The Endless List

I am a list maker.

I blame it on my dad.  He was a list maker too.  I can only guess that he came from a line of list makers. 

He used to keep folded yellow sheet instructions in his pants and shirt pockets.  At the end of the day, he would leave his cryptic notes, along with an assortment of change, mints, chapstick and his wallet on the table located next to his recliner.  Once in a while, I would open the notes and imagine that the words within held some kind of magic mystery.

'3/4", gutter, Larry, John R.'

Even though I would eventually grow to realize that the 'magic mystery' was simply his ability to keep several construction projects moving forward, I still found his handwriting and those little notes to be enchanting. 

While my father is no longer with us, I did inherit his list making ability.

I keep scraps of paper with little scrolls that read things like 'eggs, bread, milk, bottled water'.

Or once in a while, my brain throws out some creativity and my list might read, "Paint Color = Water's Edge, egg shell rug, yellow throw pillows, glass lamp'.

When I feel overwhelmed, having a list to attack and then later, vehemently cross off each completed task, feels very cathartic.  Like I am making progress on life.

Nothing will be overlooked with my handy-dandy list.



'Orthodontist, scripts, post office, milk'

'download bgs, review scripts, fill forms, endo appt.'

'Floor hockey, ballet, crockpot, early bed'

'Wake-up 79, Snack 230, Lunch 67, Snack 54, Dinner 320'



And about that last list, that is a very real list from a few weeks ago when the time change seemed to arrive with a vengeance. 

But without that list making skill, I might not have known how up and down our blood sugars were.  At least not until the next pump download.

So while the lists that I write are not the most exciting, they certainly are the most important.

Thanks, Dad.