Blues, basketball, bunnies, beer…honestly, how boring can it be? On a Saturday night, the comfortable isn’t always enough. I need to be outside of my comfort zone. There are more and less productive ways to get there, and I am up for either one!
More true confessions: sometimes I get bored on the days when I decide to practice the slow and simple life. It’s just that simple. Or I’m just that simple. Simple enough to write about my supposed simple life on my iPhone 5!
I biked to the pool, did a little claim-jumping–chairs, good spot, the usual–biked to the library, borrowed some books and a DVD, biked home to grab forgotten items & prevent DVD from melting, and back to the pool. The public pool. St. Circe is now boring herself to tears. So sorry, dear readers!
While others slept, Simple Circe was lavishing tender loving care on peas and romaine lettuce. If the tomato plants are wilting, you know it’s bad! A direct western exposure on a 90-plus degree day means over 100 degrees in the sun. Then time to hang the laundry on the line. For the record, my donated second-hand, mini-Miele did the wash. No down by the river, brook, or trough today or any other day. As mentioned, one woman’s trash is another woman’s treasure.
Or is that confused, conflicted Circe? Despite my promise in an earlier post, my artichoke has yet to save the world. The little things we do just aren’t enough. They may be enough to assuage our guilt for a short while, & are, I firmly believe, never in vain, but they are not enough.
One “simple-lifer” around here just took a two-hour nap–yes, I’m jealous! That’s a simple act I would emulate if I only could! He is equally unconflicted about this evening. His unwavering plan is to watch the Pacers and Heat. I will join him. Watching a fast-moving basketball game slows down my own spinning wheels.
You knew the Pacers were going to win, didn’t you? They are an unusual team: A lot of 3-guards or small forward types. Coach can neither go big nor small, just medium-large. My greatest delight is to watch a ball-handler, a shooting point guard. But aside from more rimming out, it wasn’t a bad game. It is now Sunday, and I am still wrapping up Saturday.
What I cannot wrap up today or tomorrow is how I can remain a woman so divided: from franchise (corporate) sports late last night to a long hot morning picking organic strawberries and snap peas in a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) field.
“Think Globally. Act Locally” is a fine sentiment, along the lines of “charity begins at home,” but we now live in a “glocal” world. The global is local, and the local–act, purchase, and vote–resonates globally. We first-worlders, whether in the U.S., Canada, Sweden, Denmark, or Germany, are but well-intentioned hypocrites unless we adopt radically different lifestyles.
See you at the Bread and Puppet Theatre later this summer? Or maybe along El Camino de Compostela? More opportunity for thought. But does raising political awareness and allowing oneself meditative pilgrimage time bring about change? Maybe you will have moved into your solar-powered geodesic dome house, and I will be left to puzzle alone.