An Interesting Way to Spend a Vacation

So I have just about two weeks off now.  I'm on vacation.  But we haven't gone anywhere .... yet.

That's right, we're right here in town.  We're leaving town on Monday.

99.9% of the time, when we go on vacation, we go somewhere else.  Though our family did not travel much on vacation, I was told in seminary that it's important for pastors too get away when they get time off, so I've pretty much done that.

But, so much doesn't get done.  During the last year, there have been a few times when my hours have not been pretty.  So I thought it might be fun to get a longer time away, but not actually go anywhere for part of it.  Just try to get some things done.

So, that's what we've been doing.  Especially yesterday, when my mom came over and helped us wash the venetian blinds, re-organize the pantry, and clean out the refrigerator (which has been dripping water again, so we took all of the food out and turned it off.) 

My mom is the most organized person I know.  I may have mentioned that when I lived in Japan, I always got my Christmas presents from home well before Christmas.  (This was not uniformly the case.)  She is also the best ever at packing a little car so that all the things you need to bring home from internship will fit into it.  (I still remember our checklist for weekend camping trips.)   We took her out to eat as well, which was fun.

We ran into members of my church there.  I said "hello."  As they left, they waved and said they liked this restaurant "because of the pop-overs."  I remembered that I had seen another member of my church the day before at our local Large-Chain Bookstore.  I just said "hello" again, but a few minutes later, the woman came running back to tell me how much she had enjoyed the service on Sunday.  That was nice.  (Especially that she liked the whole service -- not just the sermon.)

I understand why they say pastors should "get away" on vacation.  This is not a small town.  But I still run into people.

So, today we decided to "get out of Dodge," so to speak.  It was waaaay to hot to work outside, which had been our original plan.  We decided to go to a larger medium-sized town where there are some cute little shops and restaurants.  (More about that later, perhaps.)

But, before we left, we went swimming.  Where I bumped into someone from my church.

Really.  This is NOT a small town. 

In Honor of our Tenth Anniversary this Weekend...

.... we are starting a project we have never before attempted (though we have often talked about it).

We are getting ready to have our hardwood floors refinished.

There, I said it. It is just one simple sentence, ten words. And yet, this project seems much more daunting than anything we have attempted yet. We re-finished the basement. We painted the living room, kitchen and bathroom. We constructed a shed in the back yard (I think that the boys were actually more involved with that than I was).

Ten simple words, one sentence, but here is what our project involves: pulling up 1970s style green carpet from living room and hallway. Cleaning and re-organizing porch and basement. Sweeping, tossing, and organizing in our garage. Taking almost all of our furniture out of the upstairs and finding temporary new homes in other parts of the house, porch or garage. (This involves both brainwork and brawnwork.)

Tonight I spent about an hour in the garage, just getting started: getting rid of a bag's worth of leaves, styrofoam peanuts and other miscellaneous items from the floor.

What is it Confucius said? The journey of 1,000 miles begins with a single step?

What did he know, anyway?

This weekend we are going away overnight to celebrate our tenth anniversary.

I figure, we might as well have some fun while we still like each other.

"How Does She Do It?" they all wondered

I just got home at about 8:45 this evening, after a meeting with my social justice group. We are planning a meeting to address the achievement gap in our communities' schools. We are also starting to get some ideas for advocacy and new programs.

Before that, I had the meeting with confirmation parents, to get ready for the new year.

Before that, I had a meeting with the confirmation guides, ditto above.

Before that, I went home, let the dog out, and fed her. (my husband did the same thing, so she's FULL tonight.)

Before that, I worked on organizing my desk, returned emails, and emailed people.

Before that, I had lunch.

Before that, I worked on a brochure for the achievement gap forum.

My day started at 7:30 a.m., as I prepared for our Wednesday Matins worship.

I'm exhausted today. And I'm "only" a pastor. I'm not the governor of the State of Alaska. I don't have five children (one of whom is a special needs child), and I didn't fire the staff at the mansion so that I could do my own cooking and cleaning. I do my own cooking or cleaning, although I confess that I don't do it to my own satisfaction.

Obviously, I don't think it is impossible to have a career and a family. In fact, I think those kinds of insinuations are sexist. But I do wonder: is it healthy for women to get the impression that they should, or even that they can, do it all?

Because I can't. Do it all, I mean. And I'm exhausted tonight, even without doing it all.

I promise not to get down on the floor

Recently I have been having some problems with my back, due to my activities at the 9th grade confirmation retreat, and my advanced age (50). So I went to the doctor, got some pain relievers and muscle relaxants, and some exercises, and some advice (don't carry that heavy purse for awhile) and worked on getting better. In a few days, I'm pleased to report, my back began to show marked improvement. Except... I would wake up in the middle of the night, my right knee throbbing. I called my doctor to give her an update and got more advice (try to take it easy over the weekend). She knows I'm a pastor. I chuckled a little, and tried to take it easy on Saturday, and thought that I was feeling, really, much better on Sunday.

Sunday was Mother's Day. Which is to say: my mother was coming over to my house. My husband kept asking, when was I going to lay down for my nap? You know, the one I always take on Sunday afternoon. But wherever I looked, I saw something I didn't want my mother to see. Dust. Dog hair. Marks on the floor. And when I touched the can opener, it was STICKY. I chopped fruit and vegetables, scrubbed and sprayed surfaces, and got down on the floor to wipe up dirt and dust. The funny thing was, when I got down on the floor, I found that I couldn't get up.

That had never happened to me before.

Also, I wasn't taking it easy on the weekend, was I?

I am not saying that my mother is judgmental. However, she has always been a good housekeeper, and the most organized person I know. My indelibly etched memories from early childhood are the ways the days of the week were organized by housework chore: you know, washing on Monday, ironing on Tuesday, etc. Floors were waxed, I believe, on Saturday. Now I don't do that. I basically will be sitting around and all of a sudden I will notice: hey, that shelf is dusty. So I'll dust it. Or, the other scenario: People are coming over.

So now I have had a slight knee relapse, and I am promising myself that I am going to try to take it easy for two days. I am not going to go up and down the basement steps, and I am absolutely not going to try to get down on the floor. I promise. Unless my mother says she's coming over again.