There is always a list of stuff you’re supposed to do. Then there are the things you want to do. Then there are the things into which you can stumble into and fritter the day away. I like frittering far more than I like fritters. I love words that are nouns and verbs. When I think of fritters I think of things like hush puppies. But without really fresh FRIED seafood, hush puppies are no good. And I prefer my hush puppies on the sweeter side and without the chopped onions. I like corn fritters too. [Ah, a love of food I don’t ever cook.] Fritters are food. People fritter but aren’t fritters. They eat fritters. You can accuse them of frittering. But don’t confuse them with a paper towel lined basket of steaming hot corn fritters.

Frittering is a verb describing the nearly pointless endeavors that chew up time but cause no pressure or stress. If you have a deadline, what you’re doing to make your deadline is definitely not frittering.

Yesterday, I frittered. I picked up my fraternal twin quilts from Buttons&Bows. Those ladies love me out there. Miss Tracey did the long arm quilting on my two Bento Box quilts. I had so much extra fabric cut, I used the excess to sew improvisational backs to the Bento boxes. One quilt is Lime and one is Turquoise. I trimmed off all the extra batting and sewed on binding and sat yesterday (and part of the day on Saturday) hand stitching the 2 1/2 binding. I did this while doing some laundry and watching episodes of MI-5 on Netflix and then the new Masterpiece Mysteries on PBS. I finished only one of the quilts. I did putter out to get a Sunday massage, my antidote to the Sunday blahs. And I made a grocery run…for what is a day without my offering to Publix? I made Naan pizzas for dinner or rather each of us made our individual Naans. And then I plunked myself back down for more hand stitching. I do not have enough light after dark to hand stitch and threading the eye of a needle gets tough. (Shall I admit my middle aged eyes are straining to see clearly even with my 1.5 cheaters?)

But my frittering ended with one quilt being complete and absolutely lovely.



I will sew on the binding to the second tonight after work and fritter some more. And while I was off frittering at the quilt store, obstensibly to simply collect my two quilts…..I bought the backing for the Wonky Star Birds …….and a few more fat quarters for my next project. I can fritter away no limit of time at my sewing machine deaf to¬† the nagging and gnawing lists of things I shoulda-coulda-woulda. But…..I live in a small town. I have a Townie mentality. I didn’t want to drive ALL THE WAY over there to run those errands. And when you permit yourself to fritter, you absolve yourself of the guilt associated with wasting time. I didn’t waste a thing. I was frittering. I am a fritterer. Some days I am a do-er, a shaker, a worker, a mover. I am a walker and a thinker. I am a baker. I daydream about being a lover. But I thoroughly enjoyed being a fritterer. There is plenty of time in life….in the work week….to compress myself and be uber efficient. I can make what is necessary get done. And I put stuff on my NECESSARY list that most other consider superfluous. The Martha Stewart effect…the embellishments of life….are not embellishments for me. They are necessary. It is what make my life so lovely and beautiful. And it is also why I love to fritter.

When people tell me to relax. Take it easy. What I hear is….”be still”. I am not an idle person. [see reference to adult A.D.D.] As a child…I flapped. My sisters and I, in descending order with me as the baby, were nicknamed by my mother as “Itch, Scratch and Rash”. I must have been a tormenting child. I can be a tormenting adult. And LORD, I find idle time and boredom tormenting, too. And my solution is to fritter.

It is a mash up of daydreaming and creative tasking or minor chores. Frittering is cleaning out closets or organizing a gardening bench or ironing napkins for storage or going through a cedar chest. Frittering is a long Sunday drive. Frittering is clipping coupons and organizing photos on Picasa.

But Monday mornings when I am supposed to be getting ready for work are not the time to be frittering. Happy Monday folks!

I am a fritterer.

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