Apparently, eight years will fit in a binder.
Thank-you notes, old projects, little reminders of work I’d stopped noticing. Putting them together helped me find the words for it.
The binder I brought anyway →
I can turn a quiet weekend into a small research project. My husband has learned to ask whether I actually want to do all of it.
I’m 38, a mom, and still surprised by how often everybody needs something at the same time. I like a good outfit. I catch sleeves on door handles. I save thank-you notes long after I’ve forgotten what I did to earn them.
I believe a good plan can help. I am also capable of making a plan for relaxing, complete with things to accomplish while doing it.
I write about what happens when those plans meet a person with a full life. There are things to learn, things to laugh at, and occasionally a perfectly good afternoon with nothing to show for it.
Thank-you notes, old projects, little reminders of work I’d stopped noticing. Putting them together helped me find the words for it.
The binder I brought anyway →I wanted a restful honeymoon. My first itinerary suggested I wanted a qualification in sightseeing.
The holiday I nearly over-planned →Taking care of myself sounded sensible. Finding a place for it between everything else took a little more imagination.
An appointment with the rest of me →More things I’m figuring out, and the useful bits I keep along the way.