Habits are hard to break and we are creatures of habit. Wake up, get up, ritual, check weight, coffee, write; I boot up the computer and go straight to journal. While coffee was perking I was processing and if I don’t write, those thoughts will die unexamined. One of my boys has a truly high maintenance family, so many things, so much to do, to keep up and he tries to keep up with me and my needs as well. When my things slip past him and they do, his apology will be real and he feels much worse than I do but he is still a work in progress. I said not to fret, shared a little story from my summers in Alaska with Kenai Fjords National Park.
Our uniforms had shirt pockets and we were issued small note pads with National Park logos that fit the pocket perfectly. Part of our training was emphasis on being in proper uniform. That included the note pad in our shirt pocket, never be without a pen and note pad. The more you take note, the more you recall, the more you follow up, the better you learn and likewise the more completely you perform the mission of the N.P. Service, the 3-P’s; Protect, Preserve and last but not least, Please the public (Park visitors). It becomes habit, jotting down a few words to follow up on later. Names, email addresses, sightings, questions, locations, observations; it doesn’t take long to jot down enough to make sense of later. It was for real, the note pad was no less important than bear spray. Keep it close, use it. I learned to do that and it changed my life. Sometimes it works like carrying an umbrella, insurance against rain. The time lost to scribbling a note is well invested, especially if you remember because you wrote to begin with rather than having to read.
I knew my son would not rush out and buy a note pad for his shirt pocket but I shared the story anyway. No telling how long a seed will lie dormant in a dusty crack before it gets a drink and shoots a root. I was 70 that summer in Seward and learning that lesson has been worth the wait. I have small note books and 3x5 index cards in every room, in the truck, my back pack and shopping bags. My note pads get the same devotion as the preacher with his bible except it's what I write in mine that counts. My note books are all scribbled half full with plenty of clean pages still at the ready. It is a good habit in a time of so many bad ones.
I am on my last few sips of morning coffee. When I was younger, less seasoned, I spurned the idea of hot coffee in summer. But that changed like everything else and morning is hot coffee time. Then last night I made orange spice tea with tea bags in the microwave. It’s not involved as it sounds and it works like a charm. Shred and dry fresh orange zest in a tin to be used later. Whirl the fleshy orange in the blender with a tall glass of water, add dry zest from the tin, from the time before, five or six orange tea bags and microwave on high to near boil and let it stew for a while. Cold water, ice cubes, a chili in the freezer and you have a couple of liters of great orange spice tea, enough for a second call before turning in. Hot coffee early is a kick start while icy spice tea in the p.m. is a fix, not unlike a timely kiss.
It rained again last night when we didn’t really need it. For over a month the ground had been drying, cracking and I thought maybe summer’s Dog Days were early. Go on the road for a week and return to ground too soft, grass too wet to mow. Still, I’ll be watering again before my housekeeping to-do list gets caught up. But right now it’s time to get up and move my feet. My job today is to make it a good one. I know, I know; shit happens but karma tells me, play the cards you’ve been dealt.
Our uniforms had shirt pockets and we were issued small note pads with National Park logos that fit the pocket perfectly. Part of our training was emphasis on being in proper uniform. That included the note pad in our shirt pocket, never be without a pen and note pad. The more you take note, the more you recall, the more you follow up, the better you learn and likewise the more completely you perform the mission of the N.P. Service, the 3-P’s; Protect, Preserve and last but not least, Please the public (Park visitors). It becomes habit, jotting down a few words to follow up on later. Names, email addresses, sightings, questions, locations, observations; it doesn’t take long to jot down enough to make sense of later. It was for real, the note pad was no less important than bear spray. Keep it close, use it. I learned to do that and it changed my life. Sometimes it works like carrying an umbrella, insurance against rain. The time lost to scribbling a note is well invested, especially if you remember because you wrote to begin with rather than having to read.
I knew my son would not rush out and buy a note pad for his shirt pocket but I shared the story anyway. No telling how long a seed will lie dormant in a dusty crack before it gets a drink and shoots a root. I was 70 that summer in Seward and learning that lesson has been worth the wait. I have small note books and 3x5 index cards in every room, in the truck, my back pack and shopping bags. My note pads get the same devotion as the preacher with his bible except it's what I write in mine that counts. My note books are all scribbled half full with plenty of clean pages still at the ready. It is a good habit in a time of so many bad ones.
I am on my last few sips of morning coffee. When I was younger, less seasoned, I spurned the idea of hot coffee in summer. But that changed like everything else and morning is hot coffee time. Then last night I made orange spice tea with tea bags in the microwave. It’s not involved as it sounds and it works like a charm. Shred and dry fresh orange zest in a tin to be used later. Whirl the fleshy orange in the blender with a tall glass of water, add dry zest from the tin, from the time before, five or six orange tea bags and microwave on high to near boil and let it stew for a while. Cold water, ice cubes, a chili in the freezer and you have a couple of liters of great orange spice tea, enough for a second call before turning in. Hot coffee early is a kick start while icy spice tea in the p.m. is a fix, not unlike a timely kiss.
It rained again last night when we didn’t really need it. For over a month the ground had been drying, cracking and I thought maybe summer’s Dog Days were early. Go on the road for a week and return to ground too soft, grass too wet to mow. Still, I’ll be watering again before my housekeeping to-do list gets caught up. But right now it’s time to get up and move my feet. My job today is to make it a good one. I know, I know; shit happens but karma tells me, play the cards you’ve been dealt.
No comments:
Post a Comment