365 True Things: 192/Calendars

I like calendars. In fact, it's getting near time to go to my favorite stationery store and pick out a few for 2016.

We always receive a calendar for Christmas from David's sister and her husband—but I let David have that. Since he's not one to go calendar shopping, and anyway: she's his sister. (Though I'm always a little reluctant to let it go: she's got exquisite taste.)

I have already bought my 2016 datebook, and started to jot down appointments: dentist on 2/29; three geocaches I need in February (2/3,10,29) to fill in my geocaching calendar; a weeklong book arts class in the quaint Sierra-foothill town of Volcano (5/4–10).

This year's datebook was The Reading Woman, with "twenty exquisite paintings by renowned European artists." For next year I went back to my old standard: the Sierra Club Engagement Calendar. Nature, nature, and more nature.

This year I had three wall calendars: Trout of North America (not the first time I've gotten this one: it's beautiful, with watercolor illustrations and distribution maps); Japanese Woodblocks: Prints of the Floating World; and The Elements: A Visual Exploration of Every Known Element in the Universe (also not the first time I've gotten this one: it's fascinating! . . . though do I take the time to read it?).

I used to write on my calendars—you know: use them for what they're meant to be used for—but this year I've relied solely on my datebook. Two of the calendars hang (entirely blank) on my office walls (it's a two-room office, with one computer desk and two work tables); the third is on a wall of the small-office-off-the-kitchen (a.k.a. bill-paying room). But these last months I've been working exclusively at the kitchen counter on my MacBook, so I hardly see my calendars. In fact, it was only the other day that I noticed the office calendars had to be changed—from August to October.

But as I've been threatening in past blog posts, changes are a-coming. One of which (retiring from editing—and this time I mean it!) will definitely involve spending more time in my office—cataloging photos, scanning slides, working on book arts, researching and writing my short stories, on my iMac—and almost no time at the kitchen counter slaving over a poorly written manuscript. And maybe I'll use a calendar for . . . paying attention to my energies, my activities, my goals. As a tool, and not just a pretty object.

Time will tell.