There’s this guy at work that kind of oversees those little fix-it type projects that come up from day to day. He has this habit of telling those of us who would like some kind of commitment as to a finish date, “You are not a priority.” It’s kind of interesting how that works because over the past few years that phrase has trickled down to those that work with him. And the rest of us are so use to hearing it, that we now just finish the sentence, if we even bother to ask.

Setting priorities has always been a problem for me because everything seems like one. This is a hazardous path that leads, at least for me, to maximum density - the sorry state that occurs when the only thing to do is work until there is nothing left for me, or my family. The remedy, when I finally realize what has happened, is down time. Ironically enough, I was forced into down time by the need to take vacation days - or lose them. So I did. In fact, we both did. Last week. I left work that Friday afternoon with a desk full and didn’t come back until a full nine days later, with a new list of priorities. And work isn’t one of them.

Don’t get me wrong. I still give it 150% while I am there, but the laptop stays on my desk when I go home. Granted, it has only been four days, but so far it’s working out pretty good. It was hard to go cold turkey, and I found myself walking a circle around even my home computer, but it was well worth it. I’ve had to draw a few lines in the sand, but I have stood my ground. They have posted for another position, and I am promised one more to follow. I guess the squeaky wheel sometimes does get the grease. That’s a good thing, because this tire was just about tread bare.

So here is my new list of priorities.

I’m going to plan some meals that will take full advantage of the herbs we planted amongst the flowers in the planters alongside the house. Dill, Parsley, Oregano, Rosemary, and Basil. That ought to keep me busy for awhile.

I’m going to sit on the balcony, with Willi and Cali, and watch the sprinkler wash over the garden we planted last week. The tree we cut down last summer had left us only shade. So we took full advantage of it’s absence by extending our patio another five feet and planted some vegies.

Already the peppers and tomatoes have promise of a fairly nice yield. And you know how I love real tomatoes. The kind that are red, juicy, and run down from your hands to your elbows when you eat them with a shaker of salt. Now that’s what I call a priority.

Next, I am going to pull the weeds that grow up between the beans. I learned this from my farmer friend, who taught me how to “walk the beans” back in the day. Our little patch of beans isn’t much more than two or three steps broad, so that shouldn’t be too difficult.

If things get really slow, I’m going to count the blades of grass as they sprout. Finally, after many years of dust, we will have turf. Well, sort of. The Creeping Charlie has pretty much had it’s way with what was left of the lawn. But at least it has some pretty little purple flowers. Lemonade from lemons, you know.

I honestly can’t say how much you will see of me. When the sun goes down I have been spending time with Willi, rather than sit at this computer. So please don’t think that you are not a priority, it’s just that there are so many others and I am trying to put them all in the right place.

Like this one, who will need more of my time as days go by - moving household and having a grandson in just a few short months. And this one, who I hope to be hearing from real soon. And Willi’s ones who will be with us this weekend. They would have to move to the top of anyone’s short list.

Particularly mine.

Today would have been my father’s 90th birthday. He’s been gone now for 35 years. He died just a few days shy of his 56th birthday, in the spring of 1974. One year after I graduated from high school. I was 18.

I can’t help feeling that I got the short end of the stick, even though I was his shadow for much of my growing up. Well, as much as there was in those 18 years. He taught me the value of a job well done. There’s no substitute for good tools, and the knowledge to use them. And when the necessary tools are nowhere to be found, the instinct and intellect to punt is just as good. Together we marveled at the splendor of the world around us, and learned to savor what nature had provided us. As well as it’s stewardship that was our duty. Pretty good lessons. But I sure would have enjoyed knowing him as an adult. There are so many questions I would have liked to ask.

As I look back on it now, I think the best lesson to be learned is that life is too short. If he would have made it just five more years, he would have met his grandchildren. Both of them. And the wonders of their growing up would have brought him so much joy. It causes me to reflect on my own life, with a grandson on the way. Not that I’m planning a hasty departure, but I am only four years away from his age when we lost him. It does make me stop and take note. And rightfully so, because I have fallen into the trap that is work. For what seemed to be a somewhat lucrative step up, I now realize the price I paid was my life as I knew it. If you’ve been checking in on me, I’m sure you have noticed that I’m not around much. That’s because there’s just not much left. At all. Although there’s no turning back, there must be a way to manage it so that it doesn’t consume what little joy there is left. There is more to life than what I am living right now and I’m too damn stubborn to throw in the towel.

So. You probably won’t be seeing much of me until I sort through this mess. It’s going to take some big cahoochies to shed myself of some of the baggage I’m carrying around. And if I still have a job when this is all done, well that will be a good thing. But if not, at least I know how to handle a hammer and nail. And then there’s always fishing.

Before I start, here is a picture for Songbird . . . our little Dogwood finally graced us with a few blooms this week. We’ve had her for quite a few years and these are her first. It was a small showing, but we are thrilled just the same. Especially considering the long cold winter.

Today I drove from the county considered a “Suburb of Chicago” deep into the “Rural White Counties” of Indiana. At least that’s the way they are summing up the Hoosier state on CNN right now. It was really a beautiful drive down to the location of my conference. Just South of Indy there were Redbuds and Dogwoods galore. In fact I’ve never seen so many in one place as there were in Paoli. I’m going to sneak out of this conference and try to get some pictures before I head home. This picture is somewhere between Bloomington and French Lick. I was taken by the deep gold color of the field, although this picture does not do it justice.

The polls closed in my end of the state an hour after they closed down here and within minutes they were spinning the numbers. I’m holed up in the hotel room watching the results of what has been a very exciting month in our state. Willi and I tried to beat the lines at the local church by voting early on Saturday, but as fate would have it, the electricity was out at the government center. Indiana moved to computerized voting machines last year, so no vote. We left an hour early this morning so that we could vote on the way to work. By 6:20 a.m. there were already two rows of chairs filled with voters waiting their turn. This probably sounds pretty hokey, but I get such a thrill out of voting. And pushing that button today seemed more important than it ever has for me.

I got kind of choked up (don’t laugh) as we walked to our cars. Willi asked if I was thinking of my mother. She used to work the polls. Because we live in the same precinct as I grew up, we have over the years seen some of my mother’s friends working the polls still. I can always tell if they knew my mother because they call me by my full name, as only people do who knew me as I was growing up. Actually I wasn’t thinking of my mom so much, but it was a chuckle to think that she probably wouldn’t be too happy with me, once again, as I picked up that little card with the “D” on it.

Doesn’t this hallway remind you of Jack Nicholson in “The Shining”? This whole place does. Glad it isn’t snowing here. Anyway, I’m listening to Senator Obama give his speech in North Carolina. He just congratulated Hillary Clinton on her win in Indiana. In the mean time, CNN says it’s too close to call, and her lead has just gotten a little smaller, now 4%. I wonder if he counted us out too soon, with only 76% of the vote counted. Our little county is still colored white on the big map in the newsroom. I wonder what the heck is going on there, that the votes still have not been counted. In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter how you spin the numbers. I think he will be our candidate. And as exciting as it has been to have a part in this decision, I’m glad it’s just about over.

So, tomorrow this Primary Election will be history and I will spend the day soaking up rules and numbers of the business I am trying to learn. And plan my escape out into the sunshine. Ah, there is a heaven…