See Notes:

My latest project management/progress tracking mechanism is to put these dumb little notes all over the place.  Each one represents a task I need to accomplish before deadline, and has been placed conspicuously so that I can't ignore it.

Having lost all perspective, I don't know whether this is Organization or Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, nor do I care. 

I am really annoyed by the notes, both because they nag me, and because they occupy visual space that I need for other stuff, such as staring into nothingness.  Nothingness is of no use at all when some dumbass puts little notes all over it and turns it into Somethingness.  I predicted that this would be the case, and I was hoping that getting rid of each little note as I completed the task would be a gratifying and tangible landmark.  This was really brilliant thinking, except for one problem:  There are a bunch of things I forgot to make notes for.  So the first, like, 5 things I did after putting up the dumb little notes did not provide tangible gratification, or increase my visual space.  I'm going to stick with them, though, just to see if putting the notes into the little basket I have labeled "Done!" is going to encourage me as much as I thought.  I'll let you know.

Campbell asked me the other day what I was thinking about and I told him that I was a little worried I would run out of time for my project before getting done.  He told me that he thought I would make it, because I would "Purse Of Beer".  I knew that he meant "Persevere", but somehow the visual of a real live purse filled with beer was WAY more motivating.  If my kid believes in me, who am I to argue?  There's not much wrong in the world that a Purse Of Beer wouldn't cure. 
 

Crank It Up

I'm closing in on the deadline for samples and patterns.  It's in 14 days.  I still have a vest and a half, and a hat to knit, and 3 patterns to reverse-engineer (finished samples and cryptic construction notes are all I have to work from:  NEVER DO THAT!).  Yeah, this calls for some intensity. 

I have been fantasizing about running away to the beach to get my work done.  I am thinking jealously of Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, alone in the snowy woods, finishing her last book.  Her descriptions of the absolute solitude are haunting me.  The cacophony of my life stands in sharp contrast.  The closest thing to solitude available to me is the pocket of each night between the Smallies' bedtime and Phillip beginning to nag me that I should turn in because it's getting late.  That works out to about 3 hours:  just enough time to frog the latest disaster, but not knit back to where I should have been.  Or enough time to draw a new chart, but not find all the mistakes in it.  Or enough time to feel bad about not doing laundry, but not enough to convince myself of its priority.  Probably there isn't enough time in the world for that one. 

So what's a girl to do?  My vacation time and bank accounts are both about dry, so the beach runaway dream will have to wait.  I will find the minutes and seconds inside my days in which I can be knitting, thinking, writing and working toward the goal.  And I'll just have to crank it up.  Wish me luck.

Can't See the Forest for the Trees

Today the view from my lap looks like this:

And it's pretty appropriate, because I seem to have lost perspective on a few things.  Today's gentle reminders to myself include:

1.  I will not die if I miss my publication deadline.  I hereby declare that instead of going fetal every time I look at a calendar, I will calm the hell down and enjoy the PROCESS of sample knitting.  The sun will still shine, the rain will still fall, and the front doorknob will still come off in my hand every third Wednesday, weather or not I achieve my literary goals. 

2.  While I acknowlede that there is more in the universe than my narrow little existience, I must also resist the pull of Project Lust; the force of nature that compells me to pick this, of all times, to take up, say, papermaking or sashiko quilting, or Renaissance dance.  However focused I am on the project at hand, the instinct to begin something new gains power in direct proportion.  I will stomp on this impulse, remembering that diluting my attention is the opposite of getting done.

3.  I will be nice to my loved ones.  Phillip has filled my car's cupholders with golf balls (your guess is as good as mine).  The children insist that they exist solely to eat sugar and watch television.  Even the kittens are climbing the walls (literally, using the draperies to belay one another).  None of these things is intended as a personal assault on my well-being.  They are just life.  My life.  However bizarre it may be.  So the people/creatures I share time and space with deserve my love and patience, regardless of any other demands placed on me.

4.  If these reminders fail to work today, I will remember that tomorrow is another gift I will be given, in which to try again.