These are always a great hit when I serve them at parties, as they’re rich and crumbly like shortbread cookies but they aren’t sweet, so they’re nice for people who don’t like sweets or are staying away from them, but they’re still, well, cookies. And there are rarely more than a few left at the end of the evening. They’re no more labor-intensive than regular cookies, especially if you do what I tell you and roll them into balls instead of rolling them out.
Don’t Skip Over the Present
I’ve been writing quite a bit recently about two subjects: tools and planning. As I write this I’m facing two rather frantic days as I prepare for tomorrow night’s concert and reception. Yesterday I got all of my grocery shopping done, a task that I would normally have put off until today. So that means that today can be solely dedicated to food prep that can be done ahead, housework, and going over my music. We have our second concert-week rehearsal this evening, which will be fraught with the usual angst over our entrances and exits. (Why we can’t just have a standard procedure that we always follow is beyond me, but I guess it keeps us from getting complacent.)
The previous paragraph was written on Thursday, May 7, but I didn’t finish and post it. So now I can do so from the perspective of looking back at the events I was looking forward to at the time, if that makes sense. I reminded myself a number of times while all the hoopla was going on that I needed to pay attention to what was happening right then, whether it was loading the car or singing the concert or cleaning up the kitchen Saturday (a task that was mitigated by Jim’s wonderful help in serial dishwasher-loading.) And what happened? Well . . .
It didn’t go perfectly. Big surprise. I had worked, and worked, and worked some more on the music, and yet I didn’t feel totally confident either night in the performance. Saturday I never did just sit down and spend half an hour going over everything, with the result that my rendition of “Balia Di Sehu” that night was probably less articulated than Friday’s version. (We all struggled with memorization on this piece. The link is to a fabulous performance at a high-school choir festival.) You can fail to keep up the effort and and therefore fail to reap the full benefits of early preparation. I felt that the party wound down way too soon on Friday. I never got my third non-Chorale helper, so a few things fell through the cracks. (The picture is of setup in the fellowship hall before the hordes descended.) I took my snow scraper out of the car Friday to make room for the food, with the result that I had to clean off the heavy, wet snow on Saturday night with my umbrella. At least I had that along.
And you know what? It’s okay. There were plenty of things that went very, very well. People raved about the food Friday night. (The strawberry tarts were gobbled up without a trace.) We had a great crowd Saturday evening in spite of the snow. I didn’t sing perfectly but I was prepared more thoroughly than I had ever been for a concert. And, most importantly, the Chorale itself did great. My little contributions weren’t all that important in the grand scheme of things. Get over yourself. Debi! There are plenty of people who work hard at something and don’t succeed perfectly. (In that same vein of keeping one’s perspective on one’s own importance, I must, must, must include a link here to Gretchen Rubin’s blog post of today which I just read. Great stuff!)
And because I did make a conscious effort to savor the present, at least some of the time, I can look back on the event with pleasure and happiness. More and more I see the importance of embracing the moment, hokey as that phrase sounds. I hope to do an even better job of being prepared for the performance of Beethoven’s Ninth that is coming up Friday evening with the Arapahoe Philharmonic Orchestra. Follow the link to buy your tickets if you’re so inclined. And come early to hear the pre-concert lecture by the orchestra’s rock star of a conductor, Devin Hughes, as well as our conductor, Brian Patrick Leatherman, and the composer of the concert’s opening piece, Edgar Girtain.
The previous paragraph was written on Thursday, May 7, but I didn’t finish and post it. So now I can do so from the perspective of looking back at the events I was looking forward to at the time, if that makes sense. I reminded myself a number of times while all the hoopla was going on that I needed to pay attention to what was happening right then, whether it was loading the car or singing the concert or cleaning up the kitchen Saturday (a task that was mitigated by Jim’s wonderful help in serial dishwasher-loading.) And what happened? Well . . .
