Time Management (a.k.a. Happy Birthday Mr. Watts!)

   

Happy Birthday Mr. Watts!

     My country-banker dad was a big fan of a guy named George Odiorne, whose claim to fame was teaching small business types how to manage their time given the propensity for idle chit chat and casual drop-ins inside a small town bank.
     I'll never forget Dad returning from a week-long seminar that prompted him to have a red light installed above his office door. The purpose, according to his management guru, was to train your workers to respect your time. Red light on? Dad's not to be interrupted. He was to take his number-crunching, customer-consulting, phone-calling time on a diet and focus, focus, focus, without interruption by well meaning employees, or casual customers all too comfortable sticking their head in with no notice just to say hey or to tell you about the fish they caught.
     Three weeks into this awkward intrusion, my best friend's 5-year-old came racing through the bank lobby, and with no notice or warning bolted straight through Dad's closed-door office.  Bless his heart, poor little Derrick (not at all familiar with the new 'red light' time-management proposition) yells in utmost excitement, "Mr. Eddie! Mr. Eddie! Look at the frog I caught with my own two hands!" 
     What followed was instant silence, as Dad's secretary, a couple of his tellers and a customer gasped a group gasp, fearing the unpredictable response to such blatant disregard from a child who never got the memo on this red light's installation or function.
     Hanging up the phone, Dad steps out of his office, looks up at the "ON" red light glowing above his door... turns to his secretary and says "Mable...call the electrician and get that dang light outta here."

     Moral of the story, some things just don't mesh with time management dictates...
     Farming falls under this category...

     One of the toughest things I've come to now cherish is how a day you think you have planned to perfection can go 180 degrees opposite on you with a change of the weather, the break of a drive belt or the sincere request by a friend for a visit. For the longest I walked around in 50 shades of guilt for times friends asked if their kids could come feed goats, or out of town guests asked to drive in for a few...Then one day it hit me: what greater compliment than kids who like you (or your kids) or friends considering this a get-away? To be clear there's always work to be done on a farm, but keep too strict a discipline and you might just miss the point of living on one.

     My last few have put what little time management talents I possess to the utmost test. A former boss passed away, and a funeral I had blocked off a couple of hours for turned into a day-long reunion with friends from decades past whose lives, like my own, have now taken on new meaning...

     My oldest niece married (sentimental unto itself) but given I spent my last summer begging folks to prayer along with me for a brother~unable to walk this time last year~ Well let's just say seeing him walk her down the aisle (not to mention that first dance)...times stands still in these moments.
   
     Sure, back on the farm there were goats to sell, and hay to get in, and the last of a garden's harvest to be picked. Add to this, a part time radio gig and new business ventures make for new and serious time commitments. And the writer in me still has her projects and her deadlines. One can't ignore these things all together if you hope to eat.

     But when neighbors call asking if their kids can come play, or a friend asks to bring someone out  with questions about starting his own farm operation, I confess life-long habits still run my mind through a mental guilt moment as I weigh obligations against life's unknowns. My "mismanaged time" gene is still firmly in tact, hurling a guilt-dart across my brain like a shooting star. But more and more these days I let 'em fade into the perfect night sky as 9 times out of 10, the "now" of these encounters will wind up replacing any such guilt into memories and moments of raw gratitude.

     My gift of the week (postponed way too long for well reasoned-out excuses of making the time) goes to my elementary school principal whose daughter found me on Facebook, and asked if she might bring her father for a visit (after more years than I care to admit here...let's just say I was 6 when I last visited HIM).  For weeks we spoke of theoretical dates, never quite getting it to ink. But when she wrote to say "He's turns 85 next week" I knew this was our chance and I was flat out honored that he might want to spend this one with me.

     To spend an afternoon in a state of total "now" ...reflecting on precious days past, reminiscing about changing tides of time...hearing what tributaries had channeled through both our lives since last we spoke...I can't imagine a better investment of time or use of a day... If you had told me at age 6 (when yes, I really did get sent to the principal's office) that one day I'd look back and laugh...
Well, I wouldn't have believed you then...and I'm smiling to be telling  it now.

     So here's to YOU, Mr. Watts ~ Happy Birthday! Thanks for spending it with me and the kids... and reminding me all over again what time and friendship and life is all about...

