house hunting...

we have been looking for a house since may.  we probably started talking about it in march, but our lender approved us for funding, etc., in may and the house hunt began in earnest.  i should say, "my obsessive, incessant observation of listingbook.com began in earnest," because i hunt for houses online far more than we do in person.  we've been to see lots of houses, made four offers, backed away from one and been disappointed by one house that really stole our heart.  in hindsight, it was for the best, but my heart still constricts when I think about that house. 

 the thief in all of her glory

now, we're in a multiple-offer situation on a house that may or may not be "the one."  thinking of the necessary funding, etc., is scary - but throwing money at an apartment that will never belong to us is equally scary.  nevertheless, it'll work out - even if our house hunt goes on the back burner until some little beauty meets our extremely specific criteria, which is mostly dictated by price and school.  sure, it will be nice when mcclain has his own room (and we have ours!), and when zach has somewhere other than the kitchen table on which to spread his school paraphernalia (and i have somewhere other than the floor), but in the meantime, our loft is home sweet (small) home, and we are loving having our little boy here in this space!

visual priority list

dis·or·gan·ized/disˈôrgəˌnīzd/

adjective:

not properly planned and controlled. (of a person) unable to plan one's activities efficiently.

zach says that i have a visual priority list, by which he means that i have little or no ability to prioritize tasks.  instead, i do things as i see them, and the order in which my eyes encounter them generally dictates the order in which i attend to them.  i might be deeply engrossed in one activity and then another will catch my eye.  when this happens, i'm prone to disengage from my initial task and take on the one I've only just realized is infinitely more important and, even more worrisome, incredibly time-sensitive.  generally, attempts to get out the door look something like this:

zach: "sells, let's go."

[i look up, notice that the catchall by the door, which is only intended for keys, phones and sunglasses, is overflowing with scraps of paper from my dear husband's pockets, and finish the dish I'm currently scrubbing before abandoning any other dishes to the depths of the sink and hurrying over to "clean out the catchall really quickly - no, seriously, really quickly" before leaving the loft.]

the state of affairs when i elected to organize the loft pre-baby

i might run into four "pressing" tasks while completing an initial task - and not take the dog outside until all five are finished.  macy's ears don't perk up when I say "walk" because she knows the gratification will be delayed; when the word slips out of zach's lips, her tail is wagging and she's ready to go! 

i should add that this isn't merely a home-based dilemma; i struggle mightily in my classroom, too.  i'm currently trying to create a schedule by which to accomplish essential weekly tasks so i don't stay at school until 6 pm in a frenzied state of trying to grade papers, make copies, wipe down tables and corral books into their correct bins.  one main task per day is my goal; i've heard from organized teacher-friends that they have one main task per afternoon and complete any small tasks after finishing their daily goal. i do not, however, return to school for about seven weeks - who wants to put money on this "to do" going to the bottom of my list until ooooo, six weeks from now?

obviously, my little habit [read: constant state of disorganization] is counterproductive.  i am trying - desperately, desperately trying! - to force myself to prioritize tasks and activities and deviate from my list only in the face of an absolutely necessary task.  to this end, i'm using the heck out of the alarm and calendar apps on my iPhone.  while these apps keep me on task, i'm still a fan of the handwritten list, on which you can cross out activities as you finish them.  a friend once told me that more optimistic people check off items on their to-do lists, rather than strike through them, but i find it infinitely more satisfying to draw a line through a task i've completed. disclosure: sometimes, i do something and then write it on the list and cross it out (cheater!).  another consequence of a visual priority list, and a personally-justified deviation from that list...

right now, to-do lists are working pretty well for me, although they haven't necessarily helped me to prioritize my days' activities.  rather, I scramble to finish everything, heedless of the efficiency of the order in which i complete things. i kind of love this to-do pad, although i'm sure it seems excessive for the non-organizationally challenged. also, an index card will get you just as far... what helps you stay on-task?  are you generally regimented?  teach me your organized ways!

peach city, peach state

allow me to preface this post by saying the following story is entirely true.

when zach is at work or class and i take mcclain and macy on a walk by myself, i usually tuck clain into his baby bjorn and leash macy, rather than attempting the herculean task of walking four miles with dog and stroller.  having mcclain in the bjorn means i don't necessarily have to walk on the sidewalk and that i am free to take routes involving stairs.

recently, i was cutting across the side lawn of our loft - because no stroller means i can do that! - with clain in the bjorn and macy trotting alongside us.  all of a sudden, someone says, "well hello there!"

there was no one in sight.  i stopped for a moment but assumed i was overhearing a conversation through an open window.

"i said 'hello there'!"

there was still no one in sight. i dropped Macy's leash and wrapped my arms around mcclain. 

"i didn't mean to scare you."


still no one in sight.

and then some strange instinct drew my eyes up and there, at 7:15 am, in the crotch of a tree, was a man wearing chaco sandals and entirely black clothing.   

he proceeded to ask me if there was anyone beneath the tree (this struck me, somehow, as odd: i don't feel that "beneath" is often used conversationally) and whether or not it was safe to climb down.  i told him to climb on (on belay?  belay on.  climbing? climb on.) we made small talk for a few minutes as he climbed down and then parted, my trio headed one way and he headed another. 

the next morning, as i was pulling out of the bass parking lot on my way to the pediatrician, I noticed my chaco-wearing friend below the variety playhouse marquee: he was stuffing a bedroll into his backpack. he looked up, saw me and waved.

atlanta is no new york city, but it is a place to which people from other, smaller cities and towns journey.  atlanta is a cosmopolitan city in its own right, and there are so many people venturing here to "live the dream"!  i hope, for my friend in the tree, with his bedroll and his determination, that he finds what he's looking for here in this peach of a city!