I’m uncertain if it is artic weather, lockdowns, or my natural aversion to going places where I might need to interact with strangers. This weekend marked a change, and I found my rhythm. Some items which have languished on my To-do list have reached completion status. Nobody was more excited than I was to cross them off, mark them done, and say, “Goodbye forever.” Other assignments are inching forward. Some require me to push massive granite boulders up a steep incline, while others, I am convinced, are stubbornly immovable objects. Then there are the spooky, self-possessed tasks that mimic the mysterious Sailing Stones of Death Valley’s Racetrack Playa. Given the rare, precise conditions of ice, water, and wind, those jobs complete themselves.

Later, there will be an opportunity to ascertain the planetary alignment, contemplate the forces creating the perfect storm, and analyze my wonky perspective. For now, it must wait. My focus is not upset a balance I don’t fully understand. I strive to go with the flow, nudge, entourage, and witness serendipity in action. My head is bruised and bumpy from banging it against the proverbial brick wall, I nurse sore muscles from heavy lifting, and bandage scrapes from falling too many times to count. I am praying for the extended play version of the Matrix Effect when time slows down while everything happens in a flash. I keep stoking the fire, piling task after task onto the pyre, hoping against hope that I can clear as much backlog as possible while this phenomenon lasts.

Do you accomplish more when it’s cold?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

If you enjoy cold weather poems, here’s another.

Noses are red,
Fingers are blue.
I’m tired of winter,
How about you?

I woke Sunday morning to a balmy -9 with a wind chill of -21 degrees. At least the sun was shining when I ventured outside to shovel the driveway. I waited until it got warmer. My phone reported a whopping 3, but I am always prepared. I have an Icelandic wool coat I keep for these occasions. It is big, bulky, covers me to about mid-thigh, and it has never let me down. Wearing this cream-colored horror is an art.  I have discovered less is more, and  I only wear a long sleeve tee-shirt under it. I opt for sleeves because otherwise, the wooly fabric makes me itch and scratch, and I don’t want to entertain my housebound neighbors. Anything heavier than a tee-shirt, and I overheat. There is even a matching hat to complete my sexy and stylish ensemble. I know because Mr. Abominable said I looked hot.

Looking like an enormous round blob with a Q-Tip head isn’t so bad because I hate shivering. Since nobody can give me a definitive answer whether shivering qualifies as exercise, I err on the side of warmth. Sweating, however, does count.

My friend Maxine says the secret to surviving winter is putting on sufficient layers so that you don’t fit through the door and can’t go outside. I say the problem with staying inside is you have no choice except to interact with the cabin fever crazed lunatics who live there. They make braving treks into the frozen wasteland for extended periods seem like a vacation. Maxine and I both agree on one thing. We might have snow piled five feet high, but we cannot construct a single valid reason to waste valuable Margarita salt on the sidewalk. If the ice gets thick enough, we can chip it into cubes for our drinks.

According to my app, sub-freezing conditions extend into next week. I am ecstatic. I’m eager to try a new cold-weather sport called Extreme Hibernation. They hook up a night vision cam and record grainy black and white video of you sleeping in your den. There is no word yet on the food supply and a free Netflix subscription.

How do you survive winter?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Hey, wait a minute. What just happened. I was getting all comfy, cozy, and settled in, and now you’re telling me I missed it? How can it be over? Finished. Finito. Fertig. Färdiga. Fini. Listen, I’ve got an “F” word for you. Frigid, freezing, and frustrated. Ok, that’s three words, but you get my point. For the last ten days, I have been battling the accumulating Frosty Flakes of Snow. They promise another 2-4 inches to fall overnight onto the driveway I cleared of 2-3 inches of snow only hours ago. To add insult to this thankless task, I can look forward to contending with temps in the single digits combined with wind chills reaching 20 to 30 degrees below zero.

All shoveling and no play makes Jill a dull girl. I have a plan to inject some fun back into the last vestiges of a buried weekend. I know of a vacant icy parking lot that lacks light poles and is far from prying eyes. My rear-wheel-drive car came equipped with snow tires and an anti-skid feature I can disengage with the touch of a button. Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines. It is time for the Great 2021 Donut Marathon. Tromp on the gas, get her up to speed, then tap the brake, spin the steering wheel to the right, feel the rear end slide, and watch my little car spin. Yee Haw.

It takes a minute to relax and feel when my tires lose contact with the pavement. My first instinct is to correct, steer into the slide, straighten things out and drive right, but I resist the urge. This is an exercise about getting out of my head, letting myself feel the car, respond instinctively, and have some fun. Soon I am slipping and sliding, right donuts, followed by left donuts and a few figure eights for good measure. Tokyo Drift, I got you in my back pocket and salvaged some Sunday before sliding into Monday’s workweek.

