Respite

I like taking the weekend off whenever I can.  It's not always possible at my busiest times.  But the weekend is an essential period of recharging, resting, and recreating for me.  Whenever I can successfully compartmentalize home life from work life, I do it.  I find it makes me appreciate both spheres of activity more fully.

Intersessions pose a challenge to that philosophy.  We're quickly approaching winter break, and this year because of a late start to the semester, the last day we full-year employees are supposed to be at work is the day after grades are turned in.  Usually there are two or three days after that day -- which is a very busy one, considering grades must be reviewed, grants awarded, and scholarships renewed based on that data -- to wind the semester down and do some prep for the next one.

Much of the winding down comes with an inflexible deadline.  Everything has to be graded in time for the grading deadline; that's the biggest one for faculty.  Any communications with students prompted by their performance has to be done before the university shutters, whenever that is.  But the preparation for next year is naggingly unconfined to working hours.  Course construction of all kinds might be done by the ultra-efficient before leaving for break, but most of us are probably still assembling syllabi and schedules in early January.  Some projects span semesters, like student theses or research endeavors.  And of course there's work that is not course related -- publications, scholarship, editing, writing.  Breaks are often times when we turn to that kind of work, trying at the very least to leave teaching behind when office hours cease.

Where does that leave my carefully hoarded off hours?  The time I want to devote to my avocations, my family, my church, my health, my soul -- all without the feeling that I should be working, that feeling that saps the joy and presence from that time and replaces it with guilt or anxiety?  I've written before that I am most blissful when those hours are not stolen here and there from my schedule, but instead pile up in wanton excess -- uninterrupted days devoted to my free choice of projects.  But I understand better and better than, as much as I love and crave those times, they are rare and cannot be expected as my due.  Most people have busy lives and full calendars; their hobbies and passions, the ones that don't count as work, have to be undertaken in between everything else that demands their attention on other people's timetables.

All that is to say that this weekend, while Noel was in Chicago and I was taking care of the kids on my own, contained more than my fair share of restfulness.  I gave myself the weekend off after an extremely high-pressure week executing the Craftin' for CASA sale, even though I'm predictably behind on the grading that has to be done quickly as the semester rushes to its close, even though complex initiatives in the areas of curriculum and hiring and planning are clamoring for attention before everyone scatters, even though a colleague and I are creating a new course to debut in 45 days for which all the structure that currently exists is a list of required textbooks.  A rainy Sunday led to an afternoon where Archer played Wii, Cady Gray worked on a craft kit, and I happily cut fabrics for a sewing project. Only when I looked up from my intense concentration on accurate measuring and cutting and realized that I hadn't been interrupted by a child in an hour.

That's all I can ask on a day when I'm solely responsible for them.  And combined with my determination not to let academic work intrude on my mental life for sixty hours or so, it's profoundly rejuvenating.

Sea dreams

We're staying with Noel's folks tonight before heading on to our vacation destination tomorrow. They are big cruisers -- a lifestyle I desperately want to adopt one of these days. Our only cruise experience (with Disney several years ago) was magnificent, and I'd love to make that kind of experience a regular part of my leisure time.

I know it's a terrible practice that doesn't deserve the name "travel," but I love having everything provided for me, with no bigger decision to be made than when to eat and which pool to sunbathe beside and when to nap. Travel is one thing -- I enjoy going new places and having new experiences -- but vacation for me means relaxation. And nothing is more relaxing for me than no schedule, nowhere to be, and no one to answer to.

I owe Noel a trip for his 40th birthday, and while we want to go to New York one of these days and see some shows, I feel pretty certain I could talk him into a cruise ... or a series of cruises. Maybe that's something we can work toward next year. My older brother is heading toward an empty nest -- he'd be thrilled to host our kids for a week, surely. Or so I imagine in my cruise-starved craze.

Hammock time

Coming off of a frenzied academic year, my idea of leisure is usually not to do anything at all.  To vegetate in front of the TV, sleep late, and have my food brought to me on convenient trays.  It's then that I dream about hammocks and Adirondack chairs and beverages served with little umbrellas and just ... existing.

But faced with the actual practice of such leisure, I am usually a failure.  Dating back to my teenagerhood, I've never understood how people actually manage to do nothing.  I mean really nothing -- like "laying out" on the beach, as we used to call it.  Hours spent just laying there in the sun, not sleeping, not reading, not ... doing anything?  I tried sometimes, but I always found myself trying to sneak a book in there.  Even listening to music wasn't enough for me to feel like the leisure was at a satisfying level of minimal activity.

So it's not surprising that I've taken up knitting, since it's the perfect compromise between doing something and doing nothing.  Now my relaxing no-goal days have at least that much accomplishment.  I often find myself at my most rejuvenated when I've done more -- organized something, cleaned something out, built something, crossed something off my to-do list.  The transition between leisure and work is made much easier when you get a little of the preparatory material for work out of the way during your supposed downtime, like watching a piece of media you have to write about, or coming up with a framework for something you have to produce, or even just dividing your work time into segments so the decision about what to work on when is already made before you start.

