Done for the Week: No Place Like Home

I am beginning this new week wiped out from the previous one.  And for some reason, the coming week's schedule was apparently fashioned by demons.  It calls for super energy, and warp speed.  Starting from my present rag doll state, that will be something of a trick.


Squeezed in around ten hours of plane travel and a couple of large last-minute projects, I managed to get the following done last week:

Done for the Week:  Sept. 12-18, 2011

1. Continued 5K training with my youngest son, in preparation for his first race--Finished Week 3 of 9 Week program
2. Ran 2 times; walked once with my sister, once with my daughter
3. Continued strength training
4. Read A Curtain of Green, and Other Stories, by Eudora Welty
5. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
6. Provided technical assistance to nonprofit organization
7. Published 1 blog post
8. Continued significant work on current clients' projects
9. Attended Board meeting
10. Traveled to New Orleans; spent 5 days with family
11. Took my Mom out for lunch
12. Took my Mom to the movies
13. Helped my Mom dig out from under paper avalanche
14. Had dinner with my sister and my nephew
15. Did laundry
16. Took my dog to the dog park, with my oldest son
17. Had lunch out with my oldest son
18. Continued reading Elizabeth George's In Pursuit of the Proper Sinner aloud with my husband
19. Went out for Happy Hour with my husband

Last week's "most important thing" was traveling to New Orleans to spend time with my mother and my sister.  My visit was enjoyable, but not especially relaxing.  For one thing, there's the long-distance-daughter guilt, which I generally treat by full-tilt grappling with all manner of problems and dilemmas in my 83-year-old mother's life.  And then there's the time-bending--the exhausting effort to love and relate every minute of my abbreviated stays.  Add in the continuing adjustment to my dad's absence, and the pull to spend time with my caregiving sister, and the wrench of leaving for an indeterminate time, and it makes for a huge expenditure of emotional energy.  Still, it was overdue, and I look forward to doing it all again as soon as I can. 

My focus goal for last week was to "be a good Buddhist, and a good daughter, and to be fully present for [my] visit."  I managed that, with the help of a lousy internet signal "borrowed" from an unknown neighbor of my mother's that made blogging, working, email-checking and skyping with my family at home a near impossibility.  

This week, my goal is to return to work on the novel I put away last winter in the midst of my state's political upheaval.  I hope to maintain a regular, if minimal writing routine.  At least until the next recall heats up, and/or my daughter's high-risk pregnancy concludes, whichever comes first. . .

Done for the Week: Heading Out Again

Once more, this morning, I am entering another of my customary liminal states--this time, the between-ness of getting ready for a trip but not yet having departed.  So I'm not really here or there, in my head.  And having just finished Jodi Picoult's Nineteen Minutes, I haven't fully returned from the disturbing world of her story to my own everyday concerns.

And I am on the cusp of a new week--looking back at what I did with the last one:

Done for the Week:  Sept. 5-11, 2011

1. Continued 5K training with my youngest son, in preparation for his first race--Finished Week 2 of 9 Week program
2. Ran 3 times; biked once 
3. Began strength training
4. Signed up for tap dancing class
5. Finished Nineteen Minutes, by Jodi Picoult
6. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
7. Provided technical assistance to nonprofit organization
8. Published 3 blog posts
9. Attended 2 yoga classes
10. Continued significant work on current clients' projects
11. Attended Peace and Justice workshop at the Islamic Center, in observance of 9/11
12. Attended jobs meeting on transportation barriers to employment
13. Booked trip to New Orleans to visit family
14. Did laundry
15. Took my dog to the dog park, with husband and both sons
16. Continued reading Elizabeth George's In Pursuit of the Proper Sinner aloud with my husband
17. Went out for Happy Hour with my husband
18. Arranged for my asthmatic son to be seen and treated for acute bronchitis
19. Squeezed in lunch and a late night dog walk with my overworked, jet-lagged husband
20. Attended 3 hr. meeting at grandson's co-op preschool, with my daughter
21. Attended Task Force leaders' meeting, to discuss organization's website