How do you get the most from your Sunday?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Is it an act of self-sabotage, or am I so exhausted that even though I have reminded myself 80 gazillion times, I still forget to disengage my alarm on Friday night? Or maybe, I really do need to get up. After a string of early mornings and late nights, I crave my unstructured weekends and sleeping an extra hour or two past my usual wake up time. It makes sense to catch up on our slumber, right? But the scientists can’t agree. Some say you can compensate for lost hours, while others maintain we further confuse our already messed up internal circadian biological clocks.

The answer is to opt for an afternoon nap. The experts recommend aiming for one of 3 optimal nap times – 20 min, 60 min, and 90 min snooze breaks. They also suggest napping during the week. In a formal office environment, the idea was inconceivable, but working from home has created many opportunities and unforeseen perks. Shared calendars are excellent tools, and I have been using them to block my naptimes, the same way I schedule my meetings. Ok, I don’t label them as naps on the official calendar, but nobody questions my lunch break, even if it occasionally stretches to an hour and a half. Needing to eat is never an issue, but you can’t live without sleep either.

I’ve made another alteration to improve my nighttime rituals. I lowered the temperature in my bedroom. In the winter months, it’s as easy as opening the window. I remember in college, we had cold air dorms. They were big attic type rooms with beds, few lights, and no heat. I visited friends who lived in an old farmhouse in the country. The upstairs heating never worked. Frost grew on the inside of the windows, and I could see my breath. Snug under a down comforter, I never slept better. Experts say a drop in body temperature is a signal for sleep, and a room temp of between 60-67F (15-19C), should do the trick.

I’m enjoying my secret lunchtime rendezvous with my bed and the cool fresh nighttime air. Snuggling under the covers is the icing on the cake of my unexpected guilty pleasure.

Have you tried afternoon naps?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

It’s Friday. We’ve almost made it through the week, and the only thing I want is a steaming hot pot of strong, black coffee. It is the proven brew that will sustain me and get me through the day. That’s not asking for much. Is it?

Some people give me a hard time about what they call my drinking habit. I laugh and tell them I drink far more water than they do. The bottle says natural spring water, and I filter it further. The water is heated and passed through coffee grounds, sure, but it is still more water than they drink. Besides, I’ve heard about a study from a prestigious university linking coffee drinking to a longer lifespan, and I figure at this rate, I’m frigging immortal. Is it any wonder making my caffeinated beverage is the first thing I do every morning? I write it in my planner, Number 1 – Wake up, Number 2 – Make coffee, Number 3 – Drink coffee. Completing those three things makes me feel invincible, the world is my oyster, and I can tackle any problem. I ask you, how often do you accomplish that much and feel that good before 9 am? If you’re not drinking coffee, I have a suggestion.

Yes, it has been a long week, so I’m going to slink off to my quiet corner and drink my magic bean soup. Don’t worry if you hear voices from my cell, uh, I mean my desk. I assure you everything is fine. My coffee sometimes talks to me and gives me ideas. The doctor told me to write them down, and we discuss them before anyone gets hurt. I’m going now. Once the caffeine kicks in, it might be safe to talk to me again.

How do you start your morning?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

I don’t believe I have ever uttered the words “I’m bored” in my entire life and meant it. I have said the phrase in jest, or with a thick slathering of sarcasm, and a glance at my daily, weekly, monthly, projects, associated tasks list, and obligations confirms the overwhelming abundance of jobs to do. Maybe they wired some of us for activity, program individuals at a DNA level to embrace challenges, and curse them with the foresight to imagine living from a different perspective. I love organizing my surroundings to improve functionality, build a more aesthetically pleasing environment, and streamline processes to increase efficiency and intuitive operations. I like to create. My reward is the delight I see on other people’s faces.

It is easy to jump between design, implementation, redesign, and improvements and prematurely launch into the newest passion project because the time is ripe. It divides our attention, creates conflicting agendas, and transfers our focus to our latest darling before we complete previous jobs. That is when things get tricky. It can be like juggling chainsaws. I warned you my world lacked any resemblance to a dull, mundane, or humdrum existence. When I sat 45 days ago to organize my Q1 goals, I soon discovered my planner was inadequate. It told me to “Dream Big” but only provided space for a single big dream.

My answer was to buy another tracking system. This one gave me room for five goals, forcing me to play, shuffle, combine, condense, and squeeze six projects into my second binder. I resisted the urge to purchase a third since I was running out of hours in the day. Instead, I adopted an original tactic — I deemed it time to wrap up and closeout anything where I was nearing 90% completion. Nothing pushes me to cross the finish line better than the promise of dazzling, shiny, new challenges. The path to novel discoveries lies in attaining the current summit. This month the plan is to speed up my timeline. The focus is to complete the ones languishing in the almost done pile. Then I can build on the past and envision higher mountains to climb.

What will you finish in February?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Unforgettable stories fill my life. Those tales live in my memory, flow through my veins, and imbed themselves in my DNA. A tiny seed ignites a bright idea. I can write a book, a voice whispers, and my journey begins. Teachers recommend reading everything in our chosen genre and developing a daily writing habit. I scribble, read, edit and compare my product to best sellers and deem my efforts lacking. A niggling doubt blossoms into abject fear of never being “good enough.”