It didn’t go perfectly. Big surprise. I had worked, and worked, and worked some more on the music, and yet I didn’t feel totally confident either night in the performance. Saturday I never did just sit down and spend half an hour going over everything, with the result that my rendition of “Balia Di Sehu” that night was probably less articulated than Friday’s version. (We all struggled with memorization on this piece. The link is to a fabulous performance at a high-school choir festival.) You can fail to keep up the effort and and therefore fail to reap the full benefits of early preparation. I felt that the party wound down way too soon on Friday. I never got my third non-Chorale helper, so a few things fell through the cracks. (The picture is of setup in the fellowship hall before the hordes descended.) I took my snow scraper out of the car Friday to make room for the food, with the result that I had to clean off the heavy, wet snow on Saturday night with my umbrella. At least I had that along.
And you know what? It’s okay. There were plenty of things that went very, very well. People raved about the food Friday night. (The strawberry tarts were gobbled up without a trace.) We had a great crowd Saturday evening in spite of the snow. I didn’t sing perfectly but I was prepared more thoroughly than I had ever been for a concert. And, most importantly, the Chorale itself did great. My little contributions weren’t all that important in the grand scheme of things. Get over yourself. Debi! There are plenty of people who work hard at something and don’t succeed perfectly. (In that same vein of keeping one’s perspective on one’s own importance, I must, must, must include a link here to Gretchen Rubin’s blog post of today which I just read. Great stuff!)
And because I did make a conscious effort to savor the present, at least some of the time, I can look back on the event with pleasure and happiness. More and more I see the importance of embracing the moment, hokey as that phrase sounds. I hope to do an even better job of being prepared for the performance of Beethoven’s Ninth that is coming up Friday evening with the Arapahoe Philharmonic Orchestra. Follow the link to buy your tickets if you’re so inclined. And come early to hear the pre-concert lecture by the orchestra’s rock star of a conductor, Devin Hughes, as well as our conductor, Brian Patrick Leatherman, and the composer of the concert’s opening piece, Edgar Girtain.
Where Are You on the Wave of Work?
Both of these guys are technically “under” the load of work, but one’s in control and one’s not. One’s getting somewhere and one’s drowning.
Let me tell a story here about my days as a high-school teacher. I was absolutely terrible at keeping up with my papergrading during my first four years. That guy clinging to the raft had nothing on me. After a break from teaching I went back, this time determined to do better. I just couldn’t live that way for the rest of my life, I thought. So I came up with a plan, an unwitting accommodation to my Obliger nature, in which I simply told my students when they’d get their papers back. Then I had to get them done. It was as simple as that. Suddenly I was surfing along on my work. The workload itself had not shrunk; in fact, it had gotten much bigger because of the nature of the new classes I was teaching. But I had gained a larger vision of what I wanted my life to be like, and that vision did not include an ever-looming pile of work that was always threatening to overwhelm me.
It never occurred to me that my students might be talking outside of class about my papergrading promptness, but of course they were. Students talk about everything that goes on in a classroom. So one day at lunch another teacher confronted me: I was making the rest of them look bad. His students were asking, “Why can’t you get our papers back to us as fast as Miss Baerg does?” But, he said, I was single and lived alone (true) and he was married with two small children and heavily involved with ministries at church on the weekends (also true). So there was no way he could get his papers graded as fast as I did. For him, the wave had broken over his head. I didn’t know how to answer him and kind of spluttered and sputtered.
But now, looking back on that conversation, I wish I’d said something like: “Yes, your life is much more crowded with commitments than mine is. I can hole up for a weekend and do nothing but grade papers; that’s impossible for you.” (Although I will add an editorial comment here and point out that his ministry commitments, while laudable, were his choice.) “So it’s even more important for you than for me to keep caught up on your work, because you have far less wiggle room in your schedule than I do.” I think this guy was one of several men on the faculty who were known for regularly staying up all night to get papers graded. We were teaching in a small private Christian school and the salaries weren’t large. In order to support a family, most married men had extra jobs on the weekends. My only dependent was a Chihuahua, and she didn’t eat much.
But the principle remains, then and now: the bigger the wave, the greater the need to stay on top. It’s easier to keep up than to catch up, as the old saying goes. Old sayings become old because they’re true. (Usually.) So, in the spirit of keeping up, I’m continuing my planning for the Friday night reception of the Cherry Creek Chorale. The newest recipe posted for this event is one for Lemon-Raspberry Cream Cupcakes. I hope to keep surfing along on this particular wave!
