a chair is: My New Motivational Metaphor

Friday, November 25, 2011

My New Motivational Metaphor

I watched this video, laughed (a lot), passed it on.
Then I began to think about cooking a turkey as a metaphor for all the procrastination and dithering, rationalization and fear that keeps me from getting things done.

"Just put the f*cking turkey in the oven"* is a catchphrase I'm going to try out for awhile.
(Edited, of course, when in sensitive or impressionably young company.)

Thinking of certain items on my To-Do list as 'turkeys' might be very useful.

Think about all the ways we needlessly complicate things that must be done, when the tasks are often quite simple and straightforward.

If we just start getting those turkeys in the oven and going for walks (metaphor, of course, for the stuff we are eager to do) how nice would that be!

So, do you have any turkeys to get in the oven today? Any walks you want to go on?
-------------------------------------------

*If you're a vegetarian and that image repulses you, feel free to go with tofurkey. Actually 'f*ckin' tofurkey' has some very nice consonance to it.

)O(

Labels: Procrastination

2 Comments:

Linda Sue said...: I tried tofurkey once and it was a disaster- like eating my car seat. nasty! Turkey is kind of nasty also- but salmon- I can do! Procrastination belongs to perfectionistic personalities, glad i am not one of those! I will do a bad job just to get it done and out of the way- leaves more time for walks with the pooch. We both benefit.; 2:09 PM, November 25, 2011
'Zann said...: Lovely Linda!!! I'm not fond of the tofurkey myself. And you are so right about the connection between procrastination & perfectionism. Perfectionism is also what keeps people from delegating, allowing others to help them with tasks. Great to see your name pop up - you are always thought of with love!; 3:02 PM, November 25, 2011

Welcome to my decluttering blog!

I began this in early 2006, focusing on decluttering my home, organizing my life. I accomplished a lot in a short time, but then tragedy struck our family again when my youngest son died in March of that year. I found myself completely unable to continue as I had planned. I found myself on a very different healing journey.

In May 2009, I began the most basic decluttering of all - a project to lose weight and create healthy habits for the rest of my life. It seemed appropriate to write about that here.

Two years later, I've gained back 15 of the 40 pounds I lost, turned 60 and am going through some sea change in my thinking. Though I doubt I'll ever be a 100 Things minimalist, I'm getting a lot out of reading minimalist blogs and I am definitely freeing myself of more. I do this blog to keep myself motivated, but it will be a splendid bonus if I can also provide inspiration and comradeship to those on their own journeys to creating joyful lives.
Namaste!
--Zann 10/13/2011 About Me

Official chair is...
Folk Song & Folk Tale

Why an official blog folk song & tale?

There's A Hole in the Bucket

There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole.

So fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it.

With what should I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I fix it, dear Liza, with what?

With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, with straw.

But the straw is too long, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The straw is too long, dear Liza, too long.

So cut it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So cut it dear Henry, dear Henry, cut it!

With what should I cut it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I cut it, dear Liza, with what?

Use the hatchet, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use the hatchet, dear Henry, the hatchet.

But the hatchet's too dull, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The hatchet's too dull, dear Liza, too dull.

So, sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So sharpen it dear Henry, dear Henry, sharpen it!

With what should I sharpen it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I sharpen, dear Liza, with what?

Use the stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use the stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, the stone.

But the stone is too dry, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The stone is too dry, dear Liza, too dry.

So wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So wet it dear Henry, dear Henry, wet it.

With what should I wet it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I wet it, dear Liza, with what?

With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, water.

With what should I carry it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I carry it dear Liza, with what?

Use the bucket dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use the bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, the bucket!

But...there's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza...

The Old Woman
and Her Pig

ONCE upon a time an old woman was sweeping her little house, when, to her great joy, she found a silver sixpence.

"What," said she, "shall I do with this little sixpence? I think I will go to market and buy a pig." So the next day she went to market and bought a nice little white pig. She tied a string to one of the pig's legs and began to drive him home.

On the way the old woman and her pig came to a stile, and she said:

"Please, pig, get over the stile."

But the pig would not.

Just then a little dog came trotting up, and the old woman said to him:

"Dog, dog, bite pig;
Pig won't get over the stile,
And I sha'n't get home to-night."

But the dog would not. So the old woman held up her stick, and said:

"Stick, stick, beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't get over the stile,
And I sha'n't get home to-night."

But the stick would not.

So the old woman gathered some bits of wood together to make a fire, and set them on fire, and then threw her stick into the fire and said:

"Fire, fire, burn stick;
Stick won't beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't get over the stile,
And I sha'n't get home to-night."

But the fire would not.

So the old woman fetched a pail of water that was standing near and said:

"Water, water, quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't get over the stile,
And I sha'n't get home to-night."

But the water would not.

Then the old woman saw an ox coming; so she said:

"Ox, ox, drink water;
Water won't quench fire;
Fire won't bum stick;
Stick won't beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't go;
I see by the moonlight
It's long past midnight;
Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago."

But the ox would not.

So the old woman turned around and saw a butcher, and she said:

"Butcher, butcher, kill ox;
Ox won't drink water;
Water won't quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't go.
I see by the moonlight
It's long past midnight;
Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago."

But the butcher would not.

So the old woman took a rope out of her pocket, and said:

"Rope, rope, hang butcher;
Butcher won't kill ox;
Ox won't .drink water;
Water won't quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't go.
I see by the moonlight
It's long past midnight;
Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago."

But the rope would not.

Just then a large brown mouse ran across the meadow, and she said:

"Mouse, mouse, gnaw rope;
Rope won't hang butcher;
Butcher won't kill ox;
Ox won't drink water;
Water won't quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't go.
I see by the moonlight
It's long past midnight;
Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago."

"Yes," said the mouse, "I will, if you will give me some cheese."

So the old woman put her hand in her pocket and found a nice piece of cheese; and when the mouse had eaten it:

The mouse began to gnaw the rope,
The rope began to hang the butcher,
The butcher began to kill the ox,
The ox began to drink the water,
The water began to quench the fire,
The fire began to burn the stick,
The stick began to beat the dog,
The dog began to bite the pig,
And the pig began to go.

But what time the old woman and her pig got home you, nor I, nor nobody knows.

--Tales of Laughter (1902), eds. Kate Douglas Wiggin and Nora Archibald Smith