The Shed Notebook: Procrastination Expert

Remember the basement project I talked about yesterday? The project I wanted to complete today?
It just didn't get done. The illustration above was not done by me, but a few of the examples could be true.
I think a nap sounded nice. The cats and dogs all needed my love. I had to go next door to visit my brother to make sure he was alive and well. I couldn't leave my competitors on Words With Friends and Trivia Crack waiting for me all day. Oh... and then I needed to read the paper, browse through a new catalog, and read the grocery ads. Just when I was about to head down the basement I just knew I would feel better after a nap. Then I had to find a missing document and navigate the Social Security website . (Feel my pain?) Guess what? Then it was time to think about dinner, then do the dishes, then feed the cats, then write a blog post. Sigh. I did just check though. No crisis. It is all still waiting for me in the basement.
If you need any tips on procrastination I think I have reached expert level. Just ask away.

The Shed Notebook: The Story of the Basement

When we moved to 514 the basement became the place to put everything we didn't know where it should go. The basement has a bedroom, a pantry, and a place to do laundry, and a whole bunch of other space. This space has been filled with boxes, tubs, bags, and misc. furniture.
Once we decided the purpose of The Shed, all the craft items and other tubs and boxes of "stuff" found there way back to the basement.
We laid down the carpet we claimed from Mom's living room. We found a great chest of drawers at a local second hand store, and moved other furniture to the basement that had been other places in the house, shed, and garage.
Let's just say it has been a slow process. I worked gung ho one week-end, then got busy with The Shed. I think tomorrow is going to be Basement Day. I have set a goal to get the craft area organized, the pantry useable, the boxes and bins put away, and figure out how to get lots of other "stuff" back upstairs and out to the truck to head to the dump.
The collage above shows the chest of drawers that has gotten organized a bit,  the wall that stores wreathes, the chair that needs fixing, and the pantry which has been started. I hope to do some after pictures very soon. Junebug found a tub of pillows that is working well for her bed.

52 Cups of Poetry: Poem #2 : Near the Window

My brother discussed music on his blog this morning, which then caused interesting comments to pop up about the types of music we love and remember from our youth. You can find his post here.

When I was reviewing my collection of poetry I had written through the years this evening I came across the poem below. 

I now live next door to the room with the window. . My brother lives in our childhood home so I can still climb up the stairs, sit by the bed and look our the window. The stereo is gone, the old typewriter is gone, the Nancy Drew books are gone,but I can play that music on Pandora, search for poetry on my computer, use the flashlight on my phone, and read Nancy Drew on my tablet. I just might have to go next door and do that. 

However, I would rather do it like the old days.

Near the Window

 The lamp near the window glowed long into the night,

the wonder of words kept me turning the pages.

Curling up with Nancy Drew, Bess, and George

created a life of intrigue and mysteries to be solved.

Finding poetry at the public library and saving words

as I hunted and pecked on the manual keys.

The stereo filled the hall room with beautiful sounds.

I wore out certain songs as I listened again and again.

I joined the Broadway cast of My Fair Lady and Oklahoma too,

and The Ray Conniff singers backed my up on Somewhere My Love.

How many times could I repeat Three Dog Night singing One

While belting out the lyrics with a makeshift microphone?

Near the window I could breathe in spring,

In winter the panes frosted, then melted in a thaw.

If opened in summer a breeze gave a small reprieve,

Burning leaves crept in at the closing of fall.

The neighbor kids gathered for Kick the Can or Spoons, but

 I cocooned myself in my bedroom upstairs.

Finding comfort near the window with my pile of books

Broadway seemed visible, images from poems remained.

I didn’t pine away about a misspent youth.

I still carry the words and remember the poetry,

And l hear those melodies when I

sit near the window in my childhood room.