     (Oh, and for the record...you aren't nearly so scary as I thought :)
   
   

   

Farming and Time Management

     The day was chock full before it started.
     By nature I am an early riser, though I prefer to leave myself room in the first hour or two as my days are those I enter from a grounded, silent beginning. (Not to mention, mornings are when the best writing hits.) Of course, some days don't afford me that luxury. Today was one of those days.
     First a farm hand, next an intern, now an assistant, I am strategically adding talent to the mix with skill sets long overdue for a full time farm operation. The reason this has now become necessary? My lack of time management skills.
     For the record, I decided to start gardening for two reasons:  1) I was double dog dared to make a Southern cookbook that didn't involve heart attack food; 2) my father passed away and I didn't feel like doing a lot of things I was once driven to do.
     With these to incentivize, I came home to the town of my birth, decided to try my hand at full time country living and began this journey with some misguided picture of Henry David Thoreau's Walden years as my guide. (Granted HDT didn't have a smart phone, nor had he seen the movie Julie and Julia, but modern technology seemed a minor alteration; turns out they change the formula entirely.)
     What I anticipated were long periods of silence, meditation and reflective writing.
     What I got was another full time job added to the many hats I was already wearing.
     In a nutshell, I came home to grow a garden, take some pictures, learn to can things and get on with the next cookbook. (In case you haven't noticed, that book's not out yet. It's got a pretty cover and we know what's going in it. I've just not blocked the "butt-to-chair" time to write it until now.)
     Meanwhile, adding to the mix of selling the others (which involves warehousing, reprinting, invoicing and other lovely business things I find less fun than creating). Now I add "farming" (which at first I took on laughingly, but immediately got hooked on).
     As a matter of true confession, I will admit: I've taken farming for granted. I think our whole planet has. "The food will always be there" and "How hard could it be?" played in the back of my mind. (I didn't say these things out loud, but clearly I must've been thinking them for I had no idea how time consuming it was to become.) The good news is, I like it. And I want to do more of it. What's more, I sense the whole planet is starting to take note. You don't have to be a doomsday prepper to sense it would behoove us all to know a little more about where our food comes from and what we are putting into our bodies. After all, our survival gene was handed down. Here of late they're calling it "sustainable living".
   

Of Deadlines and Time Management

            I’m a week behind on thank you notes; 4 days behind on blogs. I’ve got cookbooks on backorder and friends I’m longing to see; but when deadlines loom, all else goes back burner…(Not the best of organizational planning, but mine for now. And  it needs help.)

           In between, I’m keenly aware that before any of this, there are goats to fee, dogs to walk, water buckets to clean….a litany of farm chores that come before anything else (living things come first; at least we got that priority straight). In short, today I feel like that frog in the boiling pot: no one small increase in the heat caught my attention, but then days like today –BOOM. It’s boiling and you start asking, “How’d this happen?”

            I keep telling myself, “Soon and very soon—help is on the way!” (though several of those afore mentioned things need completing first to keep that proposition in check). Some days it’s a vicious cycle; some days you wonder if you could jump off the merry-go-round even if you wanted to. 

            Challenge is, no one part of it alone would do you in. To the contrary, each individual, incremental project is doable and worthy of a full blown plan. It’s just that somewhere along the way, I forgot that taking on a new one, might mean slowing down or letting go entirely of another. (Instead, each new one in this scenario, only enhanced the efforts of all the others…preferably with more people involved to help out as we go forward.)

Case in point: a garden alone is a full time job. I started this little gardening proposition for the sake of a cookbook. Now I have a garden AND a cookbook, either of which is a full time job unto itself. (Thank God it’s fall.) Now that I’m in love with all my garden represents: the healing, the growing…the sustainability, the spiritual element, perhaps it's time to inventory those things going on in the rest of my life I might consider pulling back on to allow proper time for this new addition come next season. (Good in theory: instead, I'm adding gardening courses to the mix, hopeful to work with others who know more about gardens willing to network us all into more community minded propositions.)

            These are the thoughts I awakened to on a Saturday that has a “to do” list longer than most of my Mondays. When you get to the bottom, “Quit digging” they say. But if digging’s all you know, that’s easier said than done.

Rule #3 -Simplify Every Chance You Get

     Simplify every chance you get!

     For me...today...mine started with a smart phone. OK. So I'm so not recommending everyone go buy an expensive toy (check your plan). But I'd been resisting this one for a long time. Why? Because I hate new learning curves. Give me the old habitual phone format any day. But yesterday I faced the enemy (time) and I signed up for something new (which included a WAY too early wake up call to attend a class to learn said "smart phone" --) SIMPLIFY.  The competition's ad says "Simple is the new Smart" ...Well, I'm here to tell you, that's not just for phones anymore. Embrace it. Time's a-wastin' ~ Treat it with the respect it deserves.

     Adding to that are other simplification formulas I've come up with:

     1) "No" is a full sentence. (Learn to say it; that way you'll be way familiar when you need to use it for boundary-making purposes.) We take on way too much as a rule (especially here in the South...where "How can I help?" is right up there with "Bless Your Heart" i.e. it's second language for us girls in particular)...Not that I'm suggesting you don't avail yourself to helping others...Just pace yourselves ...You're of no use to anyone if you're spent.

