I am watching you.

It was still early in the snowstorm when two cardinals and a handful of white-throated sparrows took up roosting in the forsythia just outside our kitchen window. Usually they position themselves so I cannot get a decent shot of any of them, but on this gray day the male cardinal puffed himself up and said, "I dare you." Thanks to the flu, I couldn't get outside, but I happily settled for a through-the-window shot of the brightest thing in the landscape.

The puppet and the flu-monia

I bought the tickets in early November, after making sure it was okay with the kids' family schedule.

Then we bought a translation of the original Pinocchio--not the watered-down Disney version but the more complex one in which we learn that Pinocchio was often one thoughtless and self-involved puppet. Peter read to the kids each morning and they finished just yesterday. Yes, Pinocchio got to be a real boy, and yes, our kids agreed that by the end of the story he deserved it. He would be a good boy.

Today, the family saw the play at Children's Theatre in Minneapolis. Except for me. I'm enthroned in my recliner, "enjoying" flu-monia. It's been two weeks. The first week, I was pretty much able to keep up with shopping, cooking, and dishes, and do my share with the kids. The second week, slam. Nasty coughing attacks. Shortness of breath. No appetite. No energy. Peter has returned to waiting on me.

I don't really mind missing the play. It was way outside the realm of possibility for me to get out in today's frigid air with my messed-up lungs. And it will be fun to hear what the kids have to say about it when I see them on Monday. (While coughing only into my elbow, of course.)

The Lotus Eater

Many years ago, I read a book of short stories by W. Somerset Maugham. I considered his writing tedious, but one story stayed with me and I found myself referring to it from time to time in the 40-or-so years from then to now.

Called "The Lotus Eater," it tells of a British bank manager who chucks his nondescript life and moves to the isle of Capri. He has calculated that if he lives simply, he can make his savings last exactly 25 years, at the end of which he plans to take his own life. He sees this as a reasonable exchange--a shorter life but a thoroughly enjoyable one, enjoying warm breezes, ocean swims, natural beauty, and endless leisure.

The story jumps forward, and we learn from a narrator that the man never got around to doing himself in. When he first ran out of money, his easy life continued; he had paid his bills promptly for 25 years and people assumed he would soon do so again. But eventually his credit ran out. Facing hunger and homelessness, he set fire to his tiny rented house with himself inside. He survived, severely diminished. The narrator suggests that the man's brain may have been damaged by smoke inhalation, but I prefer to think he was shocked and deeply disappointed by the failure of his plan. In any case, by the time he dies he has spent six years living essentially like an animal--scavenging for food, getting a few handouts, sleeping in a shed, running from  human contact.

So why am I telling you this not-so-cheerful story?

I have always thought that the moral of "The Lotus Eater" is this: Will power is something we need to exercise regularly. If we live too easy a life we may not have the strength of character to do the difficult thing when it becomes necessary. I don't know whether I really believe that, but it seems to be a metaphor for what I was writing about a couple of weeks ago: Since retiring I have resisted structuring my day, scheduling my tasks, living by a to-do list. Without that structure, I realized that I wasn't getting around to doing things that I did, in fact, want to do. (Far better things than killing myself, by the way.)

I was going to use this story when I wrote about New Year's realizations and resolutions. But I decided I should reread it to see how reliable my memory was. I'd made haphazard efforts to find it over the years, without success. This time I Googled it and found a Wikipedia entry dated just a few months ago. I learned that I'd had the title wrong (it's singular,  not plural), and confirmed that the author was Maugham and not Evelyn Waugh. The story is found in Volume 4 of Maugham's short stories, and Amazon sent it along within the week. Isn't the Internet a wonderful thing?

The person who wrote the Wikipedia entry seemed to believe that the man should have worked longer and saved more money to be certain he didn't outlive his means. In fact, that is what most of us do, or try to do. But by telling the story through a narrator rather than the protagonist, Maugham seems determined to let us make our own judgments.

Energize: Be active, eat smart. Who knew?

I've written about the often-dreary month of November in Minnesota and how it saps my spirit and stamina. The days grow markedly shorter, the skies are leaden along with most of the landscape, and my seasonal affect disorder kicks in.

By December, days are even shorter but most days the sun shines brightly in a blue sky and reflects off a blanket of snow. The landscape glows softly with taupes and browns instead of gray. My spirits lift, and my attention turns to Christmas preparations.

This year, though I was enthusiastic about Christmas, and shopping, and decorating, my stamina didn't keep up with my inspiration. I had, in fact, become very sedentary over the past few months. Looking back, the trend was obvious. A broken leg last summer left me less active than usual. When Augie started kindergarten in September, ViMae and I settled into a routine of crafts, books, and role-playing. Occasionally we danced, ballet-style, but gone were most of the marching, running, climbing, crawling, rolling, high-energy activities instigated by our energetic boy. In November, my expectations are low, but that was masking something else.

In mid-December I realized I had little energy because I was sitting around too much.

So that was going to be my New Year's resolution: Move. Be Active. Energize. I was not going to use the term exercise, because it doesn't sound like fun and I knew it wouldn't motivate me. Fortunately, I had signed up for tap lessons, and I knew that not only would I practice but I would want to be toned and strong. Perfect!

Cinnamon rolls, potica, almond tea bread...yum!

Then on Christmas Eve I put myself into what I think of as a food coma. I started with a HoHo peppermint dark-chocolate mocha from Caribou Coffee (a regional chain coming soon to a neighborhood near you). While wrapping gifts I ate candied pecans, peppermint bark, Christmas cookies, chocolate. Peter and I began Christmas morning with holiday breads including Abby's to-die-for frosted cinnamon rolls, washed down with rich hot chocolate. Meals were not a problem...at her home Abby served up balanced, healthy, and delicious dinners both days. But at home I was indulging in too much Christmas cheer.

My simple New Year's initiative boils down to one word: Energize! But it has two components, movement and eating right. I've cut way down on the sweets and breads, and I've been getting a bit of exercise (shudder) by clearing snow from our sidewalks and driveway. Tap class was to start next week, and I've just learned it's canceled because I was the only student. But I'm going to take a few private lessons and look for another class, as well as schedule yoga and other activities instead of just leaving them to chance.

My motivators, leaving Santa a snack

It was all too easy to slip into bad habits without even noticing. I'm spelling it out (or spilling it) here to keep myself aware. Life is making precious few demands of me, but it offers wonderful opportunities, including two fabulous grandchildren. If I want to feel better, have more stamina, and just maybe stay active longer in life, I'd best make some demands of myself!