Going Inkless

     I've never been one to make New Year's resolutions.  It's not that I don't believe in self-reflection or the power of declaring your intent to make positive changes in your life.  I don't think I'm perfect or that I don't need those little adjustments.  We're all capable of honing ourselves by whittling away the bad habits and starting new healthy ones.  It's just always felt a bit artificial to make some grand pronouncement about how you will change just because the old calendar is going in the trash can. (And if you're going to make a change, how about putting it in the recycling bin or investigating ideas for turning it into something new?)  When it's timely to change my ways, I will.  I won't wait for January 1, and I won't doom myself to failure by trying changes I'm not ready for just because I feel new year pressure.      Nevertheless, I do make Chinese New Year resolutions.  Not logical.  I know.  ...

     I cringe when I hear someone called "crafty", and I doubt I will ever feel comfortable using the word on someone who does crafts.  This is one of those situations where common misuse legitimizes an error, like the modern spelling of "donut".  What was once improper becomes not only accepted, but more commonly used than the original.  Language changes with use.  It is alive that way, and I fully accept that describing someone as crafty now means that they either enjoy doing crafts or excel at them, or some combination of the two.  It just doesn't sit right that way in my vocabulary.      When I first encountered the word, it didn't apply to crafts at all.  If you were good with your hands or inclined to crochet, whittle or make collages, people might say you were creative, talented or industrious.  To say you were crafty would be mildly insulting.  It meant you were up to something, something that probably had l...

     We make promises to ourselves, and we break them.  We feel guilty, and the guilt can even eclipse the real consequences of the broken promise.  Guilt, or the threat of it, is a tool we use to keep ourselves on task, but that tactic can turn on us.  Too many broken promises, and you learn not to make them.  It's hard to make the leap from "want" to "goal" when you're afraid you're not good enough to get it done.  So you stay where it's safe, and you sacrifice the possibility of accomplishment to "someday."      Here's the truth that you need to swallow before you can make good things happen in your life: You are destined to fail. You will promise yourself things that you won't be able to deliver.  You will set goals you never reach.  It may be circumstances beyond your control that knock you off that ladder; it may be that the timing wasn't right for success, but you will fail. Sometimes. and then, sometimes,...

This morning, I was amused by the irony that it has taken me so long to write this post on procrastination. The idea has been ripening in the back of my mind for some time, but the words just never fell into place. Every time I sat down to write, I found other things to do. It's strange how the desire to do something the right way can prevent you from doing it at all. Fear of missteps keeps your foot off the path, or the knowledge that you may never finish the journey keeps you from ever starting. Sometimes you plan or dream, but wait for the circumstances to align before you take the leap. It's the wise thing to do. Pick your moment. You'll be better equipped to get the job done. You'll be able to do the most good. But, while you wait, opportunities slip by. Inaction can swallow up a life. It's common enough in writing. Obviously, I fall into the trap now and then, and many of my friends who write have confessed to writer's block, stalling for mon...

One of our daughters is earning her B.A. this summer. I suppose it's the sort of thing that happens all the time. Summers are full of graduation celebrations, and it is, after all, the aim of every university to put diplomas in the hands of most of their students. Our daughter's story, while not unique, is certainly notable, though. She is the first in my branch of the family tree to earn one. While my sisters and I, my mother and grandmother all completed high school, and some have even taken college level courses, none have finished with a degree. More common in my family are stories like my father's. He quit seventh grade in order to go to work and help support his family. My great-grandmother had only a year or two of formal schooling before she had to devote herself to the farm. None of these dropouts stopped learning. All recognized the value of education and sought out opportunities to learn. Dad filled notebooks with equations figuring air speed and lift a...