SUNDAY, SUNDAY...SO GOOD TO ME...

I used to love Fridays the best, especially during my years in the paid workforce, especially when I was younger and TGIF held more promise than a night of binge-watching Netflix in my Jammie-clothes.  Fridays always felt like a party and often ended in one.  Friends gathering, Happy Hour, Date Night...all that stuff felt spontaneous and fun and vibrant and carefree.  Friday had just turned 21!

Then kids came along and my TGIF meant I was no longer single parenting, when Hub was generally home with us and not at work or other evening obligations, and I had some help with the boys who had run me ragged all week.  It was pizza night or movie night or family swim night with friends and their kids.  I was still "working" but not alone on the job.   Friday flirted with being a Partier, but was much more tired and a little more tattered.

Later, Friday was a respite from a calendar chockfull of evening obligations to attend groups and meetings.  We were involved in so many things in the community, our church, personal growth events that nearly every night of the workweek was scheduled.  On Friday we took a breath.  Sometimes.  Friday was middle-aged and trying to just keep time until Monday when it would all start again.

After retirement, Friday still has a burnished glow, a reminiscence of old times with the feel of a holiday, but it's not the beacon of light and relief it once was.  It's not all that different from the other nights.  We bid out granddaughter goodbye and clean up the house of all evidence of a two year old having taking over on Thursday and Friday on our Papa-Care and Granny-Nanny days.  We high-five each other for having made it through another week; we cook dinner, we watch Rachel Maddow, we watch some TV show or movie we've recorded earlier in the week, we go to bed at 10:00.  Friday is growing older; getting quieter, but still up for a laugh or two, if not a full guffaw.  Definitely not a party; more like a deep sigh.  I like Fridays, but...

Now, my favorite day is Sunday.  There are no expectations of Sunday.  Sunday dawns with no plan and no commitment.  Sunday is a blank slate.  Sunday is there to make and mold and become whatever I decide it will be.   Since I left my church two years ago, I don't even have to get up and make myself presentable for public view, don't have to be somewhere at a certain time, nor stay late for a social gathering or committee meeting.  Sundays used to be "half-days" since by the time we got home it was 1:00 or after.  Now I get a full, long, luxurious day to .... do nothing much at all.

So, I don't have much to show for my Sundays -- by design.  I give myself permission to be flat-out lazy.  In the fall, like now, I throw on my Seahawks hoodie with a pair of yoga pants, grab a cup of coffee, read the paper, scroll through Facebook, meditate.  Then I might make some pancakes - a Sunday treat - and chat with Hub over late breakfast.  By early afternoon we get snacks ready and watch the Seahawks game together.  Then I might read, crochet, decide when to watch our Sunday night programs -- choosing among our current Sunday night line-up of Outlander,  John Oliver, Parts Unknown, and returning next week, Good Behavior.  We don't watch them all, of course...we save some for mid-week.  But the point is, Sunday is a day of slovenly rest for me (but a workout for my DVR).   Sunday is chill.  Sunday is contentment.  Sunday is me being in the flow of "being" with no agenda.  I guard my Sundays with a pit bull's intensity.  My calendar rarely has anything scheduled and if so, it's with some reluctance and regret at times.

I remember the excitement of Friday -- like the wind in my hair on the back of a motorcycle.  But for now, give me a Sunday -- a mug of coffee, a warm blanket, and my remote control.

At least, that's the view from here...©

LET'S COLOR!

Here's a link to an article I saw online this morning about how doing art is a stress-reliever.
http://mentalfloss.com/article/81929/making-art-can-relieve-stress-any-skill-level

That explains it.

I have become addicted to adult coloring books.  (Hmmm....sounds rather racy; maybe I should say coloring books for adults?)

Here is my latest book, among the half-dozen I've already completed.  Hub gave it to me for Christmas and I made myself hold off on starting it until I finished the others.  I realize this is a bit OCD.  We will not go there; I'm already in a fragile state due to the political undoing of our country.

I've never considered myself to be a creative visual artist.  I've taken some photographs I like and feel they are artfully composed, but I can't draw, paint, or sculpt "freehand" with any degree of confidence or artistry. I like simple collage because I feel it is a forgiving medium -- until I see those collage artists who do it so masterfully and I realize my attempts are elementary and amateurish.

And then along came the adult coloring book phenomenon.  (Yes, I said it again, but you know what I mean.)  Someone else came up with the designs and all I gotta do is find the type of coloring utensil I like best and go to it!  I've settled on brush tip watercolor pens.  Oh, how the color glides over the paper!  So satisfying!  I have no patience for the fine tips, so my colors often overlap the lines, but who cares?  I also often do it in the low light conditions of a small lamp while watching TV and the next morning I'm amazed at the amount of white still showing through some areas of my painting, but again, who cares?

I fully and completely realize I am NOT doing this coloring so much to create art as to relax and de-stress.  The minute I haul out my book and dump out my pens, my heart rate slows, my breathing is deeper, and I can watch the nightly talking heads on MSNBC and CNN without quaking (too much).

I don't plan anything ahead of time, choosing the colors as I go, making intuitive choices about what color goes where and never really knowing what the final result will be.  I find I am mostly satisfied and wonder what sub-conscious part of my brain is thinking for me.  It's definitely a totally "right brain" endeavor and I'm liking making friends with that part of me.  I'm learning to trust her choices.

So, here's a little gallery of my work.  Don't look too closely...oh, hell, who cares?  No apologies!  I'm having fun and de-stressing.  We all gotta do something to stay sane as the daily craziness from Washington DC engulfs our "left brain" which mostly has taken to repeating,  "WTF is going on here?  I can't believe what I'm seeing and hearing.  I don't get it.  It makes no sense."  Poor little left brain, always trying to make sense of things.  Just grab a marker and let it flow...

At least, that's the view from here...©