Interlude

Wake up.
Down a java or two.
Shower, dress, a spritz of cologne.
Drive, drive, drive. Work, work, drive drive.
Oops! Need to buy bread.
Home, cook, laundry, paperwork, pack lunches. Sleep.
Wake up, down some coffee. . . .

Wait a minute.  Something is wrong here.  Yes, I find time to walk or the Y.  Yes, I take some time to play games.  Yes, I find moments to share with those I love.

Some days it isn't enough, those few moments.  I need an interlude, a time when I don't have to be at work or at a meeting or at the grocery store.  I need time to be mesmerized by adult conversation instead of the spinning wheels of video slots or the click-clack of the Scrabble board.  I don't want to be interrupted by the squawk of the TV or the neighbor's weed whacker.  The endless clatter of shopping carts grates on my nerves.  I've had enough of the daily rat race.

I want an intermission of sorts, like my days with the grapes, when I can shut off the phone.  The time might be better spent in minutes of prayer or meditation, or of conversation and contemplation.

I want to scream in frustration.  Time goes so fast! I'm impatient.  I want it all to drop in my lap; I am tired of having to work for what I want.  I want the job, but not the work ; I want the invitations to come but not the inconvenience.  I want ice cream without the guilt of too many calories.  Left to myself, I am too lazy to be lazy!

I need that interlude, or the intermission, if you will.  Meditating on the important, dreaming about the frivolous, thinking about the possibilities.  Ground me, please, or help me to fly.

If you've been reading regularly, you can tell I am starting another growth spurt, or maybe a leap of faith.

Oh, my!  What have I gotten myself into this time?