartment on the roof in my building. As you might have figured, I am the fortunate tenant.

So for anywhere from 20-40 minute increments, with no more than 10 minute breaks in between, my futon turns into a massage chair or if it's bedtime, my mattress turns into a belly shaker. Auditory ambiance is created through rattling frames on walls, track lighting and stove top burners. In addition, the more indirect rooms to receive such treatment contain an incessant, low "hum" ... if you can really call it that. You know those whistles with such high pitches only dogs can hear them? This sound is on the opposite end of pitch range, but I imagine what my ears experience is similar to that of those poor canines.

You can imagine the excitement I had to silence when I got to stay up until 4:30 a.m. last night to listen to the dulcet tones of air conditioner bliss. I had to stifle such excitement because I wouldn't want to wake anyone at that hour of the night/morning. I imagine I'm the only one who aches for opportunities to be kept up for such unique experiences.

P.S. I'm moving.