Focus

It is another hot one today. The Columbus Dispatch is calling for it to be the "hottest day yet" of the summer. We are still relying on a judicious opening and shutting of windows and curtains as the sun moves over the house; I am trying not to use the air conditioning this summer at all.

It is already getting hot in this house and it is only 9:00 a.m.

Not that I am writing about the heat. I have about 20 minutes in which to start this post before walking to the courthouse for a mid-morning meeting. (The courthouse is wonderfully air-conditioned.) I don't want to rush my writing and the walk, no matter how hot it is, will maybe shake the loose thoughts tumbling about in my head.

Lately my mind has been on overload. My thoughts, when I have any, scatter across it like marbles dropped on a hardwood floor. I am trying to focus, trying to regain my focus.

Actually, I am wondering what my focus is. I have the upcoming trip (and the wedding!) on my mind, I have the preparations for the upcoming trip (and the wedding!) on my mind. I have little inconsequential things on my mind, like laundry, and bigger, more nagging things, like work and bills. I have Ben and Sam on my mind (Ben wants me to bring some of his books, Sam needs to go get some slacks and a shirt for Ben's wedding), as well as my almost daughter-in-law Alise (I miss her as much as I miss Ben). The Symphony is preparing to move into new offices (a Big Deal) and Warren is wrapping up Season 31 while launching Season 32.

Maybe that's why my thoughts go rolling across my mind like a dropped bag of cat eyes every time I turn around.

Just down the street, there are two hula hoops looped over the picket fence. I noticed them yesterday when I walked over to my friend's house to go walking. I had just read Deidra over at Jumping Tandem on rushing through a bike ride meant to connect her mind and body to her writing. Instead, it turned into an exercise on missing out on the journey because she was too focused on the mission.

Maybe seeing those hula hoops were the whole point of my walk. They reminded me of summer and children playing right up to the last "it's time to come in now!"

It is afternoon as I finish this post. I did not have to walk back home, as Warren, a colleague, and I went to lunch and my colleague dropped me off afterwards. I did turn on the air conditioning when I entered the house. Although it was my goal to go this summer without it, like we did last year, today is simply too hot and my tolerance for heat is too thin. Frugality is wonderful, but running the air (set at 81°) for a day or two beats a trip to the ER.

As I write my way through this post, it occurs to me that maybe it's okay - given everything going on this summer - for my thoughts to go bounding across the floor and skitter under the desk just out of reach. Maybe instead of chasing after them, I need to wait for them to stop scattering and see how many roll back my way.

Probably a lot more than I am giving myself credit for.

And maybe my focus is okay too. Yesterday was a special day for Warren and me (we have several milestones we celebrate) and he surprised me by going out for hot fudge sundaes before he went to an evening Symphony meeting. We went to a little place about 25 miles from here - the same place we used to go to 38 years ago the one summer we dated. From the ice cream stand, it is a short walk to the church down the street, with broad cement steps on which to sit and talk and eat your ice cream. (We did that 38 years ago too.) The hot fudge melted the ice cream a little and I lightly swirled the two with my spoon. We didn't have all the time in the world because of the meeting, but we had enough time to make the most of the moment.

Hula hoops on the fence. Montana in the wings. Hot fudge sundaes on the steps with Warren.

I'd say my focus is just fine.