Hopefully, sometime far into into the future it’ll read something like this:
1. She was a big chicken.
2. She tried hard, but fell short frequently.
3. If cotton candy was involved, she could out-eat a dozen kids-put together.
4. She dearly loved and was enormously proud of her family.
5. She would love the chance to make just one more list…
|One of my favorite treats…|
Did you guess this might be me? It was the cotton candy that gave me away, right? Maybe an adequate description on my headstone? It’s a bit wordy, so might not fly. Not exactly normal mainstream epitaph. Then again, not much about this wife, mom, grandma, and great grandma has ever been normal. As you can see, I’m not a risk-taker, but clearly a list-maker. Neese-no-taka-risks-but-maka-lists.
|Reading list in order of a series of books I need to catch up on…|
This story is about number 5. I don’t remember when it started, though I’m sure one of my kids, or Hubs would testify under oath, “she drove us nuts with her crazy lists. She’s made them forever. About anything and everything” Which is true enough. I don’t remember a time in my life when I was list-free. My life revolves around lists. No, I don’t have post it notes evenly spaced covering an entire wall in the spare bedroom. And no, I’m not gonna prove that to you. But if I want to accomplish future tasks, recall things that tend to slip from my small brain, rest assured, it was written down somewhere beforehand. Just the way stuff gets done in my world.
|Possible story for my blog in the future. List this list for 6 months…|
I think I’m an orderly person. And I don’t like to forget things. Lists help keep my strange little life sane. My world is better when I’m organized. Anything concerning a grocery run, general errands, upcoming events, Hubs-to-do, due dates for bills, or blog post ideas. I make lists for all of the above and so much more. It’s rare for me to forget a list as I’m heading out the door though it does happen on occasion. I’m more inclined to misplace a list somewhere in the house after I’ve written it. Might be something obscure like the probability of what canned goods I’ll be working on during the next 6 weeks. Why make a list about something so bizarre? I’ve no idea, yet I’m compelled to do exactly that on a regular basis.
The reason a list might go missing in this house is caused by a fetish of mine. Tablets. Not like my iPad. Tiny free mini pads from hotels where we’ve stayed. Geez, they’re like crack. My heart rate is accelerating already just talking the little buggars. As soon as I walk in a hotel room, I snag the petite pad of paper and pen. Stash it in my purse, tearing off one measly sheet (this pains me dearly) on which I write, “thanks for the clean room, have a great day.” Heaven help the misguided cleaning lady if she does not set out replacement pad the following morning when she picks up the money as she spiffs up our room. I wouldn’t say I have hundreds of mini-tablets throughout the house, but that total’s pretty close. Whenever Shannon’s out of town (frequently for Landon’s (Drew to the rest of the world) basketball tournaments, I can count on receiving all her token tablets. It’s like Christmas. Almost every weekend.
|Love, love my stash of tiny tablets…|
I have a routine list I’ve been writing which makes my life more manageable. On the top of the sheet pad I write: A week in the life… On it I list the days of the week, chores, cleaning, errands, Landon’s games, Peyton’s dance classes, work, meetings, Jovi, groceries, shopping. Not all things listed will be checked off or completed by the weeks end. They never are. But if I deem it halfway important, it will surely be re-routed on the following week’s scheduled list. Somehow I’ve found ‘dusting the furniture’ can easily be moved from one week to the next with nary a guilty thought. I rarely feel bad about skipping it either. Because my intentions are good and sincere, though it remains one of my least favorite chores.
Sounds like many of these should be on my calendar, but when there’s more than a couple things listed on it per day, my little alloted squares on the calendar gets too crowded and makes me twitchy. Besides, I already have birthdays and important dates I want to remember on the calendar. When planning my week in the life, I tend to bunch stuff together. Why? Basically I’m a lazy slug. If I plan is to run out for an oil change, I’ll get gas, money from the bank, stop at Goodwill for that cheap platter I need, and buy groceries. If this possibly means spending a full day at home instead of running around again, I’m in. Face it, I’m an introverted lazy loner.
|A frequent mistake-2 lists on the same sheet, oops…|
Not everyone in my world fully appreciates my ability to create these masterpiece award winning lists. Hubs routinely tops my list of non-appreciative folks. He might even go as far as saying he hates, abhors and detests the 2 sentences, starting with the words, “here’s my list” or worse, “let me make a list for you.” This from a man after almost 50 years together is still unable to find a gallon of milk in the fridge. Maybe I need to start a map division for my hopeless, hapless guy. But just hand him any kind of new-fangled gadget. He can draw you blueprints, build machines to make the product, cost out all the parts, determine when the machines will be paid for, start production before the deadline, have the finished products shipped efficiently and as cheaply as possible, and soon be making money. Long before he finds that elusive gallon of milk in the fridge. Dude.
|High school buddy Bob Smith, shooting the shit with John, 2016…|
I’m never without a running grocery list on my kitchen counter, especially on a canning or baking day. Adding sugar, flour, eggs, baking soda, whatever, whenever I start running low. One of my top pet peeves is running out of anything. Neese, the quantities shopper. My grocery list resembles hieroglyphics. MW means Miracle Whip, AM, Aunt Millies, BC, birthday cards, seedless usually means watermelon or red grapes. I’ve written my list this way for decades. I fully realize one day I could very easily end up in Meijer, staring at my list and not have a freaking clue what any of this gobbledy-gook-gibberish means. And yet it’s written in my own hand. That day would be the time to give my car keys up.
I have begged John to add whatever items he wants, needs, craves or sees we’re running low on to my list. But to no avail. He tends to remind me of what I’ve missed about 24 hours after writing a huge check at the grocery store. (I spend a lot of money on groceries, we rarely eat out, but eat very well at home). Invariably, whatever he needs is something I don’t eat or use, so of no consequence to me. Hubs will say, “hey, I couldn’t shave this morning, out of razors.” Or “could you buy some chunk cheese and Club Crackers again? We’ve been out for months.” (To simply avoid this Hubs, put it on my dang list).
I don’t yell and tell Hubs to get his own shaving cream or whatever because I truly enjoy shopping. Crazy, I know. I can waste more time wandering up and down aisles in Meijer. But only when I’m not in a hurry and they’re not super busy. (Always have to check the end caps for clearance items, these items change frequently). But it does kinda tick me off that Hubs can’t simply put the items he wants or needs ON MY LIST. SOMETIME BEFORE I GO TO THE STORE.
Hubs is not good at making his own lists. Much less following, admiring, appreciating or adhering to mine. Constant supervision and encouragement are needed (often with a gentle nudge from an electric cattle prod) when giving Hubs a list or insisting he make his own before running errands. If I feel further instructions necessary, his brown eyes glaze over and the headlights grow dim. I know he will need some Saturday morning cartoons to decompress before moving forward. Recently however, one of Hubs favorite childhood treats has appeared on my lists. Written in his own hand. And it stinking cracks me up. Almost weekly. OK, he sees my list on the counter everyday, yet somehow this is the only addition he sees fit to add. Walnut Crush? Dude.
|Hubs crazy additions to my grocery list. Do you feel my pain?|
Although it’s crystal clear my use of constant lists drives everyone around me crazy, the exact same lists continue to keep me sane. I consider this a win-win…