The most important thing I got done last week was finally booking flights for this week's trip to New Orleans.  The cost of air travel these days makes it difficult to bite the bullet and ante up--to employ just a couple of metaphors.  Add to that my crowded work schedule, my husband's continual travels, and my daughter's pregnancy--which will require me to be at home on standby from October on--and scheduling this trip needed an algorithm I don't seem to have downloaded yet.  But my aging widowed mother and my best friend/sister live a thousand miles from me.  Seeing them with any frequency means biting this bullet, anteing up, and tackling the algorithmic challenge several times a year.  And once again, I (finally) did it.

Last week's focus goal was to "stick to my plan of publishing three blog posts."   I am happy to say that I met it.  But the pace of life and change, and my almost complete lack of day-to-day routine mean that keeping to my intention of posting Monday through Thursday, except for holidays and trips, will meet with frequent obstacles.  This week, I will be traveling from Tuesday through Saturday.  Thus the second week of "blog reform" is a write-off.  So I will have to resume my posting regimen next Monday, after a week's interruption.  

Of course, the habit change literature would recommend that I post this week, despite being away.  But I have little enough time to spend with my mother, and I plan to be a good Buddhist, and a good daughter, and to be fully present for our visit.  Which is my goal for the coming week. . . 

Done for the Past Two Weeks: Way Off My Beaten Path, for Once

A good chunk of the past couple of weeks was spent traveling, an accomplishment in itself, as you will see.  

While getting ready to leave, while away, and since returning, these things got done:

Done for the Past Two Weeks:  May 30 - June 12, 2011

1. Continued training for triathlon; biked 3 times, ran 4 times
2. Ran twice with my training partner 
   
3. Finished TheWorld According to Bertie, by Alexander McCall Smith; The Unbearable Lightness of Scones, by Alexander McCall Smith; People of the Book, by Geraldine Brooks; Life After Loss:  Conquering Grief and Finding Hope, by Raymond Moody and Dianne Arcangel
4. Went to "Train Day" with my daughter and grandson
5. Attended 1 yoga class
6. Provided last-minute emergency assistance with major annual project
7. Survived eleventh-hour travel plans disaster
8. Succeeded in enjoying first real vacation ever with my husband of fifteen years
9. Met my cousin, her husband, and new in-law for brunch in Seattle
10. Walked and biked and ferried around Seattle with my husband
11. Mailed postcard to my mother
12. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
13. Attended the Bead & Button Show with my sister
14. Took extra "trip recovery" day off blogging
    
15. Published 5 blog posts 
16. Wrote 2 gratitude journal entries
17. Got my husband to the gym with me once
    
18. Meditated 12 times
    
19. Oversaw completion of bathroom electrical work
20. Had lunch date with my husband
21. Completed website in time for client's book launch
22. Contracted with major new website client
23. Watched six playoff basketball games with my sons and husband
24. Went out driving with learning teenager several times 
25. Participated in driving my not-quite-licensed-to-drive son to his job
26. Began spending time on, and making progress with, yard recovery project
27. Spent lots of time outside in my swing, reading and relaxing

My focus goal for the past two weeks was to meditate and relax.    

During the years when I was overwhelmed with the challenges of raising a bright, sensitive, dyslexic child, a favorite resource was Rick Lavoie's video, How Difficult Can This Be? F.A.T. City--A Learning Disabilities Workshop.  The question posed in Lavoie's presentation, which called on teachers to apply compassionate understanding in working with "LD" kids, seems an apt one to put to myself, in this context.  How difficult can it be to consistently attend to my own need for peace of mind?  Not rocket science, surely.  But a struggle for me, nonetheless.  

