What's time got to do with it?

Seriously, today's July 9th. Honest to God, how did that happen? Not to mention that it's 2009. I'm tired of this time thing. Can't we just do away with it once and for all? Can't we go to work whenever we feel like it? Same thing with eating and sleeping? What if we ran our lives by internal clocks instead? Actually, what if we ran everything in our lives from an internal barometer instead of any external ones?

For instance, I awoke this morning to water dripping from the bathroom ceiling. That's after planning a day filled with "have-to" things because of the direction my life has been going. Alyssa has her first open mic night at the new digs so there's a lot to go into preparing for it. Cyndy and I just got two parties to cater to today and in between prep time and serving time, we were going to go over a plan on how we could make a catering business work between us.

But then I awoke to water dripping from the ceiling.

Did I mention that the shelf in the closet fell and clothes are stacked on the couch, boxes filled with shoes, hats, and belts stashed in every extra space? My art supplies are in every corner possible. And surely I've mentioned that I'm working on an art project for Working Mother Media that needs to be sent to NYC as soon as possible, so my sewing machine, cutting materials, ironing board, and boxes of fabric are filling the kitchen and living room. Right now I'm propped on the end of the couch with my laptop on my knees typing in the dark, because Alyssa's fallen asleep on the couch sitting up. She stayed up last night working on things for her office space. She was there late with the electrician, a dear friend so generous to do the work, and then came home preparing for today.

I don't think I lasted being vertical much past midnight even with a couple of cups of coffee. I was working on my art, but when it comes to using the sewing machine I really need to be fully functioning. I can screw things up when I'm overly tired. And my machine's been with me longer than most relationships, and it knows when I've had enough. It will just stop working, and it did very early this morning. It kept breaking threads, and I just called it a night.

When I finally got ready for bed, it seemed to me that the bathroom ceiling was still in one piece. It was between then and when I was awakened by dripping water, that the ceiling became less dense. It's got a nice line running through it with three holes that drip water. Alyssa called maintenance right away -- a 1-866 number -- and talked with someone from India. She told them that it was an emergency. They asked where she was. Not what apartment number but what apartment complex in what state and in what town. They said they'd get right over.

From India? From what state and from what town?

Just a few weeks ago, we would've been able to go to a very wonderful man in the main building and tell him what the problem is. He would've taken care of it, but now everything goes through corporate and apparently corporate operates out of India as does every other U.S. corporation that's still intact. No, I know they don't "operate" out of India, but it's their contract labor in India that we as consumers have to deal with.

So, how long do you suppose it's going to take to get maintenance here to fix a dripping ceiling and reinstall a shelf in the closet? Well, we'll see. Let's just hope that when they arrive, I'm here to take the dog out with me, because there's no one coming in here as long as he's here alone.

But didn't this posting start out talking about time and internal barometers instead of external ones controlling how our days are being spent? And just where was I going with that concept? Oh, who knows...my external surroundings are playing way too big a role in my consciousness right now to go any deeper. The internal workings are just going to have to work without me for a while. Right now I will just master going with the flow of wherever this river takes me. (Thanks, Silky, for that metaphor this morning!)

A whole new world

Sipping my second cup of coffee before heading to cater a wedding today. A wedding on father's day, on summer solstice, on Sunday. It's going to be in an historic building where I helped cater a fashion show. McKinney has a section of town that has only historical buildings that have been renovated. It's called Chestnut Square. On Saturday mornings in the summer Farmer's Market is located over there. And this afternoon there's a wedding reception. Woo hoo!


I'm headed over to the kitchen where I'll help prepare food before hauling it over Chestnut Square with some friends. For someone who never made a kitchen her room of choice, it's rather humorous that I'm spending so much time in one lately. And loving it, I might add.


My life here in McKinney, Texas seems like a long play date. I've spent a life of working and working some more, but not always enjoying what I'm doing. For some reason, and I wish I could clarify it better, McKinney seems to be where people go to enjoy what they do. There's always a reason to party. There's always time to celebrate, and there's always, always, always reasons to hug. Oh my gosh, this is one hugging town. And kissing. These practices need to be added to the constitution, but I suppose making them law takes away the spontaneity.


My friend, Cyndy Long, is the one that introduced me to the kitchen concept. I am 52 years old and am now spending time in the kitchen. At least on some days. Not very often. I don't want to give the impression that this is a regular gig because it's not. I just happen to be doing a bit more of it lately. There's a Red Hat's Society gig on Tuesday and on July 3rd, there's a very small party that I'm doing by myself.


And, by the way, for all those who have known me forever, I haven't burned a single thing. I have dropped a tray of scones, but burned nothing. I haven't even set off smoke alarms. This, my friends, is a record. I've been told that the world is shifting, that everything is different now. Well, what I've done in the kitchen lately is proof of that. It's a whole new world. I'm telling you.