I awaken feeling remarkably well with just the few hours of sleep under my belt and I take my time going through the morning routine for a change, since no pressing matters are awaiting my attention on this particular day.
As hoped, the wind during the night has chased the clouds away, bringing another sunny day for me to enjoy right here in the midst of November. It is still chilly, what with the wind continuing to blow, but I don’t mind, really. Wind I can handle well enough as long as the clouds and rain stay well away.
I go to the house a little late, feeling up to attacking the boxing bag for a change –the day of rest I took yesterday has allowed my body to reclaim some of the energy it desperately needed– and throw myself into the exercise wholeheartedly. It is a good day for kickboxing, I find, throwing all my efforts into the attack on the unwitting bag that creaks and whines with every swing, punch and kick.
For the next forty minutes the bag bears the brunt steadily until at long last the session is over and I head for the shower before the day’s chill, starts to work into my warmed muscles, setting a base for severe stiffness and soreness. Pleased that today’s routine went so well, I pay little head to the used feel in my limbs and rather than starting up the computer immediately I set out to hang laundry, instead. I actually enjoy it, since the air is fresh and clean, while sunlight falls through the open center of the covered courtyard.
What with washing machine having been on the fritz for the past few days, the dirty sheets and clothes have piled up in the laundry room, warranting a few extra washes –and thus more hanging– until once again the stupid machine refuses to start.
After filling half of the huge amount of lines that take up part of the courtyard, I ask big brother to look at the washer later, while be both sit down for today’s session behind our computers.
For ten pages I immerse myself into the fantasy world of the Ashtah-Mahk, realizing that today would have been better spent with physical activities rather mental ones. By the time dusk starts to fall I am feeling a certain sense of disquiet fall over me, and shut down my computer in favor of making today’s dinner, if for no other reason than to keep busy.
After a quick foray into the recently refilled cabinets I decide on Pizza pancakes for all, and, with little sister’s aide, start chopping vegetables and the likes to add to the batter and herbs that soon fill the house with a most delightful scent.
The thing I like about pizza pancakes is that they are easy to prepare and leave very little to clean up afterwards. Two skillets, some leftover veggies to dispose of and that’s it.
It’s as easy as throwing all components in a bowl, mixing it up and throwing patties into the heated skillet until there’s enough for all.
It is also a filling meal, one pancake each and hungry stomachs have had all they need for the rest of the day, leaving everyone content and stuffed.
I dawdle a bit after cleaning up and doing the dishes by lounging in front of a boring movie playing on TV, and then chase big brother and mom away from the table so I can paint the last drawers of the new kitchen.
With two of the recently constructed drawers receiving their third and final layer of deep-red paint, and two are covered with a gray –now pink, because I hate to waste to rollers on one painting sprint- the new kitchen is coming close enough for me to feel the exciting sense of anticipation. I can hardly wait for the REAL project of replacing the old with the new, starts.
The painting done, I clean up the mess I’ve made, spray my hands and arms liberally with turpentine and soap, while talking with big brother -who is diverting his time between working on the washer and two episodes of recorded “Prison Break” playing on TV- about our plans for the kitchen, before the night begins to draw to an end.
A final half hour of “Frasier” and his insane mental state is the last bit of entertainment in the main house, and with the three younger sibs preparing themselves a late snack, I gather my dogs and follow them up the mountain.
The wind is blowing full force again, tumbling down from the north, the way it usually does this time of year, making Goosebumps break out on my skin well before I reach my cabin, which bears the same temperature as the outside with a medium of 10 degrees Celsius.
Hurrying through feeding my pack, and changing into my pjs, which I rapidly cover up with a warm woolen vest that reaches well past my knees, I enjoy a quick read before settling on the bed, wrapped in blankets until I resemble a pile of colorful fabrics thrown together.
For most of the day I’ve been thinking off and on about the Amazon discussion forum where a dare was made for those who could write down the grossest thing they could remember, and I finally decide on a particular event that occurred when I was a preteen and our dogs got into the chicken run.
I actually have to smile when I think about how I’m fussing about such matters, when it really is just about having fun with a warm group of people that come together on-line. It is just such a pleasure, participating in the “Kill The Thread” that I’ve almost forgotten that it all started as a contest for a free book.
It is one of the things I like about the Internet, in particular if I forget about the annoying ads, spread all around, the porn and God knows what else defiling a rather wonderful way to communicate with people all over the world.
I’m still relatively new to the Net, really. I think it has been only three years or so since I actively began to participate in the variety of communities that are spread out all over the place.
Which brings me to spamming. I don’t get it. Everyone knows that EVERYONE hates it, and yet those ads, commercials, scams and whatnot keep coming, no matter what.
Why ruin such a marvelous place with file pictures and silly money offers? What is the fun of it? All over the place more and more security measures are taken, making the entire experience a lot less pleasant for those like myself who just want have some light conversation with interesting people.
It’s a shame really, how everything at some point always corrupts. It makes me wonder if it is human nature: To corrupt and destroy the world in which we live?
A scary thought, really, in particular when that same drive to destruct seems to percolate into every little niche of our reality.
Politics, media, Hollywood, and everything in-between: It’s there. The potential of actual destruction of all we hold dear. All appears to come down to a simple equation, quality over quantity.
Products need to be there in enormous amounts for as little money as possible, resulting in affordable machines that “die” well before they should. Cheap clothes that are stitched with thread that breaks when you blow on it. Shoes that fall apart after just a few months right around our feet: It’s easy, but also a terrible waste.
Where are the objects of the past that could be passed down from generation to generation? Yes, we have everything our greedy little hearts want for reasonable prices, but for how long?
Growth (=quantity) is promoted constantly; while the experts claim that without it economies cannot thrive, but realistically how far can something… anything grow before tumbling down to where it started. It is like the saying, “what goes up, must come down”. It is a basic truth that can perhaps be shoved further ahead –for a while at least– but it will never go away, no matter how far advanced technologies take us.
The most disturbing part is that this quantity VS quality issue is such a big part of daily life.
The biggest example being, that life should be prolonged and treasured, whether that life if generally wonderful or generally miserable. No distinctions are made, no debate welcomed since this is something that no one can really touch… if one even wished to do so in the first place… without calling forth a barrage of disagreements from every corner.
Personally, I rather look at the quality of something. An action taken, something created that will last a lifetime, if not longer. Quality makes one treasure something, nourish it and most importantly enjoy it to the fullest extent.
Without quality the quantity is just an endless game of catching up.
Well, this certainly concludes my thoughts for the day. Time to call it a night and turn in, the new day will be here far too soon.
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