On vacation, I managed to meditate every day, without benefit of routine.  And I squeezed in a fair amount of relaxation while gone, and since returning.  Then again, I was sheltered for much of this time from the gazillion demands that fill every non vacation day.  I think it best, however, to rest on what laurels I have at this juncture.  So I'm gonna say done, and done.

My most important accomplishment of the past two weeks, hands down, was having a wonderful time with my husband on the first real vacation we've taken, without kids, in fifteen years of marriage.  Turns out I retain my splinter abilities to travel, to explore new and even novel settings and experiences (somewhere short of bungee jumping, I admit), to spend extended periods of time solely in the company of (more or less) mature adults, and to connect romantically and intellectually with the man I married.  (Whew!)  And turns out my kids survived.  And that I didn't worry about them.  (Whew, again!)

For the coming week, my focus goal is to get organized for the summer.  Part of reentry from vacation was facing the realization that my everyday agenda is scattered, superfluous, and downright overwhelming.  I intend to look at all the things I have committed to do, and the things I want to do, and the things I have to do, and then to do some serious pruning.  I aspire to narrowing the gap between how I feel and live on vacation, and the rest of my life.  (Especially important given the dearth of vacations I have experienced in the course of my current family life, and the unlikelihood of that changing drastically in the near future!)  The level of dread and exhaustion that have been dogging me lately is motivating change, if nothing else.

Vacating My Post--Finally!

No, not my blog post.  Although I will be doing that too, tomorrow, but not "for the rest of [my] life," (as Humphrey Bogart's Rick warned Ingrid Bergman's Ilsa).  Just until next Wednesday.

No, the post I'm referring to--in the sense of "job, employment" that Thesaurus.com tells me is synonymous with "appointment, assignment, berth, billet, office, place, position, [and] situation"--is that of full-time mother.  I have occupied this post, up-close and from afar, on- and off-line, for more than thirty years.  Most of us who attain this position, whether through careful calculation and arrangement or, as in my case, by backing into it--not once, but three times!--never stop being mothers.  But I have been reluctant to stop mothering, more so than your average (Mama) Bear.  

Some would (and have) call(ed) much of what I've done smothering, or brand me with the disdainful sobriquet "helicopter mom."  I would (and have) counter(ed) that I have placed a high priority on parenting, and that my last two, in particular, have been relatively "high needs children."  School years and adolescence have been bumpy--to say the least--for my two-years-apart male offspring, the tag ends of a not-so-blended family.  Their older mom was "sandwiched" between their own and a geographically distant elderly generation of family members requiring major support.  And these boys both came with their own charming but challenging traits and difficulties.  It has not been The Brady Bunch, by any stretch of the imagination.

At twenty and breathing-down-the-neck-of-eighteen, however, they are as ready as any their age that I can imagine to spend several days on their own--in each other's company, even!  They can cook and launder their own clothes, if not clean up religiously.  One can drive the other to work, or to the emergency room.  A sister who won't hang up on them lives nearby.  There is food in the house.  The dog will get them up every day.  The setting and their own amazing maturity will keep them as safe in my absence as I can when I'm here. 

My nest is not empty--yet.  But I am the one leaving it.  For my own good, and theirs, and their father's.  But not for good.

Beginning to put to bed a long and (mostly) lovely part of my life. . .

Back Next Week

It's not the kind of vacation with fruity drinks and white sand beaches.  It's not the kind of vacation with sleeping late and extra reading time.  

It's 

2a : a scheduled period during which activity (as of a court or school) is suspended.

It's time to step away from my usual round of writing and working, and to spend some time with my mother.  And my sister.  And her family.

Next week, time for blogging.

Procrastinating 101: Tips for the Post-Vacation, Pre-Vacation and I've-Used-Up-All-My-Vacation-Time Sufferer

This week, we are contemplating Marshall Cook's 10th chapter in Slow Down. . . and Get More Done, in which he writes about taking "365 Vacations a Year."  Last week--actually just two posts ago, we considered Cook's advice on escaping "the tyranny of time."  Of course, as Cook reminds us, 

You'll probably never be able to fully escape your schedule[s].  So you must schedule your escape.

