Almost February, Already!!!

When I procrastinate I am usually imagining an alternate life that I could have been living if I had made better choices.  Which is why I always think about having a "do-over" life.

Would I actually do better the second time around or would I make the same choices, again?

I do think we procrastinate over things we just didn't want to to at all.  I don't like doing the taxes, but when they are completed, I feel rather proud of myself.  Why, then, do I put off doing them to the last possible moments?????  Each year I say I will do them earlier.  Right here on this blog.  And in my daily journal.  Do I?  No.  Will this year be different?  One can dream.

Right now I am procrastinating about going out to look at bathroom vanities.  I should be thrilled.  But I am feeling more dread and pressure.  Yes.  That's the feeling I get when there is a deadline.
The "why do I have to do this" feeling even when it's something I actually do want to do.

The carpenter is pulling into the driveway.  He has my tile samples.  For the bathrooms.  That need vanities.  Riley and G have gone out to greet him.  And after a longer than it should have been chat--we are on the same page for the vanities and I like the slate floor tiles.  Monday the plumber is coming to check under the house for pipes etc. for his estimate.

I did manage to hem the pants.  Now, I am assembling a basket of tools so I can mend two pair of pajamas that have holes in them.  I am always catching the sides of the pants on something.  Like the brown cords I tore at work on a nail.  Ripped from pocket to knee.  That repair has opened up a new rip from pocket to waistband.  I think the cord fabric in these Bean pants is just way too thin and cheap these days. No wonder a customer returned them.

I have a chicken cacciatore to make for dinner today.  One pot wonder.  It reminds me of the chicken paprika my mother made when I was a child.  I remember it being rather stewy with tomatoes and onions.  Lots of onions.  The leftover chicken was always in my lunch sandwich the next day.  There were a few things my mother got right.  That chicken dish was one of them and I loved, loved, loved those chicken sandwiches the next day.

Riley is pacing and wanting his walk.  The paths are rutted with footprints that we made through the snow crust into the wet slush a few days ago.  Now frozen.  Long gone are the smooth paths made by the cross country skiers.  Now it's an ankle twisting mess out there.

When I get back from the walk and the chicken is slow cooking in the oven, I am going to try making a mono print with some paint and a plastic bag right on a page in my journal (like Deborah).  And when it's dry I will embellish it with my new Christmas Sharpies.  I will also link to a new blog I found with journal cues to help me do some art work each day.  Tomorrow.