How I See It, Volume1 number 11, November 1999 How I See It Now that winter is definitely here and planning to stay for the next four months, it seems that this is the time I should do all the things I never have time to do in the summer, like take stock of my life, figure out how to become more efficient, expand my horizons. But when I scan all this hype to be Wonder Woman, push my talents, take super whiz supplements, run ten miles a day, look glamorous, do my job and volunteer work, and be sure to have lots of quality time with my family, l am overwhelmed before I start, and know that I’m not going to make that grade, and I don’t even want to be in the running. Somehow I’m not there. Not that I can’t use some self-improvement, and haven’t been captivated by the hype and succumbed in some areas. Cookbooks bought with the admonishment “thou shalt learn to cook” add color to my kitchen, but stay unopened. Housekeeping hints and promises that with ten minutes a day my house will never recognize itself, don’t even get off the store bookshelf. My dust bunnies have long become mature rabbits with multiple offspring that are comfortably settled and would resent disturbance. Actually, it’s my mental housekeeping that I try to keep in order and balance as the days get shorter and winter wraps us with cold and snow. And my mental health requires long periods of gazing out the window and walks through the snow, saving all the daylight I can and marveling at the subtle colors and designs of winter. Then I turn a fond eye to that “bottom-shaped” place on the couch, and the colorful disorder of books lying in wait on the tables, floors and stairwells. “Here is my self-improvement,” I tell myself. There’s so much stuff I don’t know, and if I read all winter, by spring I’ll be much smarter. I’ll write my own self-improvement book with chapters like “What to Eat and Drink While Reading,” “Choose a Book by its Color,” or, “How to Rub Dog Bellies while Reading.” I’m sure it will make the best seller list.
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