Instead, I’m trying to use up all those 39-centers, 37-centers, 34-centers and 33-centers and all the one, two and three cent stamps that I bought to get them up to the next level. I’m scratching my head trying to figure out what the ones without a face value are actually worth.

I tried returning them to the post office, but the US Postal Service wasn’t buying. And so now, on top of everything else in my unbalanced life, are little envelopes of postage that must travel in armies to make the journey from my house to yours.

I suspect a nationwide search would find enough of these little fragments to pay off the national debt. Anyone know of a charity that takes them?

I owe this bit of wisdom to the clunky black Velcro’d one the surgeon handed me after a 30-minute procedure to straighten the demon toe.

“No weight on the foot,” he said soberly, and left me to figure out the details.

“Not to worry,” I told my daughter, who thought I’d be bored silly stuck inside, watching icicles drip from the back gutters. “I’ve got a million things to do sitting down.”

It was no lie. First, taxes. Then, file cabinets that had not been cleared since 2005, to say nothing of all the paperwork remnants from my husband’s death last spring.

But it was not so much the available workload as a non-fiction book from the library that set the tone for my recovery. According to “The Power of Slow,” being sidelined could save me from frenetic multitasking and lead me on to a life of incredible productivity and peace.

The trick, it suggested, was to focus completely on one thing at a time. No more leaping up from the computer to take the clothes out of the dryer and deposit them on the living room couch for folding by way of a trip to the refrigerator for a snack. “Boot camp,” I realized, was the perfect opportunity for me to practice staying in one place, attention completely fixed on the task at hand.

Being in a boot also lent itself to another of the book’s suggested strategies: delegation. Finding others to do the task was one of its “101 ways to save time in our 24/7 world.”

“Going to the grocery anyway,” announced my sweet neighbor Jane. “Tell me what you need.” And in she came a few hours later with a bag of laundry soap, bananas, milk, peaches and coffee.

Of course, there were still temptations. I could still sit at the computer and open multiple windows, leaping from program to program, task to task, opening e-mails while I composed a letter or talked on the phone. All these are forboden activities in the World of Slow.

Empowered, I suppose, by the rush of slowly emptying the dishwasher plate by plate while seated, I resisted multitasking also at the computer. Instead, I drilled down through the online tax organizer, e-mail window shut, and laboriously entered the expense for every copy run, every registration fee paid, every postage stamp purchased for my business in the previous year.

I must admit there is a certain joy in immersion, actually staying in one place long enough to see a multi-step process through to the end.

There is so much joy, in fact, that I’d like the power of slow to continue long after the stitches come out and the boot has gone to the land of just-in-case medical equipment on the unfinished side of the basement.

Boot long gone, I plan to sit still, working just one window at a time, drilling down as I should. With an occasional peek at e-mail. But only every 10 minutes or so.

Copyright 2010 Pat Snyder

It was a surprise to discover that I was inspired! Not by the programs so much but a series of testimonials ads featuring the luminaries on MSNBC – Chris Matthews, Rachel Maddow and Andrea Mitchell

Like their politics or not, it’s hard not to be inspired by the fire with which they describe their passion for their work: the thrill of asking just the right question, the joy of digging for more, the thrill of detecting dissembling.

Journalism isn’t for everyone. Neither is politics. But passion can be. So I’m working on my own two-minute ad, just for me. Not done yet, but some likely components – the thrill of finding just the right word, the fun of making someone laugh…. You get the idea.

What’s YOUR sound byte?

Nothing like a little foot surgery to make me appreciate my usual (though yes, ill-conceived) ability to do six things at once. Testing out the premise that it’s better to focus on one thing at a time, I’ve read two books in four days and filled six garbage bags with documents accumulated in office drawers since 2005 and happily retrieved the instructions to a previously “non-working” radio. Who knew the “on” button was in the back?

No doubt staying in one place is helping me focus. Now, if I could only keep my thoughts so well tethered….

Julia Cameron of Artist Way fame would not be surprised to know she’s inspired me. Her insistence on writing three pages every morning and taking a weekly “artist date” has inspired many a writer.