We are in need of some serious daily R & R, according to Cook if we:

• find our energy and spirits seriously lagging during the day
• feel tension build as the day goes on
• have trouble relaxing when we finally get a chance to put our feet up at the end of the day.

Who in these crazy, sped-up, is-this-or-is-it-not-a-"double-dip"-recession days doesn't recognize themselves in this description?


Cook says we should 

Examine your day, searching out opportunities for breaks, rewards and minivacations.  If giving yourself a break doesn't come easily for you, if you feel guilty even thinking about it, don't trust yourself to rest when you need to.  Schedule your breaks, and give those appointments to rest top-priority status.

Elements he recommends for such a program include:

• the three-second time-out--basically a breathing space between stimulus and response, which, for example, could keep us from engendering road rage in the driver we flip off angrily
• the fifteen-second zone-out--noting our stress responses, and taking a few seconds to "talk down" those shoulders that are hugging our ears again, or to resume breathing when we find ourselves holding our breath
• the fifteen-minute vacation--pleasant interludes of non-work-related activity, e.g., fiction reading, a short walk, a music break, closing our eyes and revisiting a favorite spot  in our minds[1] 
• the favorite strategy of felines everywhere--naps[2] 
• learning to love the little everyday things--if you are gratitude-challenged, I advise a visit to one of my favorite places on the internet, 1000 Awesome Things, where you can learn to appreciate such things as the air just before a thunderstorm and the sound of water lapping against a dock  and watching cream go into coffee and, well, you get the point
• taking note of the life-enhancers (the people kind)--like the grocery store checkout clerk who tells you to have a great afternoon, and means it, or the guy who chases your wind-snatched hat down the block and returns it 
• making intelligent use of rewards by sprinkling 3-second, 15-second and 15-minutes breaks throughout the day, "shunning unrewarding rewards," and "eas[ing] important pleasures into [our] li[ves] now"--not waiting for the end of the week, or vacation, or retirement, and 
• enjoying tasks for their own sake--I tried this today, and found myself taking before and after pictures during my kitchen reclamation project, so I could see again what a good job I was doing.  (Is that perhaps just a little pathetic?)

I intend to continue thinking about these ideas, since I have been experiencing a pretty serious disconnect between my vacationing life and the dreary-by-contrast existence I've come back to.  It seems I would have done well to bring a little vacation back with me in my packed-for-carry-on bags.

---

[1] Here Cook warns that “[y]ou must know that nobody will give you time, not fifteen minutes or even fifteen seconds, and not even for something as important as daily maintenance of your health and sanity.  And you’ll never find the time.  You must make the time, and you may have to be fairly ruthless about it.  Pressures, obligations, demands—scheduled and unscheduled—will never let up.  Carve out a piece of precious time for yourself each day and use it to restore yourself.”

[2] Cook on catnaps:  “Nothing on a cat’s schedule is more important than the nap.  If a cat made out a “to-do” list, almost all the A-1 priority items would be “take nap” (along with the occasional “eat kibble,” “use box” and “scratch furniture”).  For us it’s the opposite.  Rest is the last priority.  We rob from rest to pay for work and pleasure.  Cats rest when they feel like it.  We rest when we finally allow ourselves to.  We have much to learn from the cat.”

Done for the Past Two Weeks: And the Time Just Flew!

I'm still transitioning from my week away, and what my grandson refers to as our "two sleepover" weekend immediately following.  Somehow when I'm away, I imagine my life as more settled and appealing than it turns out to be upon my return.  I don't want to think of it as "back to the salt mines," but I haven't yet tuned-up my attitude as I take up the reins of my everyday steed.  


Here's what is behind me, as I head into a new week, in my old location. 

