I got into a conversation last night with my mother-in-law about cookware. The reason for this discussion was a mistake I’d made about not checking inside the oven before turning it on. She stores some of her pans in there, and I fried two handle covers. But I’d discovered that I could order replacement ones, so I’d told her about that, and then somehow we started talking about various metals that are used for pots and pans, and she mentioned that someone who’d stayed with them many years ago had given her a set of copper pans with a cooktop included. “Where is it?” I asked, intrigued. “Oh, somewhere in the garage. I’ve never used it–I don’t have room for it. I’d have to use it on top of the stove, and that wouldn’t make any sense–I’d be using it on top of the burners that are already there.”
When I went into the garage just now to look for it I realized that the quest was hopeless, mainly because all of our stuff is in there, plus a lot that had to be moved out of the downstairs to make room for us.
Yet another blog post generated from a Gretchen Rubin idea. (I guess at some point I’ll have to start paying her a commission.) She had 
Yesterday I took on the Big Question of free will vs. fate. Today I’m talking about cleaning out my Sonicare toothbrush. No one can accuse me of being in a rut!
We’re always told to plan ahead, look to the future, and keep our eyes on the goal. For me, though, that’s pretty terrible advice. I tend to be like the guy in the picture. There I am, up on the ladder, gazing into the future, and my feet aren’t on the ground of the present. I can imagine myself having lots of speaking engagements, or selling lots of books, or whatever. I have what I would call goals, but I’m not very good at being sure that TODAY, right now, I’m doing what needs to be done that will move me along the way to the desired result. As I say in the chapter on “Motivations, Goals and Desires” in my book (see sidebar for ordering information), “A goal without a plan is just a wish.”
At 9:00 last night I told Jim that I was going to take a look at a documentary that was airing on our PBS station but that I thought I probably wouldn’t watch much of it, as it sounded pretty depressing. The title of the film was “
I wrote last week about John Piper’s book 
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 Scott
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