What day is it?

I am retired. All days are the same. Well, Sundays are different because I don't swim on Sundays. But weekends/weekdays - all the same and yet, I still feel, strongly, that today is the Saturday after Monday. It's disconcerting and more so because it makes no sense.

But it is Saturday. The pool opens at 9 and while I like to get in the minute it opens, it's especially important on Saturdays because some Saturdays draw whackos and lane divas. People who make my swim difficult by getting in my way and bending the lane swimming rules to make it less fun for everyone.  I plan to swim my entire hour but am grateful if I can get in 30 minutes. I swim for fun. When it gets not fun - like dodging prima donnas - I get out.  So I'll get there when it opens and hope for the best.

And then brunch. I'm kind of blank on where today. Maybe back to Smith's. Maybe back to Witness. Maybe someplace different that I think of while I'm swimming. Maybe the Skillet.

My Twitter and Google Plus feeds are full of CES. If I were going this year, I'd be leaving on Monday morning and today and tomorrow I'd be packing and wallowing in anticipation. I have gone the past 4 years - 3 with my brother. I love the visit with my brother and Las Vegas and the gadgetry. It feels weird not to be going but it's my choice. I kind of intended to skip a year and go next year but maybe not going will be more better than I expected. This next week will tell the tale.

I have done a fabulous job of cleaning off my TiVo harddrive. On December 1 it was at 70% and now it's at 20%. I could get it down even more if I deleted the 10 Law&Order and 25 Big Bang Theory episodes I keep for emergencies.  This weekend I'll finish off Mozart in the Jungle and rewatch the last episode of Downton Abby and I'll be all ready for new shows.

I have a week and a half before the next bear delivery and I think I'm in pretty good shape numbers wise. I think I can do 15-18 a month and still have time for other knitting and crocheting projects. I think 15-18 is a respectable number.

Ok, now it's time to suit up and head out.

Comfort Zone

I have taken up permanent, nearly hermitizing residence in my comfort zone. I slip out of it very occasionally and am rarely rewarded for those forays.

It wasn't always this way. I used to live on the edge. The edge of my work life and my life life. I loved it. It was thrilling and I loved the thrill. I bungee jumped literally (at the spot where bungee jumping started in New Zealand!) and figuratively. I tried everything and loved it all.

And I have marvelous memories and the secure knowledge that that part of my life is done. Tied up with a bow.

While I love my comfort zone, I have, once in a while, wondered if it was just the cop out of a lazy old woman.

Until today when I read yet another essay from the very cool book The Unspeakable: And Other Subjects of Discussion by Megan Daum. Over brunch this morning I read some amazing thoughts about the value of living in your comfort zone.

But having lived most of my life firmly within the confines of a very specific set of interests and abilities, I can tell you that the comfort zone has many upsides. It may be associated with sloth and cowardice and any number of paralyzing, irrational phobias. It may be a dark abyss where misunderstood people lie around in fading recliners listening to outdated music. But I’m convinced that, when handled responsibly, the comfort zone can be as useful and productive as a well-oiled industrial zone. I am convinced that excellence comes not from overcoming limitations but from embracing them. At least that’s what I’d say if I were delivering a TED Talk. I’d never say such a douchy thing in private conversation.

I once interviewed the actress Diane Keaton about her status as a “style icon.” If you follow such things, you probably know that the menswear that helped make Keaton famous in Annie Hall has evolved over the decades into a wardrobe that has branded her, if not exactly a trendsetter, at least an unapologetic marcher to her own sartorial drummer. Keaton wears a lot of wide cinched belts and oversized jackets. She never wears evening gowns, not even at the Oscars, but she often wears elbow-length gloves—“It’s just a little something extra,” she said to me.

When I asked her what inspired these choices she told me that everything she wears is an effort to compensate for some flaw. She said she started wearing big jackets to draw attention away from her narrow shoulders. She said she had “no waist” so she faked one with wide, dramatic belts. In other words, Keaton only wears clothes that she feels she looks good in. And because these turn out to be very particular clothes, she ends up adhering to the same basic style no matter what the occasion. She’s been anointed a “style icon” not because she is especially daring but because she has a limited range. It is within the confines of the comfort zone that she has found greatness.

This is fascinating and validating. And I love that at nearly 66 years old, I'm still on the look out for and so thrilled to find validation.