fragments and scraps


I am a list maker. I am a note scribbler. I am scrawler of ideas.

There is a note pad in the kitchen reserved for both the grocery list (on the left hand side) and household chores/general errands (on the right; underscores separate each task). A small, spiral bound notebook resides in my purse dedicated to rehearsal notes, assorted to-dos (weapons maintenance, archery practice, get uke restrung), password changes (which are inevitably invalid, as I’ve since changed them again). The Note app on my iPhone is chocka with imperatives. My desk hosts a stack of index cards and sheets of paper upon which I’ll note songs I want to learn, workout ideas, fitness stats, recipes I’d like to try. Craft projects, songs to download, things that are making the people at Pop Culture Happy Hour happy each week. Often the errand/duty list will join these, as I want to be certain to complete any unfinished business.

While I can’t speak to the state of the purse-notebook, today I attacked the stack of desk notes. There were greeting cards mixed in, as well as a couple of handwritten letters that want a reply. Some photographs, mostly of the Renaissance Faire variety, were set aside for later perusal. Once a few receipts, the property tax receipt from 2013, and a few business cards were winnowed out, it was time to get serious. My heart leapt a bit each time I found items that were scored through; I could skim past them and on to the next bit. Had to give a bit more focus to the almost-legible fragments, as well as those that were legible-but-cryptic. “Hat and hand thingy reminder!” “Falchions? Blue tape markers gloves” “Find harmony or alternate if you can.” Sure, past Kelly. I’ll get right on that.

In all the tumult, two words leapt out. Repeatedly: Blog. Write. Fine, you crazy note pile. I’m on it.

Ukulele, photography, exercise, Kerry, song, archery, SIL, wedding, choreography, and recipe show up regularly. I’ve got cards and lists going back to autumn of 2013. The word Mom is everywhere. I hesitate, ridiculous though it be, to discard any of those mentions.

All of those notes, those scraps of paper, the index cards, are snapshots of my whirring brain and my best intentions. I’ll likely keep using them to remind myself, to remember. Fine. But it’s time to level up. To focus, to create, to meet deadlines, to get stuff done.

To blog. To write.

To share.


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