Let me tell a story here about my days as a high-school teacher. I was absolutely terrible at keeping up with my papergrading during my first four years. That guy clinging to the raft had nothing on me. After a break from teaching I went back, this time determined to do better. I just couldn’t live that way for the rest of my life, I thought. So I came up with a plan, an unwitting accommodation to my Obliger nature, in which I simply told my students when they’d get their papers back. Then I had to get them done. It was as simple as that. Suddenly I was surfing along on my work. The workload itself had not shrunk; in fact, it had gotten much bigger because of the nature of the new classes I was teaching. But I had gained a larger vision of what I wanted my life to be like, and that vision did not include an ever-looming pile of work that was always threatening to overwhelm me.
It never occurred to me that my students might be talking outside of class about my papergrading promptness, but of course they were. Students talk about everything that goes on in a classroom. So one day at lunch another teacher confronted me: I was making the rest of them look bad. His students were asking, “Why can’t you get our papers back to us as fast as Miss Baerg does?” But, he said, I was single and lived alone (true) and he was married with two small children and heavily involved with ministries at church on the weekends (also true). So there was no way he could get his papers graded as fast as I did. For him, the wave had broken over his head. I didn’t know how to answer him and kind of spluttered and sputtered.
But now, looking back on that conversation, I wish I’d said something like: “Yes, your life is much more crowded with commitments than mine is. I can hole up for a weekend and do nothing but grade papers; that’s impossible for you.” (Although I will add an editorial comment here and point out that his ministry commitments, while laudable, were his choice.) “So it’s even more important for you than for me to keep caught up on your work, because you have far less wiggle room in your schedule than I do.” I think this guy was one of several men on the faculty who were known for regularly staying up all night to get papers graded. We were teaching in a small private Christian school and the salaries weren’t large. In order to support a family, most married men had extra jobs on the weekends. My only dependent was a Chihuahua, and she didn’t eat much.
But the principle remains, then and now: the bigger the wave, the greater the need to stay on top. It’s easier to keep up than to catch up, as the old saying goes. Old sayings become old because they’re true. (Usually.) So, in the spirit of keeping up, I’m continuing my planning for the Friday night reception of the Cherry Creek Chorale. The newest recipe posted for this event is one for Lemon-Raspberry Cream Cupcakes. I hope to keep surfing along on this particular wave!
Is There Ever Discipline without Deprivation?
In other words, in order to exert the effort to accomplish a goal, do you always have to give something up? The short answer is yes. If I do A, I can’t at one and the same time do B. I have to give B up. I can’t at one and the same time waste my time reading about the JonBenet Ramsey murder case and also do something productive. (I don’t know exactly why I’ve recently allowed myself to get drawn into that horrible quagmire all over again, but once I say to myself, “I’ll just google this really quick and see if there’s anything new” I might as well shoot myself in the foot and be done with it.)
We need discipline only when we have conflicting goals; the essence of discipline is that we’re making a choice. It takes no discipline to run from a tornado. Choices don’t have to be painful, though. You shouldn’t think of them as being in the same category as that of Travis Bickle’s holding his fist over the gas burner in Taxi Driver. We can also set up our lives so that the potential for making the wrong choice is minimized. An acquaintance once said, “I tell myself that I deserve a candy bar when I stop at the gas station.” She was explaining why she couldn’t lose weight–not that anyone had asked her about it. She obviously felt very defensive about her lack of success in this area. But look at how she was shooting herself in her foot. Even though this was many years ago, paying by credit card at the pump was doable. They didn’t have candy bars right next to the windshield-cleaning tools. You had to go inside to be exposed to the KitKats. So she shouldn’t have gone in there! She needed to change her thoughts (I “deserve” a candy bar), but she could also help herself by changing her actions.
