My Dear Lyzako,It's beautiful here today. We've just come off a stretch of incredible summer-like weather this past week with highs around eighty and comfortable lows in the sixties. After rain much of the day yesterday, a cold front has brought cooler air, lots of sunshine and a stiff breeze blowing the clouds quickly through the morning sky. A refreshing high of sixty is expected for today, and I'm digging it, my friend.
How's the weather in your neck of the woods? Predictably idyllic, I'm sure.
Recently I've noticed some real slippage in the old gearbox of my mind. At times I am so overwhelmed with ideas, notions and whims that I can barely function as a normal, workaday person, the mental confusion even creeping into and encroaching upon my precious weekend reading sessions, preventing me from being able to concentrate on the words I see before me on the page.
As evidence, I've enclosed a photo of my kitchen table, haphazardly covered with a month or two's worth of accumulated stuff (for lack of a more descriptive term). Bear in mind that the photo and its contents were not arranged in any conscious way, the items you see on and around it simply dropped onto the nearest convenient open spot until there were no more convenient open spots, as you can see. I think the table is a living snapshot, if you will, of what is going on in my brain.
I've developed a tenderness for old technology, which explains the projector. I'm a little more at a loss to explain Sonny Bono's autobiography, other than it was half-off hardcover books at Value Village.
As to the rest of the junk, most of it pertains to what I've come to call my 'reawakening creative spirit', which I'm beginning to believe is what's causing the aforementioned 'gearbox slippage'. I can't be sure, mind you, but it does seem as though simple things that I used to remember to do, simply fly away, while, for the sake of encouraging creativity, I allow my confused mind to meander whatever path it decides to take.
That's great when one is selecting the color of the next pastel, or dragging a brush loaded with paint across a crusty surface. It helps to keep the work fresh and lessens the chance of a predictable outcome, which of course, adds excitement and discovery to the process.
But for keeping the dishes clean, the laundry washed and food in the refrigerator, the meandering mind is a hindrance. For example, I've 'forgotten' to do the dishes three times this week, run the sink half full of hot water and soap only to add another day's worth of dishes on top of the stack.
I've also 'forgotten' to cook some hot Italian sausages that I thawed on Sunday, and if I 'forget' again today, it will be four days in a row. Should I just toss them back in the freezer and 'forget' it altogether?
Speaking of food, simple trips to the grocery store with only a mental list of needed staples have become a chore because I always seem to return home having 'forgotten' one or more crucial items needed for preparation of the day's meal, which then necessitates a return trip.
Last weekend's excursion to Ferndalia Foods was well-planned, though, a long list of items carefully penned onto several post-it notes, from wax paper to oregano to canned tomatoes. I felt confident I would 'forget' nothing when I loaded up the purple Ranger with four cases of empty beer cans, hopped in and drove into town.
After standing in line for ten minutes behind somebody with a trash bag full of miscellaneous bottles and cans, many of which were refused by the machine, I pushed my returnables through the 'Kan-Smacker' (reg. U.S. Pat. Off.), grabbed a cart and made my way through the produce section.
Did I need apples? I couldn't remember, and a quick but thorough search of my pockets, wallet, behind my ears and up my ass pointed to what I should have known would happen from the start.
I forgot the list!
Warmest Regards,
Rembrandt Van Sherman-Winkle
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