But she might be surprised to know that she has also inspired my choice this week of a bathroom rug. The design, which looks like one large single marigold, takes me back to a time ten years ago at a writers conference, when I noticed her taking an intentional detour on her way to the dining hall simply to examine a single marigold growing in the garden. I watched as she stood there for a very long time, taking it in. Art, I realized at that moment, sometimes comes to us from slowing down.

It will be nice to look at the rug and remember.

“It’s time to put my personal stamp upon the house.”

“No offense to your dad,” I assured my daughter, “but it’s time to change the space. I feel like he’s coming around the corner every minute. It feels a little weird.”

Diplomatic to the core, she worked hard to mask the terror in her eyes. She didn’t flinch or reflect on my decorating disasters of the past.

She simply smiled and caught her breath: “I think you should call a professional,” she said.

She was not alone. My friends offered the same advice. I was soon connected with a Feng Shui consultant in case my husband’s illness had tainted the energy in the house, and a real estate marketer, who would keep me from making the place completely un-sellable in the future.

“Not to worry,” I told my daughter. “I’ve got all kinds of experts helping me out.”

It was truer than I knew. On the first walk-through, the real estate marketer suggested calling a couple of design consultants, whose forte was offering style on a budget.

Since then, my head has spun with all the helpful advice.

“Don’t paint a thing,” said the marketer. “Keep everything neutral.”

Painting the back wall of the office darker might be nice, suggested the Feng Shui consultant, who favored warming up the “travel and helpful people” corner of the house, so I could move on.

“Definitely paint the office but in a light taupe that will show off the bookshelves,” offered the designers.

They also wanted the back of the living room couch to face the front door so the room would be cozier.

“Absolutely not!” said the Feng Shui lady, who wanted a more welcoming look.

The marketer was neutral on the position of the couch, but thought the hallway should have a runner. The designers disagreed.

Family pictures were an issue for everyone – the marketer urging me to remove them, the Feng Shui lady urging me to move them off the fireplace so the relationships “didn’t burn up,” and the designers shooting down my idea of parking everything on a portable photo screen.

The screen seemed like the perfect compromise, only they thought it would clash with the fabric panels they’d not yet recommended but – come to think of it – were absolutely essential.

After a few days of this, it occurred to me that two words had been left gasping by the side of the decorating road: “personal stamp.”

In a personal stamping fury, I yanked the TV out of the living room, ordered a small red one that looks like an apple for the kitchen counter, and hung the microwave over the stove.
I am proud to say that the apple – complete with stem and leaves – has won everyone’s heart.

“Fantastic!” said the designers.

“Perfect for the creativity area!” said the Feng Shui lady.

As for the ghost of my TV-loving husband, the living room will have much less appeal. And once I’ve mastered the apple’s simple two-step remote, I suspect he’ll slip out.

“I knew she could do it,” he’ll say.

Copyright 2010 Pat Snyder

Not a fan of TV in the living room anyway, I decided to move mine to the kitchen. It’s not so comfortable to watch in there, which is a huge benefit. I now limit my daily dose of depressing news to the time it takes to fix a salad and quick dinner. (Not to worry, there’s another set for great movies downstairs in front of the exercise equipment).

The unexpected benefit was this: With the TV came only two of the six remotes. The others belonged to a DVD player and VHS player (too big for the kitchen), and a CD player and speaker (just two remotes). Divided up, they’re almost impossible to screw up. Well, I think. The giant dismemberment required disconnecting all the wires. And who knows when I’ll figure out how to reconnect them. Till then, I’m living the blissful two-remote life and listening to the radio (no remote, just one button).

Snowy Vision

It was hard to miss the metaphor. Four of us, holed up for a “visioning retreat” in a Morrow County farmhouse over the weekend, got stuck in the snow both coming and going.

On one level, as we looked out on sparkling white farm fields, we were inspired to plan 2010 with high hopes. On another, we were literally spinning our wheels.

As with all times of stuck-ness, there was plenty of advice.

“Gun the motor!”

“Turn the wheel the other way!”

“Try backing up!”

In the end it was a unified push from my friends that un-stuck the Prius from the top of the hill and sent her handily down the driveway.

Hard to miss the metaphor on that one.