Done List--Weeks of Sept. 13-26

1. Continued off-season triathlon training, on vacation mode--biked once, swam once, ran twice, two of these exercise sessions in New Orleans heat
2. Finished The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson; The Moon and Sixpence, by W. Somerset Maugham
3. Continued significant support to transitioning nonprofit organization
4. Worked my two part-time jobs, taking one week off
5. Published 10 blog posts, including 5 vacation reruns
6. Meditated 1 time
7. Wrote 5 Gratitude Journal entries
8. Wrote 1 Morning Page
9. Spent second 1/2 day cleaning garage--not quite finished
10. Had new mattress set delivered, and spent one night on it before leaving town
11. Wrote for two hours on my novel, as planned
12. Went out with my husband for Happy Hour; continued reading aloud Elizabeth George's In the Presence of the Enemy
13. Babysat 3-year-old grandson for 51 hours, and lived to tell the tale
14. Took my dog to the dog park once
15. Flew to New Orleans with my two sons, including the flight-phobic one; took the overnight train back; enjoyed (almost all of) the trip
16. Spent lots of time with my mom
17. Despite my hate-hate relationship with football, gladly cheered the Saints to 2-0; mourned yesterday's loss
18. Ate beignets twice, barbecued shrimp once, crab cakes once, middle-Eastern fare twice, bread pudding and other excessive departures from regular diet (it is New Orleans!)
19. Got my sons to clean mom's carpet
20. Helped my brother-in-law reseat his stone patio
21. Spent some, but not enough time relaxing
22. Visited my father's grave
23. Arranged transfer of my old refrigerator from my daughter's house, since our new one is no longer working

In red above the most important thing I did this over this two-week period.  As my mother continues to celebrate birthdays, I grow ever more aware of how much she means to me, and of the distance that separates us.  It was really satisfying to be with her long enough this visit that she began to relax into our time together, and stopped worrying so much about my imminent departure.  With the exception of our couple of late night talks like those of old, we didn't really do anything remarkable.  But it was great to greet the mornings at her breakfast table; to sit with her in her small patio garden when the steamy temperatures allowed; to accompany her on dog walks; to ooh and ahh at the ancient items we spotted antiquing with the boys; to join her and the rest of the family in rooting for their beleaguered area's football heroes; to sip cappuccinos at the local coffee shop; to share a pew, if not a faith, at her church; and to know that we had helped each other alleviate the loneliness of our living conditions.  I hope to go back soon.  As my husband frequently reminds me, it's not something I can afford to procrastinate about.

Highlighted in green is the accomplishment related to my modest focus goal from two weeks ago--to spend a couple of hours before I left on my novel, and to work on believing that I can write it.  I did what I planned, which was an improvement on the previous week.  And I have a plan for this week, which is to spend Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons on the novel.  This is time I can count on in the upcoming weeks, which should help in establishing a regimen I can stick to.  For the present, that is enough.  One thing I can apply from my triathlon and 5K training is the notion of building skill and capacity.  When I can consistently carry out my writing plan for the week, it will be time to consider adding sessions.  And standards?  We're a long way from that sticky wicket!


I am also hopeful that this week I will meditate frequently, exercise more, and get my house in better shape so I can stand living here until I can leave again.

Vacation Reruns, Part 4

My husband chose this post to run while I'm on vacation, probably because it ends with an endorsement of him. He says:  

Let me tell you about my first wife.... No she was something completely different. Now I have to get back to studying international war crimes tribunals.

FRIDAY, APRIL 30, 2010

Married to a Workaholic (Again!)

If I am becoming my mother, as so many of us fear, it may have something to do with the fact that I keep marrying my father.  


The workaholics in my life, past and present, are, or were, good men.  They are, or have been, absorbed in activity that I recognize as meaningful, and morally valuable.  


