Blueprint Phase 1, Step 2

cpb-plan

On Tuesday night, I brought 3 days and 10 pages of notes to heel in this whacked out mind  map.  Even with my scattered brain forever chasing down The Meaning Of It All, I was able to rip the material and pin details to their categories.  One night later, I had expanded this into a clean, 3-page document charting each week-long task between now and May 1, 2017.  It’s typed.  With headings.  That makes it real, right?

Funny thing here that will surprise no one:  As taxing as this is, my professional work has been hopping along with more efficiency than ever.  The cross-pollination couldn’t be clearer.  Organizing a writing project has fueled me to tackle those eat-that-frog tasks at work that I usually avoid until the last possible moment.  Today, I made the penultimate round of revisions on a work assignment that isn’t due until mid-October, and it’s one I despise.

Inshallah, the momentum sustains.  When it comes to providence, I’m starting to see that with each half step I take, it takes two towards me.


 

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1 thought on “Blueprint Phase 1, Step 2”

  1. I keep telling you, I’m not a feminist.
    I grew up an only child on a ranch,
    so I drove tractors, learned to ride.
    When the truck wouldn’t start, I went to town
    for parts. The man behind the counter
    told me I couldn’t rebuild a carburetor.
    I could: every carburetor on the place. That’s
    necessity, not feminism.
    I learned to do the books
    after my husband left me and the debts
    and the children. I shoveled snow and pitched hay
    when the hired man didn’t come to work.
    I learned how to pull a calf
    when the vet was too busy. As I thought,
    the cow did most of it herself; they’ve been
    birthing alone for ten thousand years. Does
    that make them feminists?
    It’s not
    that I don’t like men; I love them—when I can.
    But I’ve stopped counting on them
    to change my flats or open my doors.
    That’s not feminism; that’s just good sense.

    “Clara: In the Post Office” by Linda Hasselstrom

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