Tomorrow morning we're getting a delivery of IKEA furniture to form the basis of my new crafting space.  I highly doubt I'll get any of it assembled before next weekend, given the relatively tight evening TV and writing schedule we keep combined with the kids' summer camp commutes making for a later start than we're used to.  Part of me resents having to devote half a day of my unstructured leisure to assembly; but part of me relishes spending concentrated, extended time on something I'm so looking forward to.  If it works out, I imagine I could end the weekend far more satisfied with myself and the way I whiled away my time than usual.

It begins

I have really looked forward to the beginning of spring break.  For me it means that my to-do list changes over from the things I have to do to the things I want to do.

So it was a thrill when Cady Gray piped up from the back seat during our drive back from lunch: "Mom, when can we go on our next knitters' retreat?"  Why, today, honey.  Is today okay with you?

Going to Starbucks to knit and crochet with my daughter.  Putting together a blanket for a baby that's on the way.  Getting back to my research.  Breaking out the sewing machine for another project -- building my skills for some of the other tings I'd like to make.   Those are the top items on my to-do list for spring break.

There are regular items on there, too.  I need to catch up on the student work I missed while I was jetting here and there in the last three weeks.  A week from today I'm leading a session at a conference on social networking; I need to firm up my notes and build a presentation to go with it.  A new staff member in the office needs to be set up on the office's Google calendar, which I administrate.  Nothing huge -- a morning's work here, half an afternoon's work there.  Add in time I'll spend supervising the kids out of the house so Noel can get his work done, and I'm sure the week will go by quickly enough.

Not so quickly, though, that I can't check off some things from my wish list as well as my want list.  It's what I've been anticipating throughout one of the most intense few weeks of my year, and I'm going to enjoy every second of it.

Nearly perfect

Yesterday snow and ice fell during the day, preventing us from going out for our usual Friday evening Mexican meal and weekend kickoff.  But today more than made up for any disappointment.  Consider:

• I slept in an extra ninety minutes.  Ahhhhhh.
• Cady Gray played in the snow, then drank the hot chocolate that I made for her with many expressions of happiness.
• I didn't even put on shoes until about 2:30 in the afternoon.
• While sitting in the front room this morning, I opened an email with a link to a little amigurumi lovebirds pattern.  On the spur of the moment, I decided to make it.  A few hours later, as the kids emerged from their rooms after rest time, the lovebirds were complete.  Noel dubbed them Val and Tine.  (Pictures tomorrow; my photo session this afternoon -- the reason I put on my shoes -- was sabotaged by a memory card error.)
• Noel reconnoitered the still-slushy streets by going out to get us sandwiches and cookies for lunch.
• Noel took the kids to Playworld this afternoon for almost two hours, during which time I put the finishing touches on the lovebirds, did my Ravelry welcomes, and watched basketball.
• I still got to go to La Huerta this evening, once the temperature rose and the streets melted.

Pretty much a perfect Saturday, mostly thanks to my generous husband.  Hope yours was just as relaxing!

A real weekend

For the last twenty days or so, my weeks and weekends have blurred due to two extended conferences.  That's all well and good when the weekend is bleeding over into the week -- like when you get an extra hour of sleep on a weekday, or have a couple of hours free for leisure -- but you pay the cost of having the work week bleed into the weekend as well.  Weekend days at these conferences tend to be a whirlwind of scheduled activities and getting up far too early.  At my last conference, I had 7:30 am meetings on both Saturday and Sunday.

So it's a relief to get back to my routine, where weekdays are for work and weekends are for play.  The little indulgences I save for the weekends now are part of a pattern of enjoyment, not stolen moments consoling me during a packed schedule.  

I get to knit with my daughter, play Wii with my son, and take some time for myself.  There will be sports on the television, Arbor Day celebrations in the park, chat with Ravelry buddies, Sunday school, soda, chocolate, spending time with my husband, and sleeping in.  That's the way weekends ought to be.

Productive laziness

I was hoping for a lazy weekend. And today was as lazy as I could wish. I slept until after 9 am, then got up and crossed off the first item on Cady Gray's "crafts to do" list (knitting). After a little Wii Play, we went to a model train show in town where Archer and Cady Gray both got to drive Thomas trains around tracks to their hearts' content. Pizza lunch was followed by basketball, more knitting, and conversation. When the kids emerged from their rest periods, Cady Gray and I went on to item 2 on the crafts list (beading), Noel got started on the all-locally-grown dinner, and I read. Now the kids are in pajamas and I'm looking forward to another evening of basketball and knitting.

But for a day of doing nothing, I sure feel like I got a lot done. Last night I bound off and wove in ends on my Totally Autumn blanket ... almost 35,000 stitches of coziness. Today I indulged in scarf knitting with my Signature needles -- the project I pick up when I want to treat myself -- and after one more lace repeat, I'll be binding that off. I got within striking distance of the end of this month's Wrapped Up In Books selection, ready to participate in the discussion about it starting on Monday. About the only task of the weekend I haven't started on is writing a review of Breaking Bad's Sunday season 3 premiere, and I'm confident that tomorrow morning before Noel and Scott get up will be plenty of time to rough out a draft.

