Self Employed Again

We are all aware of the changes in our lives the past few months. Here are a few I have noticed. Feel free to add you own observations.

1. Life has slowed down. 2. Some people have forgotten how to drive. 3. Fewer people tailgate. Social distancing? 4. Restaurants are learning how to wrap take out. 5. Rear view mirrors now sport masks instead of dice. 6. Essential workers as well as armed service people are being thanked for their service. 7. Let’s hope the good stays and we use this pandemic to become better people.

As a writer, my time is my own. No longer does the routine consist of panic Monday. Get up, wish it weren’t a workday, coffee in a to go cup, hopefully car has gas, drive 45 minutes, having been stuck in traffic while listening to podcasts about self employed people.

Put in 8 or so hours,get in the car, 45 minutes stuck in traffic,listen to classical music, check out the New England architecture while waiting for traffic to move.

Get home, change into barn clothes and decompress. Repeat next four days.

Self employment means working Saturdays and Sundays, while everyone else is running around trying to get errands down and cramming a little fun in their two days in between house work and kids sports events.

It also means taking Monday off, if I wish, and using my to go cup to hold my Gin and Tonic.

The plan. 20 hours a week, is probably close to the 40 hours others might spend at jobs. No small talk upon arrival or during the day. No coat removal, no meetings, no lunch break. The dog interaction, if dogs are in your office, is the same.

A wise gardener once said if you pull one weed your garden will be weeded. The Lays effect. Settle down to write for a couple of hours and BAM, the day is done. This post started as the germ of an idea and now 2 hours have passed. Rusty wants to go for a hike . And since my other blog mikicc.wordpress.com is about southern NH trails guess my day is full.

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Remember those lists? Can’t find mine. Was sitting in the garden slugging my black coffee, feeding the black flies and thought, “better put weed eat on list”. Been so long since I crossed anything off, now I can’t find it.

Things get done but priorities have changed.

Hours are better spent in the woods with my hiking buddies Ruby and Rusty. mikicc.wordpress.com

Or, on the back of my mares Calypso and Rhumba who were hoping they could retire.

Or, enjoying the garden, pulling a weed here and there.

My adorable husband and I suffer no ill effects. Since he is on the phone or his laptop. In the evenings I can get caught up with Dr. Who, finish my AWAI copy-writing course www.awai.com or hone my blogging skills with Problogger www.problogger.com. Finishing off with a good book in bed.

I am a list maker. Back in my employed by another days there was a list of chores for every weekend. One by one a line would snake through accomplishments. Those not completed moved to the next weekend.

It has been almost three months since my laying off. Today was momentous.  My weekend list has not been removed. Wednesday the list exists, and today that is acceptable.  Sundays are no longer weekend deadlines.  This stuff will get done. Without deadlines coasting can happen. Without deadlines lists may also get longer. One page is now two. No panic. There is tomorrow and the next day, and the next….

With luck some were eliminated during the week, this was not to be counted on.

My mind set has been adjusted. My new normal accomplishes just as much, perhaps more, but on a different time frame.

I love to read and during this isolation time I have even more time to get to the end of the great books by my bed.

Three books going at once fills my need for variety as well as continued enjoyment of great literature.

Last night I approached the end of one of my favorites “The Wilderness Warrior ” by Douglas Brinkley. “Yes!” I cried in my head. There on pages 704 and 705 were, in plain black type, those feelings I had often ruminated on myself.

January 2009, Professor Chris Darimount (google him) stated in an issue of “Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences ” ; “Modern day hunters, by aiming for the ‘mightiest’ and the ‘lordliest’ big game had left surviving generations with a slimmer, less sturdy gene pool.”

Mark Twain believed that “…selective hunting causes the decline of the very species that __ outdoorsmen want saved.”

My husband has hunted trophy deer and I apologize to them daily.

The meat was not wasted. But, what of the gene pool? Is it not better to leave such an impressive animal free to beget more impressive bucks? That big bull moose, large black bear, should they not be allowed to pass on their impressive genes instead of hanging on someone’s wall?

I am not against hunting for meat and hunters are largely responsible for most of the land conservation in this country, but perhaps we should change our ways a little so future generations can marvel at the magnificence of these animals.

These are ramblings that I am sure will gall many of my readers across the country, but please, think about the survival of the fittest. Perhaps hold off pulling that trigger to get your trophy. After all, most antlers are not eaten.

Some people think I am a good gardener. True, things grow. But things die too.

I have never been able to pinch seedlings for instance. God is not a roll I am good at. “You, seedling, are out of here.” They end up being transplanted, and then dying, but, they were given a chance and blew it.

Today, a sunny day. A novelty for this New England April. Rains are due back day after tomorrow. The soil was soaked from the past two days.

Time to plant all those hopeful little container plants and sow the wildflowers on my husband’s horse’s grave. The grave was a labor of love. Aged manure moved from the pile he helped build, mixed with sand, hoed, rolled, seeded, rolled again

A granite marker was thrown together from stones found while working with the hoe.

Gardening is a hopeful endeavor. We plant the seeds or bulbs and hope they grow. We imagine beautiful flowers, or food for our table. I shall hold on to that hope. It’s a good thing to enjoy right now

As I wander through another snow filled spring day Paul Simon’s voice reverberates. And truthfully, yes. And no.

Black. We are staying home and self isolating or practicing good hygiene and distancing. Not hugging those we love. Not walking arm in arm down a crowded street.

White. We begin to realise how creative we can be. And perhaps begin to develop skills we knew we had but did not have time for. Or, perhaps given time to reflect, we allow new skills to flourish.

Perhaps Mother Nature is telling us: “Do not open for business too soon.” “Do not plant too soon.” For if you do there will be consequences.

Stay safe. Stay smart. Learn to enjoy the little things in life. This snow storm will melt away and the gardens will flourish.