Wednesday, August 9, 2017

A Perfect Day?

Should you ever ask my mother, the problem-solving and solution-obsessed Aries (Aries rules the head, therefore dilemmas swirl like hurricanes in their heads until they are conquered), for guidance with a problem, she would eventually challenge you to one of her favorite exercises.  To describe—in vivid and obscene detail—your perfect day.  My mother is painfully and excruciatingly detailed.  That energetic gold-green punctuated by chalky white speckling Granny Smith (named for Maria Ann Smith, hybridized in Australia in 1868) didn’t fall far from the tree with me.  So perhaps that is why it’s so effective.  But basically, you map out a day—when you’ll wake up, how long you’ll stay in bed before rising, etc—no detail is too small. 

Do you suppose this buck knows his crown puts him at risk? Uneasy lies the head...
What this never fails to do is remind you that there is no greater luxury than time.  As you go through your dream day, you don’t say I wake up and check my Rolex for the time and hop into my Range Rover for some bourgeois coffee.  It’s all about time.  And as you say things about what you might do in this dreamy, perfect day, you more or less realize they’re easy things.  Universal things.  Some of us love to spend time in the garden first thing in the morning, or commune a bit with nature and our dog.  These things are about having and making time more than they are about anything else.  My perfect day often includes an early rise, my normal coffee and f-e-t-c-h routine with Barbie, and then shopping for ingredients.  A day that is free needs structure for me.  Cooking is obviously how I prefer to create this. 
At this magical time of year, when everything is so abundant and fresh and you can taste summer in thousands of ways, nothing is more inspiring than the farmers market.  What could be the repulsive piecemeal perfume of sticky peaches--and torn corn silk--and pungent onions too fragile to have the dirt brushed off them--all somehow blends beautifully with the overnotes of fresh tomato.  On my dream days, it’s this time of year. 
Much to my delight, my friend Elizabeth of Frontier Farm needed some help at last week's farmers market. I helped her in
the first busy hour of the market.  I think working an hour at a farmers market now qualifies me as a gentleman farmer, right?

It’s been a very busy, wonderful summer.  I just haven’t had the time for a Saturday like this yet.  So with last Saturday completely untouched, I decided to officially close my schedule for the day and take it off.  This is hard to do when self-employed, but important from time to time.  It was kind of the light at the end of the tunnel for what I expected to be a rough week as my little relationship burned out. And it kind of was.  Not bad, but you know there’s always lots of feelings to sort through.  Especially for me because I am so fucking sensitive.  So as I spent the week luxuriating in the melodramatic decadence of heartache, I delighted in thinking of Saturday. I am full-bore on my real estate classes and almost finished here in Ohio.  I have a very promising prospect in Hilton Head that would involve three properties for one family.  So I’ll be deep in classes and testing over the next two or three months and am very excited.  Well by Friday, I was seeing my own absurdity.  That’s always a good mile marker to reach, in my opinion.  When you can look in the mirror and tell yourself you’re full of shit.  Things are more or less back to normal. 

Then I went out to get the mail.  I was expecting one package but there were two.  Shiiiiiit.  This usually means two nights ago I was typing in my Amazon password with one eye closed and wine mouth.  What could it be?! Except I knew that wasn’t it cause I didn’t have time to drink the week before (I know, tragedy).  It is rare to get a truly unexpected present.  About this time last year, I ordered a gravy boat on eBay.  The next day the seller sent me a refund and said actually it had chipped so she didn’t want to send it.  She relisted it discounted, but I just moved on in my search.  So I come in and kind of nervously open the box to find that gravy boat and a note.  What a pleasant surprise.  This set the tone for the rest of my weekend.  I had a fabulous time.  

So, tell me, what's your perfect day?