Perspective

It's been that sort of week, one in which the days scream by and none of us can catch our breath with any sort of ease. Like that. It is 9:30 on a Sunday night and Yukon and I have just finished our dinner. Yes, that sort of week.

Ever since my trip to see Wolf morphed into a sort of planning session for the next six months, I've been wrestling with my Inner Overachiever to try and discern what, if anything, needs to be adjusted, adapted, or simply eliminated from the double-booked Kirkland calendar.

It all began with my decline to the Magazine an offer to work on an upcoming program guide for our Native Youth Olympics. I hate saying "no". Obviously. But with a radio show, two other program guides for said Magazine and a few other interesting, albeit cheaply paid gigs to which I had already committed (few shekels or no), and a two-week vacation to see aging grandparents on both sides of the family, I simply could not carve out one more minute. And, frankly, I didn't want to.

Social media and I also have been having a disagreement on how much is too much, and it has bothered me. I've been asking friends all over town what they think and how they have managed, and have come to the decision to power down a bit.

Really, if anyone was to ask some forty years from now, what I had to contribute to the world and the community around me, do I really think it would be about the quality of Tweets I created?

Don't think so.

I'd rather be known for helping build up my oldest son's sense of self, or assist my pastor in the sabbatical journey of a lifetime, and be remembered for loving my family without a smartphone in one hand.

That's what. Stated firmly, with a glass of merlot in my hand and not the phone.

Amen.