TIME magazine published an article in 2013 on the subject of self-discipline, drawing on research done by the Association for Psychological Science. Are self-disciplined people happier, or do they tend to be joyless killjoys? And of course they’re happier. We all know that. We all know that when we have conflicting goals, 99% of the time a short-term indulgence vs. a long-term accomplishment, that we will not be happy if we give in to the short-term indulgence. I’ve been struggling with this issue for ages. Over 25 years ago I wrote:
So what does this magic word “discipline” actually mean? It means that, when you have it, you do what you ought to do , and nut just what you want to do. “How dreary!” I hear you say. Well, not really. It is actually the chronically undisciplined person’s life that is dreary. She is constantly nagged by thoughts of what ought to be done and isn’t; she’s caught at the last minute with preparations unmade; her life tends to be one long frantic game of catchup. The disciplined person, on the other hand, has a far more serene life . . . Her preparations are made. She has a tremendous feeling of accomplishment at the end of most days. Those frantic zero-hour nervous breakdowns don’t happen to her. . . . I have found that one of the most helpful things I can do on a purely human level to develop discipline is to visualize as intensely and clearly as I can what the consequences will be if I don’t do what I’m supposed to do, vs. what will happen if I do it.
Hmmm. Pretty good advice. Trying to look back on the choice from the future as I make the choice in the present. Mental gymnastics of a sort, or perhaps more like mental time travel. Whatever it is, I need to do it before plugging in that search term!
See the complete article on self-discipline and happiness here.
Inanimate Objects Aren’t Out to Get You!
Why is it that inanimate objects seem to conspire against us when we’re in a hurry and running late? This morning I was rushing around to get ready for a luncheon I was hosting for my Bible study group. Although I had by no means been as beforehand as I could have been, I was doing pretty well on prep. I had the table set, the fruit cut up, the cold cuts and cheese arranged on a platter, the rolls baked, the kitchen cleaned up. But time was indeed hastening on, and my one goal was that I absolutely would not walk in late, as I often do, since if I did so today it would be clear that I was late because of the luncheon. So, since I was in a hurry, I was indulging in the common fantasy that the laws of nature, in this case gravity, would not apply. Since I didn’t want to make two trips, I was trying to balance my notebook, wallet and keys on top of a couple of cantaloupes in a box so that I could take them (the cantaloupes, that is) out into the laundry room where they’d be out of sight and then continue on into the garage. So, of course, the keys fell on the floor with a crash and the notebook followed, with the rings opening and the papers strewing out. (Yes, the picture was staged. I sure didn’t have time to take a picture right then!) I was irate! Why on earth did this have to happen when I had didn’t have time to deal with it? And of course the answer is right there in the question: it happened because I didn’t have time to deal with it. I was trying to take an unworkable shortcut. If I hadn’t been in such a hurry I wouldn’t have attempted it.
I was reminded of an anecdote by Don Aslett, a well-known efficiency expert:
A young woman unloading her car had a back seat full of stuff to carry into a building. To take the fullest advantage of the trip, she piled on last ceramic bowl in a precarious position atop an armload. As she started up the steps the beautiful bowl rolled off and smashed on the concrete, and out came that old “after the fall” remark: “I just knew that would happen.”
Have you ever stopped to consider that at least three quarters of the time foulups are predictable?
(Don Aslett, How to Handle 1,000 Things at Once, Marsh Creek Press, 1997).
The key words in that passage are “Have you ever stopped to consider . . . ?” No, in the heat of the moment that’s just what you don’t do. That’s why inanimate objects (and sometimes animate ones) seem to conspire against you at the worst possible time. It’s not their doing; it’s yours. Those red lights that seem to pop up when you’re racing to get somewhere aren’t timed to delay you; it’s just that when you’re late you notice them more. That door that swings back and closes when you’re trying to get through with an armload isn’t out to get you; it’s just that you’re so heavily laden that you can’t move fast enough to stop it from closing. I don’t think I’m the only one who experiences this very common frustration.
So what’s the remedy? Slow down. Think. I tell a story in my book about being twenty minutes late for an appointment because I (thought I) didn’t have enough time to look up the directions online. So I didn’t know exactly where I was going and ended up wandering around a very large shopping center looking for a very well-hidden restaurant. My original lateness and lack of planning caused the lateness.
