The Fine Art of Procrastination

I like to believe that I finish everything I start, and having a strong work ethic, I turn in the best work. In other words, I don't do anything half-done, or half-assed.

So imagine my dilemma as I sit here, taking another detour away from completing an important project.

The report was initially done 1/11 but my boss (thanks to Divine Intervention) changed the due date to 1/22. Any normal, perfectionist as I would rejoice and improve on the work already done right? Right. What I didn't figure in was the death of Uncle Tony and the subsequent time consuming activities.

Last Friday I packed up some documents and my work laptop and headed home, determined to complete the report in one day. What I didn't figure in this time was having no desire at all to power up the laptop except to play newly discovered Spider Solitaire.

This morning I woke up prepared to focus on this project while everyone is asleep and the house is quiet. What I didn't figure in this morning was acknowledging that I just don't want to work on this project, or any project for that matter.

So now here I sit. The Colts are playing the Jets, the kids are running around screaming and getting in to things, and I'm hungry. And I've just discovered the document with crucial important reporting information is at work. Now I'll have to either go in to work or wait 'til tomorrow and turn the report in even later. All because of procrastination. A concept previously foreign to me and now I'm suffering for it.

Here are pictures from last week's family gathering:

In Remembrance

"Discrimination is a hellhound that gnaws at Negroes in every waking moment of their lives to remind them that the lie of their inferiority is accepted as truth in the society dominating them."

Martin Luther King, Jr.

This Morning

This morning I cooked breakfast for the growing number of family members arriving to the house who hadn't time to eat. Unfortunately, although I love and crave all things dedicated to the culinary arts, I'm the absolute worst cook in the house but there was too much to be done for the more able to cook.

Pictures were taken, fond remembrances of loved ones who have already passed through were shared and jokes about those who remain were passed around too.

Reverence, thanks and praise was given to God for the food and the hands that laboured for it and the hands that prepared it, and the unlucky ones had to eat my cooking.

There is no greater joy than the joy of seeing loved ones after years of only verbal and electronic communications. And if you are related, you can see similarities with others, and wryly compare your signs of aging against theirs, and worry that some signs of aging and or illness have erased vitality and youthful exuberance. But sitting there in the kitchen this morning and laughing with my family about memories and current economic woes (the majority of us are unemployed), and rolling my eyes when it's my turn to be teased and lovingly ridiculed erased all that.

This morning some of my family got up and begin dressing for the special church service. White shirts were ironed, black suits were ironed or touched up, shoes were polished or wiped. White handkerchiefs for the men were located and placed in suit pockets; grand, big black hats were found for the women as well as their black handkerchiefs. Cuff links snapped to, gold crosses on the pastors were draped into the left front shirt pockets and wool hats lint brushed.

All too soon the call for the procession began, more pictures being taken as everyone began to form the family procession that would lead to the church.

There are too many who are not here to name, but this morning we that are here have gathered to attend the funeral of my Uncle Anthony, 54 who died a week after doctors discovered lymphoma in his brain. Before this diagnosis, Tony was doing what he always did: running around here and there, helping everyone, being an asset to everyone who knew him, and just being one of the greatest men in this entire world. So, from Idaho, Texas, California, and Georgia we have come to celebrate the life of one who was so awesome and will be certainly and sorrowfully missed.

As my family walked down to the church I took pictures then gave the camera to my little brother to record what I will miss. This morning while everyone's at the funeral I will clean the kitchen and find something to do while I await their return and the jokes about my cooking that are coming.

It does no good wondering why death comes to some so early. And I've discovered it's no good holding your breath wondering which of us will be the next to go. You just have to thank God for allowing you to be born into the best family in the world (I'm biased), for knowing some of the sweetest, lovingest (I think I made that word up) folks, and try harder to visit family while we're on this side.

"Will the (family) circle be unbroken by and by?

There's a better home awaiting in the sky"