I enjoy getting stuff done when I'm not under pressure. There's a particular satisfaction in completing long, complicated, or copious tasks when deadlines loom or time is short. I'm happy to be experiencing the other side of accomplishment, though -- the kind that is pure lagniappe. It's about time.

Hard at workst

I guard my leisure time jealously. Evenings and weekends, ideally, are for knitting, reading, and catching up on TV and movies. Work often intrudes, of course; I write about TV a couple of times a week, and frequently student work has to be graded. But I don't regard those occasions as business as usual. I resent them, and breathe a sigh of relief when I can contemplate a couple of hours with nothing obligatory on the schedule.

But I also work hard to make sure those couple of hours don't get eaten away bit by bit. Sure, I could still get in some stitching if I were also taking care of other minor chores. But I want the whole enchilada, not just twenty stolen minutes.

So even though I could get our tax records ready for the preparer in a few half-hour chunks spread out over several days, I took a different tack. The two hours this afternoon during the kids' quiet time that I would normally spend on knitting and internet while clearing a couple of items off the TiVo, I instead spent organizing the 1099's and separating 2010 receipts from 2009 stuff. By the time Archer came out to fire up the Wii for his afternoon playtime, I was halfway done with the job. Sometime before the end of the month I'll need to add up all the deductions and job-related expenses, but the hardest work of gathering all the material and entering the big numbers is over.

This may be the earliest I've ever tackled the taxes. And it's all thanks to the Winter Olympics, starting next Friday, and my aversion to sharing my weekend time with work. I know I'm not going to want to buckle down and start the massive job of tax prep when I want to be gorging on curling and starting the last pattern repeat of my Totally Autumn throw. Only a desire for total purity in my off-the-clock activities could lead me to devote much of a Sunday to non-deadline-related work. Now I can settle in for next Friday's opening ceremonies with a clear conscience. If only I didn't have to spend Saturday morning on campus for a half-day event -- or if only I could go ahead and get it out of the way on my own time.

Breathe in

It's time for another week to start, the first "normal" one in a while. Everybody's home, school is in session, work proceeds apace. Yet once again I feel cheated out of my full weekend's due of leisure; I fussed over my lecture today, created a powerpoint, wrote a post for this week's Wrapped Up In Books discussion, and tonight I'll be participating in the Emmy liveblog with other A.V. Club staffers. Sunday didn't hold a candle to Saturday, relaxation-wise.

And it's shaping up to be a busy week. In addition to the lecture and attendant stress, I'll be a guest in a class at the college across the railroad tracks on Tuesday, and I'll chair a tenure committee meeting on Wednesday. The TV premieres are beginning to come thick and fast, so more evenings than normal will involve an hour or two of writing. On Friday, freshman papers will be turned in, and although I've arranged with my teaching assistant to take one day off from grading next weekend, one day will still be on.

I've got no basis for complaint. Some people in this house work practically every second they're awake, and I've had a long summer where pretty much every evening and weekend was my own to command. But I'm terribly jealous of my leisure time. The one thing that didn't happen this weekend that I might have hoped for was an extended time alone in the house to play with yarn. Because of the rainy, humid outdoors, and because of a daddy-daughter date this afternoon, there just wasn't a chance to shoo the three of them out and enjoy some productivity on my own terms. Ah well -- there's always next weekend. I'm already looking forward to it.

Everything's coming up Millhouse

I joked to Noel tonight that I was in the midst of the Two Days of Donna. Today I acquired a new wall in my office ... just a few inches from an existing wall, but insulated and blocking a door that had let through a lot of sound from the adjoining room. It's going to be painted a deep shade of red -- an accent wall in my battleship-gray room, just like on the HGTV design shows!

And after a three month wait and lots of shipping back and forth to the Lenovo factories deep in Red China, I have a brand new tablet to replace my beloved (but four-year-old) X60. There's nothing I like better than setting up a new piece of equipment; I can spend hour upon hour tweaking the parameters, customizing the colors and menus, researching extensions and accessories. I lost myself in that process for the whole afternoon.

And if that weren't enough, Noel has a crazy plan to take the kids to Little Rock tomorrow, let them run wild through a toy store, stuff them full of pizza and bombard their senses with video games. That means I get to stay home and do whatever I want. Maybe for two, three hours! Then later that evening, Noel and I are going out to dinner and a movie. I really don't know what I've done to deserve such largesse.

Next week, the deluge: I'll help move freshmen into the dorms on Sunday, attend three meetings (one in full academic regalia) on Monday, and then it's just more meetings and frantic preparation before classes begin on Thursday. It's the perfect time for knitting, reading, thinking, and drawing a deep, contemplative breath. I plan to do them all tomorrow.