For some people, dinner is always at six.
Around here, dinner may be as early as 4:00
or as late as 9:30 (as it was for me this past week).
The alarm clock is NOT respected.
Respect is earned, after all.
TV shows are taped and watched whenever.
We can get through three days of American Idol
in under thirty minutes, fast forwarding through fluff.
Bedtimes exist, but aren't always followed.
Ice cream appears for breakfast periodically.
A routine is there, though,
a kind of daily sequence of events, a framework,
but it's loose, it's flexible, it's negotiable.
I didn't grow up this way.
Nope, I grew up with schedules,
with predictability, with certainty,
and with irritability, should the routine shift unexpectedly.
I learned that under the most rigid of routines
exist fault lines.
These days, I'm somewhere between
"do it if it must be done" and "go with the flow,"
and while I don't exactly crave routines,
when life gets stressful,
sometimes I wish I could just surrender to the certainty of
this-happens-now and then-this-occurs.
Everything in its place AND time.
When I'm not stressed though, the idea
of that kind of structure stifles me.
I like knowing and not knowing,
starting a day with only a hunch about where it will take me,
ending a day with a single truth:
tomorrow doesn't have to be the same.
We begin again,
but "again" doesn't have to mean we have to do everything the same way.
Within some routines,
there's still room to grow, to change, to renew oneself.
With the idea of fighting the good fight in mind,
and beginning again (and again),
I created this layout for Lily Bee:
If you haven't stopped by the Lily Bee blog recently,
you really should check it out.
It's all about new beginnings this month:
a new design team,
a new Facebook page,
and, of course, the arrival of the new Lily Bee lines.
Time for dinner now -- 7:08 p.m.
Just as I didn't expect.