     2) Helps to do in one step what otherwise takes two...Figure it out. I once watched a guy fill my goats' water buckets (all 10 of them) in one fell swoop. Pulled the hose right out and watered away. Twas not the way I did things. I'm more about the whole "Sorcerer's Apprentice"model. But his version saved time. Struck me like a lightening' bolt when he offered up this one. I stuck it away for days like today. Time is precious... dust it off and use it wisely.

     3) to be continued....

Time Management

            Of all the adjustments to country living, the largest learning curve of all (so large I’m still learning it) is time management. For one thing, there are so many cute things to distract (like 16 goats, 5 dogs and a cat…not counting the fish and frog…not counting the stray frogs, dogs, turtles and such that likewise grace my scene on a regular basis.). Another problem, I no longer wear a watch, and given I find sports like weed pulling and corn shucking meditative in nature,  if I’m not careful, I can lose myself for hours in the monkish chop wood/ carry water-type tasks. Another time management area -- neighbors who drop in when passing by. No one seemed to “get” how writers work. Nobody’s sitting around eating bon bons aroud here. If I’m not feeding something, brushing something, hauling something or fixing something, I’m writing about feeding, brushing, hauling or fixing…all of which makes for my livelihood so as to support my little family of 20-something. But eventually, I gave into that one as well, after all, there is nothing more precious to me than Thurman paying a visit or Miss Duff calling to share a recipe.

And then there are the friends and family you MAKE time for. You know…the ones who go out of their way to to come see you. The ones with kids who, if you don’t catch ‘em now, will soon be off to college, with you holding Christmas cards to remember them by.

            This is not a blog complaining for too little time. I have the same number of hours as anyone else. But I am mindful that here of late, most everyone I talk to these days (country or city) is struggling with time management, and God knows I could lead the brigade…but I’m not talking about that either. What I’m talking about is simple reprioritization, which lately has become a recurring theme.

            Remember when I wrote of getting more of what you subsidize? Well, I’ve decided that my friends, my family…those who reach out to say “I’d like to come see you” or “A day in the country would do me good” are a big part of the “causal” side of the whole “cause and effect” equation. (The "effect" being time with those I love, time spent with meaningful people, having meaningful conversations, forming lasting relationships.) You post a few pics on Facebook showing adorable critter faces, you should probably expect a few folks will write to say “Can I  come pet them too?” Challenge has been (so I'm telling myself), I am one person, and until I have help making sure all the rest gets tended to, stopping to unplug (as is key when someone has gone to the  trouble to load up and make the drive) …well, how do I manage this, especially when I WANT to be nothing but fully present for times like these.

This is my precious cousin, Landon, meeting his cousin, Stella, for the very first time!

            After all, books still have deadlines, bills still have to get paid…the house, yard and garden need constant attention. So far, my not-so-intentional reaction has been, shove it, stuff it, cram it in a corner, worry about it later, which means when the guests leave and I’m back to myself, a slow moving blanket of guilt and shame starts creeping back in for me not having done it all to perfection. (“It” being the housecleaning, weed-eating,  bowl scrubbing, dogfood heating…you know, those things otherwise known as life.)

            Lately I’ve caught myself complaining (mostly to my journal…now, here in my blog) for having too many friends and not enough time. Any one of them going through something and I want to be there. And if they need to talk badly enough to drive an hour getting here and another hour going home, well, the least I can do is be present and forget laundry for another day.

            I was recently asked to speak at a women’s conference whose theme was “Being Mary in a Martha World.” Great topic, btw. For those unfamiliar, it’s in reference to the story where Jesus visits Mary and Martha, and Martha (as in Stewart) is scurrying about tending to hosting duties, while Mary sits admiringly at his feet. (My Sunday School flannel board version always had Mary looking a lot like Nancy Reagan in a bathrobe.) In the end, Martha speaks up, voicing her annoyance at a sister who’s not EVEN helping out, only to be chided by Jesus who praises Mary for making the wiser choice in being fully present while she had him in her midst…Something I’m sure only added insult to injury to Martha, who was just trying to be a good Southern hostess.

            But the point of the story is as valid today as it was 2,000 years ago. There are some things for which a non-mopped floor or an unscrubbed bowl can wait~ Things like family coming to see you…or a friend who says “I need to talk.” Or the magic in a young child’s eyes when he discovers that “Goats are our friends!” on the same day he learns where corn comes from.

            I’ll probably always be mindful of the tasks that didn’t get done before guests arrive. But given I can’t (make that “won’t”) let this quirk in my wiring disrupt the more important aspects of my life, well, it leaves me rethinking the whole time proposition as I seek new ways to manage mine better.

            While far from resolved, I am aware there’s a pea under the mattress of my life. My job? To start removing the layers till I discover why it’s there and what gift it brings…