Christy Woolum

Fifty-Two Cups of Poetry: Poem #1: Not For a Year

Recently my friend Teresa recommended a book to me called 52 Cups of Coffee by Megan Gebhart. She had heard the author speak and was inspired by the idea of finding something to do each week for a year. In the book Megan found strangers and sat and had coffee with them. Her book is filled with stories of the people she met. You can learn more about her and her book here.
Teresa and her husband decided to try a new recipe every week. I really loved that idea. I shared the book with my sister Carol and she suggested an idea for us. How about writing a poem every week? I knew I wanted to get back to writing as more of a ritual. I loved this idea. I am a bit behind, but will catch up.
The book I read for inspiration today as I composed my first poem was "The Poetry Home Repair Manual" by Ted Kooser. Kooser has had a huge influence on my writing. You can learn more about him and his books here.
Here is what I composed for Week 1. Kooser's Chapter 8 "Writing from Memory" provided ideas.

Not For a Year

I didn’t feel her death would come for a year.

There would be time for advice on growing bigger tomatoes.

I would learn what to do when my toenail fell off.

She would remind me patiently and expertly what each pill was for in my box.

Black Friday would find us side by side on her bed ordering gifts online,

And then she would walk me through the directions

for making her prized fruit cake.

I would get better at maneuvering her wheelchair,

I would stop finishing her sentences,

I would also remember to bring the socks, her purse, and the mail,

And not forget to read the obituaries ahead of time.

Fruitcake didn’t get baked before Christmas.

Angels are now adorning the shelves of people she loved,

Her daughter wraps herself in a bright -colored buffalo checked flannel shirt,

We say toast after toast as we smile through tears,

remembering a life well-lived.

Christy Woolum, Janurary 28, 2018

The Shed Notebook: Saying Good-Bye Over and Over

I recently had a birthday and turned sixty-three years old. I don’t dwell much on the age I am as much as I dwell on what aches and pains may continue, blood tests that may show my systems are falling apart, or not having the energy to stay up to read my new favorite book.
What I didn’t expect or even think about as I moved into my early sixties was how many people would die. I understand nobody lives forever, but suddenly I experienced the death of my mother and another close friend shortly after. I have been sending cards, praying, and sharing words of comfort with so many people in my age group who have also lost loved ones recently.
This is what we do at this age. We hold on to memories, wipe away the tears, and say good-bye over and over. Each person I am thinking of lived a full life. We celebrate what a beautiful life the person lived, but then I start noticing a hole. A hole that can’t be filled. A hole filled with memories, but also grief and sadness.
This quote helped me today: “I am always saddened by the death of a good person. It is from this sadness that a feeling of gratitude emerges. I feel honored to have known them and blessed that their passing serves as a reminder to me that my time on this beautiful earth is limited and that I should seize the opportunity I have to forgive, share, explore, and love. I can think of no greater way to honor the deceased than to live this way.” Steve Maraboli

The Shed Notebook: The Beginning

Now that we have The Shed, I hope to spend more time at my writing table composing this new feature on my blog. I will be honest and say I am not out there tonight, but am sitting at another desk in the warm house.
How did The Shed get started? We discovered shortly after we moved to 514 we needed another space. We had driven by many of those shed places around the area.

 We found one in Pinehurst that had been returned. It looked new to us, but it was a better price. The company somehow figured out how to plop it in the backyard right where we wanted it. At first the plan was to use it as a potting shed/greenhouse. I also thought about it being a craft shed. While we were deciding it became a holding spot for all the junk we couldn’t find a place for in the house. It also added beauty to the backyard landscape.

Last fall I got serious about researching sheds. Yes, many thought is should be a “She Shed”. Others thought is should be a “Man Cave”. I found a nice collection of books at the library and relied on Pinterest to inspire me with ideas for what we wanted. 

I knew I wanted a quiet place to read and write. I also knew I wanted a place for serving meals, since we took the table out of the house. JEJ was in agreement. I think his “Man Cave” is the garage right now. I moved the craft mess to the basement and am working on creating the craft room. We didn’t want to invest a huge amount of money We found a crew of two guys that installed electricity, painted the walls, and made it much more comfortable. We had all the furniture and some decor ready to move out there. When the weather warms up, plants may be added to The Shed. Certainly the books to inspire me about gardening will be housed there. It is finally finding a purpose. Oh... and it is a dog hangout also! 

Now that we have The Shed fixed in a way to use, I hope to spend more time at my writing table composing this new feature on my blog. I will be honest and say I am not out there tonight, but am sitting at another desk in the warm house.