Each week, another book. Each week, another deadline.
And another. It’s gone on like this for nearly 7 years, and you’d think I’d resent it. The sameness.
The routine. Lather.
Repeat. Surprisingly, though, I don’t resent it at all.
I enjoy my routine immensely. At the moment, in-between Antidote retreats, with a chicken and corn mole to make, and some bison bolognese to prep, I’m fully out of my daily grind, and out of my comfort zone. As of next week, though, with the kids back in school and Antidote behind us, I’ll revel in the sameness of it all. Get up.
Make the kids breakfast.
Get them off to school.
Go for a hike.
Do my work.
Pick the kids up from school.
Watch tv. And then do it again and again, until Xmas break. There’s a beauty in this routine, in that it’s life. It’s what we do. It’s the structure through which we share moments and meals with our loved ones. Everyday life may not be where we make our most vivid memories, but it’s the meat and potatoes of the days of our lives. (If that’s not the cheesiest sentence I’ve written in this column, maybe somebody can find a better example?) The truth is, I’m punch drunk at the moment, which you can probably tell. My earlier paragraphs look like a succession of William Carlos Williams poems. Or maybe ee cummings? Regardless, even now, half-useless as I may be, there’s always a point. (I’m keeping it short today, given my life constraints, and the likelihood you’re on vacation anyway.) “Palimpsests” is a new book by Max Sher, published by Ad Marginem Press, that was sent all the