In whatever order they fall out of my head.
***
It was eleven pm on Wednesday. I was sitting next to Kiki at the kitchen table helping her color in pictures for a school project. She had written, drawn, and lettered an entire picture book as a gift for a kindergartener. It was an assignment for her creative writing class, but also a Christmas service. Kiki had been working on the book for more than a week, ending in that last marathon day where every hour had been spent on the book. All that remained was to color in the line drawings with colored pencils. Earlier in the day Kiki had lamented the lack of a real life flood-fill. I became that tool for her. She would hand me a colored pencil and point me to a section of drawing, then I would color. Kiki would work on the opposite page, filling in the details. It was soothing, like being back in Kindergarten myself. Sliding the pencil across the pages I did not have to worry about all the dozens of to-do items from the day. They were mostly complete, this project was the last thing at the very end of the day. I could let them all go, which was good since my mind was too tired to retain much. So I colored, as instructed, until the book was done.
***
Mid-day on Wednesday I looked down at my nephew–a knee-high pre-verbal human being with big grey eyes. More than once during the day as he toddled around I would look at him and say “You need words little one.” Except he didn’t really. He was very fluent in point and grunt. We all became trained very quickly even with his mother not there to translate. He hung pretty close to me while his three siblings were downstairs watching a show. My own kids were off at school, except for Kiki who had stayed home sick. She was using her sick day to hammer through her picture book project. I’d been assured that this littlest visitor would nap while his mom was gone at her job interview. He had different ideas, most of which revolved around eating my crackers. The early stages of human development are fascinating, because their minds are so open to new stimuli without having any experience to teach wisdom. This little fellow was likely to fall off of chairs or pull things onto his head because he’d not yet learned caution or consequence. So I watched him closely, following him around my kitchen until he was so full of crackers that a nap was acceptable. Then I ran downstairs to work on shipping.
***
The phone rang again. I am the advancement coordinator for our local scout troop. It is not a job I particularly wanted, I do it as a service. When I accepted the job everyone who explained it to me was anxious to assure me that it was not too complicated and that I’d be able to handle it. I listened to all the information and did not understand why they were worried. It really did sound simple to me. And it is, because it is mostly data entry and data tracking. Except, on the night before a court of honor, I have three different scout masters calling me with last minute changes and “can we hurry and get this recorded so the scout can have a badge tonight?” Also I have to go down to the scout office to acquire all the badges and assemble them for the boys. This can take awhile when there are forty merit badges involved. All the paperwork, expense, and effort makes me think thoughts about cost benefit ratios. I understand that the point is to encourage/reward boys while getting them to learn through challenge and new experiences. I attend the court of honor. I watch my own son get his badges. I watch the faces of the scout leaders and the boys. That is when I know that for our troop, the program succeeds in getting adults to connect with boys. All the stress, paperwork, requirements, and strictures succeed in corralling adults into spending time with growing young men. That is where the success lies.
***
After the last picture on the last page was colored, I sent Kiki to bed. It was midnight. I took the book downstairs and stood at my computer to scan the pages. I pressed the book down hard on the sheet of glass to make sure that the image would have no extraneous gray. Page by page her work was preserved in digital form so that I could print out a copy for Kiki to keep. The original would be gifted to a little girl. My feet were warm as I stood, because my friend Mary had responded to a random tweet of mine by sending me the gift of a foot warming pad. I felt the warmth as I rested my head against the lid of the scanner while a bar of light passed across it. My eyes closed and I waited for the sound of the scanner bar returning to rest. Then I turned the page and scanned again.
***
I crawled into bed at 1 am on Thursday morning, carefully setting my alarm for 6:30. I forgot to turn it on. Yet my body snapped awake at 6:50 anyway, trained by months of rolling out of bed at that time. I am often tired in the mornings, but I knew I was facing the sort of day where I was only going to be able to retain a single thought at a time. So I made a list: These are things which matter today. At that early hour I knew anything which was not on the list would not happen that day. The list was my lifeline. Every time I was adrift in fatigue I would look at it and know what I was supposed to do. Help Patch with Homework. Kids off to school. Mail packages. I followed the tasks like a trail of breadcrumbs through the fog. Sleep was on the list. It was the task I was afraid to tackle because I knew that once begun it would want to consume at least three hours. The sleep was necessary but full of not-quite-remembered dreams about things to do.
***
I forgot to put “Pick up kids from school” on the list. I put “Kiki and Link to youth activity” on there. That occurred during the same time frame when I usually pick up kids. I was already twenty minutes late for the pick up when looking at a clock triggered me to remember that I was responsible for retrieving children. They were quite cheerful about it, busy playing a fun game. It is the sort of brain frazzled thing which I usually berate myself for, but berating myself is not on the list, so I can’t muster enough energy to do it.
***
On Wednesday my sister sent me a story. “Help. I need a quick critique.” It was on my list that Thursday morning, so I sat down in the quiet and read. I made notations as I read, thoughts and story structure flowing through my mind as I reacted to the words. I wished that I was not so tired, because while my critique had moments of acuteness, mostly it felt fuzzy. I love it when I can give a highly focused critique.
***
I try to do things by the rules. It saves a lot of trouble, particularly if someone checks up on something I’ve done and I’m able to spread out a paper trail of exactly how I’ve done everything correctly. However, having somebody run that check turns on the portion of my brain which obsesses about possible mistakes and then considers all possible ways to prevent those future possible mistakes. Then I have to figure out how to turn that portion of my brain off again.
***
The kitty curls up into a ball on the chair in my office. It is not the chair I use for work. She has her own chair at Kiki’s art desk. It used to be my chair. Now it is hers. Her habits change depending on the weather. In winter she sleeps indoors for much of the day and wants to pounce on things in the night time hours. I looked at her as I walked past. She was curled into a ball so tight that she resembled a tribble. I slid my hand over her fur. She made a little chirrup noise to acknowledge me, but did not open her eyes. Later she fished a six sided die out from under the edge of the couch and batted it around the room for her own amusement.
***
“My chest hurts. It’s been hurting all day.” Link said. It was not the first time I’d heard the complaint. I don’t like hearing such things because it puts me in the diagnosis zone where I have to decide what merits a trip to the doctor and what does not. Most things don’t. I fed Link some antacids and the problem went away. Time to put some antacids into Link’s backpack. Also, he might want to reconsider his diet which is made primarily of hot dogs and pizza.
***
Gleek needed a sarcophagus for the chicken that they are mummifying at school. Fortunately a plastic box was deemed acceptable. Patch needed to look up information and photographs about the Shoshone Indians. Howard found a stainless steel carabiner mug he knew would be perfect for merchandise and needed permission to spend money on new merch. The internet was aflurry with the controversies of the day, different tempests for different circles of acquaintances, each circle certain that their tempest is critically important. I read the tempests. I have opinions. I have friends on both sides of almost any issue I see. I talk about my thoughts with the people who are close to me, but hold my tongue on the internet. Someday there will be an issue where me taking a stand to declare my thoughts is more important than preventing hurt feelings. Today’s issues are not those. Also today I am too tired to explain and defend. Today I just want there to be less conflict.
***
I put the last of the calendars into a cardboard mailer. I was caught up on shipping for the first time since pre-orders opened in early November. I finally have time to consider the organization of Christmas.
***
It is late again and morning will come early.
