Best Intentions

Best intentions are like spare change. Most folks have them but they never amount to much. Oh they clang around in your pocket and sometimes you notice. You might think about using them but then you get distracted. Eventually you may empty the pocket on your dresser or in a penny jar because those coins just seem to be an extra weight to tote, unlikely ever to be spent. But over the next days and weeks they begin to accumulate again, jingling in you pocket. So it goes. If these are your best intentions, why do they seem to be the cheapest? They really should be in the billfold or even the bank. It’s like the analogy of setting goals and priorities by thinking of them as different sized balls filling up a jar. Put the big ones in first and then fill in the spaces with the smaller ones, as they will fit. Your best intentions should probably go in first. Dinner last night was barbequed chicken. Crispy chicken. The grill hanging off the aft rail of the cockpit has accumulated grease in the bottom pan which has a tendency to catch fire. If managed right it bestows a flavorful crispiness, if there is a lapse in attention, all can be lost…perhaps even more than just the meal (I really should clean the grill). Last night’s chicken was good. Rice and black beans and a green salad accompanied. We had made a dinghy run to Hornby’s nearby grocery Co-op yesterday and were glad to be eating fresh food again. During dinner Brooke and I talked about the near future. A best intentions discussion. Her plans take her to New York for her first regular job, then perhaps to Hawaii for a temporary stint before graduate school. Her jar seems orderly. Carefully selected sizes, not too many, with a bit of room to spare. I am going to fix up the house, the boat, pursue consulting work, write a novel, learn to cook better, take a writing class, clean and organize the garage etc etc. Balls are spilling out of my jar. Big ones sit outside while little odd shaped ones with spikes take up too much space inside. Last night I fell asleep reading Cannery Row, marveling at Steinbeck’s ability to paint such vivid pictures with words... and I was happy that our children are making the best of their best intentions.