My father was a doctor, the kind who made house calls and got paid in rabbits and farm produce as well as in cash.  When he kept patients waiting, it was because he took the needed time to listen to each of them, and to relate to their lives and their true illnesses.  I was used to his absences from family outings and occasions, the skid marks he left arriving late for dinner and leaving afterwards for the hospital, the interrupting phone calls and even police dispatched to our home if our one family phone was tied up too long and an emergency call couldn't get through.  His work was important, and it came first.  And last.  


My first husband was, and is, a clinical psychologist.  Like my mother before me, I spent long evenings alone with our child, since he worked late, past her bedtime, several days a week.  Unlike my father, he didn't break for dinner.  We took two cars to parties when he was on call, which was almost always since he usually practiced solo.  My sleep was broken by patients' calls to discuss their insomnia, as well as more urgent problems.  His patients were important, and their needs came first.  And last.


My second husband is a university professor and committed change agent, who commutes to work in another city, in another state.  His students and the disenfranchised community groups he works with command his energy and attention, in between writing, preparing for classes and presentations, traveling internationally for meetings and research, and fulfilling other professional obligations.  In the last few years, he has begun to provide expertise, always for the defendant, in death penalty cases.  His iPhone accompanies us everywhere, even to bed and the dog park, and can be relied upon for late-breaking bulletins and late-night and weekend calls from graduate students and project participants.  These people are important.  I should have listened when he told me that, in his first marriage, work came first.  And last.  I thought we would be different.


But why am I writing this sad saga in my blog about procrastination?  Because, for whatever reason, this pattern in my relationships with men is part of how I got where I am today.  And part of how I didn't get where I thought I wanted to be.  My husbands would tell you that my choice to devote much of my time and energy to child-rearing necessitated their focus on work, and on providing.  In both marriages, I experienced it differently.  It seemed that their fevered work paces were unalterable, and after initial skirmishes, I gave up and worked (or didn't work) around them.  Having grown up with one mostly absent parent, I felt that my children needed to be someone's first priority while they were young.  And it was clear that person was going to have to be me.  Whatever other work I took on, for pay and as a volunteer, had to occupy the space that was left.


But in truth, I can admit now that there was an element of martyrdom in my compromising. And that motherhood, for all its challenges and importance, functioned partly to get me off the hook of dealing with fears of failure and even stronger fears of success.  An even more uncomfortable confession is the naming of my own inner workaholic.  Had I known how to manage the perfectionist mother and the unfocused but nevertheless perfectionist scholar/writer in me, I might have been able to give attention to more of the work I longed to do.  


I still live with a workaholic, and our routines at this point assign much of the family and household work to me.  But I aspire, as does my spouse, to effect some small but important changes in how we share time and responsibility and freedom for our own pursuits.  My blog writing has been partly fueled by his willingness to assume the dish-washing chores--mostly--for the last few months.  After years of wrangling about this domestic task, years which saw me trying to restyle dish-washing as a meditative practice, and trying to hold my male children accountable for a job their male parent escaped as much as possible, he somehow heard me, finally.  He says it was when I pointed out that washing the dishes took at least an hour an a half of my time each day.  He thought I could do something more important with that time.  And he was right.


So I defend to the death these days his right to do this work without criticism.  When my children complain about improperly stored items or food residue baked onto plates, spoons and bowls by the dishwasher, I invite them to do better.  


I have accepted that my partner's approach to work is a product of his own demons, and not a realm for my reform efforts.  But I am no longer going to use it as an excuse to give up on myself and the use of my talents.  If nothing else, his example is a cautionary tale in my face that can motivate my own more human-friendly work balance.  And who knows?  Maybe if I stop fighting it, he may eventually come less to defend it.  As I said before, he is a good man.

Heading Out

I was going to be done packing, and nagging my traveling companions to pack, yesterday.  Rrriiiight.


It's not like I haven't been busy.  Heck, I haven't even touched Bejeweled Blitz in days.  But I still haven't opened my suitcase.