My reactions vary. I could give up, or vow to work harder, and descend into workaholic over-achiever mode. I obsess with unproductive comparisons or rationalize, delay, procrastinate, and otherwise avoid working on my dream.

Those traps reveal a logic flaw. I haven’t discovered a definition or consensus of an exemplary narrative or the criteria for “good enough.” The search for a sure-fire story formula leads to subjective evaluations. Readers have personal preferences and devour romance, while others call them formulaic. Futuristic technology, which doesn’t exist, does not dissuade die-hard sci-fi fans.

I must learn to practice kindness. Brilliance is not a prerequisite to start my expedition, and genius is not the end goal. The only requirement is writing to the best of my ability today. I consider the people I admire and focus on the things they do well, not their flaws. Emulating their bravery is the path I follow. I trust my novel will resonate with some readers, and I persevere.

How do you create your best story?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

It seems even Punxsutawney Phil is observing strict quarantine and social distancing guidelines. Phil has canceled all in-person events and has scheduled to broadcast his revelations streaming online via his Facebook Page and his YouTube channel. His show starts at 6:30 am EST, which is 5:30 am here in Chicago. Sorry, buddy boy, but I don’t function well at that hour of the morning. I intended to be snug in my bed and sleeping like the dead. I will have to catch the re-run at a more reasonable hour, after a cup of coffee.

February 2nd is an astronomical holiday, the year’s first cross-quarter day, to be specific. A cross-quarter day falls halfway between the solstice and the equinox. They also call it Candlemas or Imbolc. The other three cross-quarter days are May Day on May 1st also called Beltane. August 1st  is Lughnasadh or Lammas Day, and October 31st is called Samhain, or Halloween. In our calendar system, verse the astrological system, those exact days can vary, and the dates offer intriguing traditions to explore.

The people at The Farmers’ Almanac published their predictions, and they say, “winter is here for the long haul.” Despite Spring’s official arrival on March 20, their forecast is “warmer spring-like weather may not arrive until a little later.” It looks like we are in store for more exciting times and are about to experience a wild ride into Spring. Nobody said finding Paradise would be easy.

Are you hoping for a sunny day or, are you wishing for an early spring?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

It snowed and snowed and snowed. At 6 pm on Sunday, O’Hare airport logged 9.9 inches, while Romeoville reported 12.1 inches. The pile left by the plows at the end of my driveway reached above my knee, and while I didn’t measure, I guestimate the depth there at 18 -24 inches deep. Blowing and drifting create white-capped waves on the lawn, and already they are warning we will get another 1-4 inches on Thursday. Their cautions make me smile. I have a stocked fridge, heat, electricity, internet service, plenty of coffee, and I don’t have to rush to my office early Monday morning. These days, my car only requires an injection of gasoline every three months.

With our work at home mandates, I get by with clearing a safe walkway for a few sporadic deliveries. There are no venue changes and escapes to the coffeehouse for a writing session, no dinner plans with friends, and expecting company is a thing of the past. I relish the ability to ignore winter weather warnings and focus on my immediate responsibilities.

It is blissful. I choose not to engage with the reactionary media. The din recedes, creating a gentle, albeit an annoying hum I soon dismiss. Better still, I switch to my favorite background music as a more fitting compliment for my writing. I hope the snow descends and covers the world in a thick, muffling blanket. In the silent night, I listen to my heart. My muse giggles, and arm in arm, we explore.

What problems can you safely ignore?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Yesterday our staycation activities director packed her bags and prepared to leave. She reminded us of the terms and conditions of our contract. We agreed to return everything in the same or better condition, or we would forfeit our deposit. There was no way I was leaving my money on the table. So we took an inventory, created our marching orders, and went shopping. We included pantry supplies, staples, toilet paper, and dishwasher tablets on the list, along with a few goodies for our reentry into our regularly scheduled business operations.

As we loaded the car with provisions, snowflakes began to fall. Once again, they forecast an additional 5-9 inches of beautiful fluffy snow, slated to start Saturday night and finish late Sunday evening. I’m sure my sore muscles ordered another round of driveway shoveling. Soon we turn the page and start the longest month of the year. I don’t care if the calendar contradicts my assertion – I maintain my position that February, with its perpetual grey dreary days, lasts forever. It also marks the official kickoff of my countdown to Spring. Forty-seven sunrises to go.

This weekend we end our staycation and report back to work. We say goodbye to January, hello February, while we hit winter’s midpoint and move into the long transition to warmer weather. We have scheduled the arborist to fell my lovely but fatally infected, Blue Spruce. When circumstances are more appropriate, we will plant a new tree. A once necessary storage locker now stands empty, waiting to provide shelter for someone else’s precious belongings. I raise my glass of Brunello di Montalcino to cherish the memories and relish the future.

What are you celebrating?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer