There is a story in my family about how, in the months leading up to Christmas 1962, my mother hid even the waste threads snipped after sewing the seams of an outfit she was making for me.  This was because I was such a nosy child, although I might say exceptionally curious or extremely attentive.

Earlier that fall, she had sewn a blue and white checked cape (reminiscent of scenes from The Sound of Music) for my best friend, Melinda.  That I already had a matching cape, did not sooth my desire for another something new.  And, with Christmas lists growing, I felt sure that my wardrobe had been forgotten.  As it happened, Momma only worked on my surprise gift when curious eyes were not around – during the school day and after bedtime.  Then, she would carefully put everything away, not even leaving the bobbin in the bobbin case of the sewing machine for fear that I might notice her using a different color thread and ask what she was making.  Her clandestine approach to that sewing project did give me a Christmas surprise.

Over the years, I have found practical applications for my attention to detail without sliding precariously into OCD obsessions.  From my days as a library page shelf-reading and putting books back in Dewey order to participating in library funding formula discussions, the outcome of which eventually become library legislation.

While paying attention is a useful skill when building a house or planning a new church, there can be downsides.  At the beginning of this second-time-around administration, I had planned to stay better informed by increasing the number of news sources and journalists I read or viewed each day.  And while I did this in January, I was quickly overwhelmed.  I found my logical brain simply could not manage the overt inconsistencies from day-to-day; contradictory statements or actions that sometimes occurred only hours apart or even spoken within the same paragraph.  By mid-February, I was relying solely on Stephen Colbert’s nightly monologue and The Late Show political guests for my news.  Obviously not a practical approach when striving to be an informed voter, and my news-junky to comedy-only approach to current events needed modification. As I shared in an early February blog post, “Red Hat Resilience” I now limit my news gathering and then balance the harshness of that day’s events with reading poetry.

Paying attention also has advantages like realizing after just one row of the sweater I am knitting (283 stitches wide) that I had been so attentive to the storyline of The Brokenwood Mysteries episode we were watching that I knitted the same wrong side row twice.  While not easily visible on my needles, this error would definitely have revealed an ugly break in the featured lace and cable design of the finished garment.  Today’s task – TINK (that is – knit backwards) the incorrect row and probably not while watching Acorn TV.

There are days when I prefer not to pay attention to the “real world.”  When I adjust the banded shades to allow in daylight but, still drawn, create a cocoon.  When the only activity I want to undertake is knitting.  Or knitting and baking.  Or knitting, baking, and reading.  When I am tempted to let every phone call (other than Momma’s number) go to voicemail.  And I admit there are days when I ignore my Gmail inbox.  But that always has unwanted consequences as I still need to read a flood of building correspondence about window placement, or the preferred number of stoves and refrigerators in the church kitchen, or the weight of 98-solar panels on the west roof.

And so, the challenge continues.  Just as yesterday’s vernal equinox provided celestial balance with equal hours of day and night, I will continue to strive for equilibrium – between staying informed about the harsh realities of US politics and our sedate day-to-day life on Solstice Place.