I've been up to my ears in tasks and projects, as we prepare to leave.  But that's really the problem.  Or at least part of it.  Some part of my primitive brain responds to impending journeys as though I were saying goodbye to my life as I have known it, as though it were my last chance to set things right.  If I hold true to form, I will be dashing in from the last yoga class I can attend for 12 days; giving the kitchen a final once-over (as though my husband and my dog would be keeping it up in my absence!); throwing a few more last-minute items in my carry-on; completing nonessential work tasks; and being driven to the airport in a frazzled state, my energies spent before I board the plane at mid-day.  Since I have to get through two flights and a layover with a nervous teenager and his sibling in tow, this is probably not the condition I should be striving for.


Maybe my ancestors survived their transatlantic relocations by over-preparing.  Maybe their psyches were soothed in some endurance-promoting fashion by all the loose ends they tied up before departing.  But really, as much as I have to leave town, particularly in recent years,  can I afford the degree of intensity with which I approach embarkation?


The obvious answer is no.  Nor do I want to continue to be the kind of person that performs this comic ritual with regularity.  So today, I'm going to attempt to stop this runaway train, or at least to slow it down as it careens toward that all-too-familiar crash.  I'm going to try for good-enough packing, and let go of my perfectionistic goals and the tendency to continue adding "just one more thing" to my to-do-before-leaving list.  And I'm going to take some deep breaths and some rest breaks as I move through the next 27 hours, so that I can reach my destination without unraveling.


At least, that's the plan.

Done for the Week: A Change of Venue

Last week I took my act on the road.  Five days away from my usual environment and out of my comfort zone took their toll on my body.  Yesterday afternoon saw me falling asleep on the glider in my backyard while reading the last few pages of a well-written mystery.  

I learned a few important things on my trip.  First of all, I found that being with my Mom in the community where my Dad had died and is buried was stressful--which probably means I need to go more frequently to make some progress in accepting his death and my need to grieve.  (See earlier posts Grief Postponed:  Part I, and Grief Postponed:  Part II.)

Secondly, I discovered a need I have to spend more time with my Mom.  Thirdly, I realized how extremely bad I am at relaxing.  And fourthly, I reconnected with my constructed ability to endure and even enjoy air travel, which bodes well for a possible trip out of the country later this year.  All of this led to, and/or stemmed from the following list of activities:

Done List--Week of Apr.5-11

1. Completed Week 8 of Couch Potato to 5K training (again!)
2. Finished The Lighthouse, by P. D. James; The on-time, on-target manager:  how a "last-minute manager" conquered procrastination, by Ken Blanchard and Steve Gottry  
3. Took my blood pressure daily, while on "vacation"
4. Attended no meetings; scheduled none
5. Published 5 blog posts
6. Meditated 5 times
7. Succeeded in napping resistant 2 year-old once
8. Finished my part of large volunteer project in time to leave for New Orleans
9. Attended Wicked in New Orleans, with attendant dinner out
10. Took my Mom to a movie
11. Got through airport security twice, lived through two last-minute destination and schedule changes due to flight delays
12. Made new friend on one long flight
13. Helped Mom with paperwork, repairs
14. Worked on relaxing in sunshine with Mom and her dog, for the better part of three days
15. Rescinded an unwanted commitment 
16. Participated in 2 Women's Ensemble performances in church
17. Spent time talking with my youngest teenager

My progress on last week's focus goal--to meditate 5 times, while on vacation--is highlighted in green above.  As we can all clearly see, my goal was met.  Because I was traveling, and at the mercy of planes and relatives, I had to squeeze my meditating into any available crevice in the days, so this was something of a feat. I have decided to keep the same focus goal for at least another week, so that I can continue to establish a practice that will support my need for a more calm and mindful state.   This week, I hope to try to implement my plan to meditate regularly (most days) after lunch.  

In red above, I have identified my most important achievement of last week--in my opinion. I think it speaks for itself.  

Now to bring some of last week's lessons back home. . .