I would highly recommend anything by Don Aslett, by the way. He writes about time management and housecleaning. (He runs a janitorial business.) I think my favorites are How to Have a 48-Hour Day and Clutter’s Last Stand. I foresee many opportunities to put his principles into action over the next couple of weeks, especially as I plan and carry out the reception for the Cherry Creek Chorale‘s wonderful upcoming concert. I’m going to try the mindful approach. We’ll see what happens.
I was reminded of an anecdote by Don Aslett, a well-known efficiency expert:
A young woman unloading her car had a back seat full of stuff to carry into a building. To take the fullest advantage of the trip, she piled on last ceramic bowl in a precarious position atop an armload. As she started up the steps the beautiful bowl rolled off and smashed on the concrete, and out came that old “after the fall” remark: “I just knew that would happen.”
Have you ever stopped to consider that at least three quarters of the time foulups are predictable?
(Don Aslett, How to Handle 1,000 Things at Once, Marsh Creek Press, 1997).
The key words in that passage are “Have you ever stopped to consider . . . ?” No, in the heat of the moment that’s just what you don’t do. That’s why inanimate objects (and sometimes animate ones) seem to conspire against you at the worst possible time. It’s not their doing; it’s yours. Those red lights that seem to pop up when you’re racing to get somewhere aren’t timed to delay you; it’s just that when you’re late you notice them more. That door that swings back and closes when you’re trying to get through with an armload isn’t out to get you; it’s just that you’re so heavily laden that you can’t move fast enough to stop it from closing. I don’t think I’m the only one who experiences this very common frustration.
So what’s the remedy? Slow down. Think. I tell a story in my book about being twenty minutes late for an appointment because I (thought I) didn’t have enough time to look up the directions online. So I didn’t know exactly where I was going and ended up wandering around a very large shopping center looking for a very well-hidden restaurant. My original lateness and lack of planning caused the lateness.
I would highly recommend anything by Don Aslett, by the way. He writes about time management and housecleaning. (He runs a janitorial business.) I think my favorites are How to Have a 48-Hour Day and Clutter’s Last Stand. I foresee many opportunities to put his principles into action over the next couple of weeks, especially as I plan and carry out the reception for the Cherry Creek Chorale‘s wonderful upcoming concert. I’m going to try the mindful approach. We’ll see what happens.
Don’t Fuss at Yourself!
The first sentence of the introduction to my book says, “I just got back from a wonderful women’s retreat.” Well, guess what? I just got back from another one. Really, really great. Food, conversations, speaker, the whole ball of wax and enchilada. But remember how I kind of spoiled things for myself recently because I was so worried that no one was going to show up at a book signing I attended? Well, I just did the same thing this past weekend: I fussed at myself for some very minor missteps. Why wasn’t my packing more organized?
A Happiness Paradox
If I plan ahead for an event and am able to relax and enjoy it, I’m sorry when it’s all over. If I procrastinate and have lots of last-minute anxiety, it’s a tremendous relief to have the event behind me. These strange feelings have become especially obvious to me as I’ve looked back on the retreat breakfasts I’ve overseen this year for my wonderful chorale. (But we still have one more concert, and therefore one more Friday-night reception for me to agonize over.)
Tool Costs
I seem to be on a tool tear, as it were. Over the past several weeks I’ve written about using Scrivener as a writing tool, my little laptop as a bill-paying tool, and habits as tools to help lend structure to my life. But . . . I’ve also emphasized that tools don’t do the work for us. So I’m dedicating this post to two non-tool-users, Woody Allen and K. Lee ScottEasy and Versatile Goat Cheese Spread
I made this for a women’s tea at my church and it was quite popular. It was also the easiest item on the menu. You can throw it together at the last minute and still get rave reviews.
Habits Are Just Tools!
Here’s what I want: to move along doing the grungy stuff on automatic pilot while I think great thoughts. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Suddenly, at the end of the day, I’d realize that every task had been done perfectly but that I hadn’t had to exert any effort to do them. All done through the magical power of habits and routines. We all know, though, that it ain’t never gonna happen. And guess what? it would be a shame if it did