I can’t believe it’s April. I’ve lost all sense of time – and for someone who works with constant deadlines that’s not good.
Mick Jagger crooned how time was on his side. I’m just not feeling it.
Unlike Rachel Ray, I can’t whip up a 30-minute meal, even in a microwave.
I struggle to squeeze a 20-minute brisk walk into my day when all I want is a 10-minute cat nap.
Even my 5-minute commute from downtown Enumclaw to downtown Enumclaw seems to take forever.
Yet, a minute of twisting and stretching at yoga or waiting for conditioner to make my hair silky smooth can seem like an eternity.
I tap my toe and drum my fingertips waiting for the traffic light at Warner and 410, or lights in Bonney Lake, to turn green, or the coffee maker to let loose its last drip of the crude that fuels my morning.
Even the news show 60 Minutes isn’t an hour with all the squeezed in commercials.
Jim Croce wanted to put time in a bottle. They’ve done that, it’s called an egg timer, and when the sand runs out I’ve brushed my teeth long enough.
He also noted there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them.
Those minutes are dragging into days, weeks and months.
I swear we just turned our clocks back and now we’re springing forward.
The garlic, shallots and hyacinth bulbs I dutifully planted in autumn are sprouting like the rumors of Costco coming to Bonney Lake.
Those semi-annual bills have arrived for insurance and property tax. It’s time for my yearly physical and eye check up. The deadline for filing income tax is fast approaching.
My friends and I got an early start in November for this year’s Sacred Hearth Church auction, but as the day approaches in May I realize those months flew and now, SHAMELESS PLUG HERE, if you are interested in tickets, donating items or being a sponsor feel free to contact me.
And all those months melt into years.
Those babies I use to drag to the office with me, that some of you in the community are so kind to ask about, are soon to both be in high school.
I’m very proud of them, but it is a bit twisted that my Saturdays are spent sitting for hours waiting for them to race a 27-second, 50-yard freestyle or spend six minutes, or less, on the wrestling mat.
They think I’m perpetually stuck in the late ‘70s and ‘80s. What can I say, time moved slower then. I keep explaining to them it wasn’t THAT long ago, when in fact, shudder to think, it’s at least 30 years ago.
Which brings up my birthday, which is right around the corner. Can you believe someone asked how old I was the other day, and I told them the wrong age? My YOUNGER sister was quick to point out the correct number, but I literally had forgotten how old I am. Is that bad?
Honestly, this whole rambling started with the radio. I was rushing through life the other day, when Kenny Chesney came across the speakers of the car. I often believe Kenny is singing directly to me. Usually he’s taking me away to Mexico or enjoying the summertime, but this time he lulled me in with his message about the here-today, gone-tomorrow world we’re living. I heard it loud and clear.
“Don’t blink. Life Goes Faster Than You Think.”