Timed Out

This blog is about Time and after growing up with Once Upon a Time, I consider this to be a worthwhile topic. On Sunday we heralded in the truly unique concept called Daylight Savings Time. Saving daylight? Unable to successfully save money, I save greeting cards, paper clips and random pieces of saran wrap. If I am not using it – I get rid of it and I only buy more when what I have is gone. However, save, save, save. The more the merrier. Closets overflowing, garages bursting at the seams, let’s be honest, saving is sometimes a forerunner for confusion but I will be open minded and promote saving Time.

Although Time can be wasted there is never a problem of where to put saved time. Taking up no closet, garage, draw, or office space, Time ranks high on my ‘Save This” list. Microwaves have given us solid proof that Time is one of life’s most subjective elements. Two minutes. Two minutes. Two minutes – can you stand the wait? Another endlessly long two-minute wait is when I am instructed to leave conditioner on my hair for two minutes. Who would have thought that two minutes could be so long?

  I won’t reveal the number of my next birthday but it certainly allows me to say, “Is Time Running Out?” Writing Time Sensitive on an envelope makes it appear to be more important, so I have labeled some lifestyle choices as Time Sensitive, and I am selective. Because I have more time on my hands, one of the ways I pass the time is to read about life in times past. “But, but …that’s not productive. What does reading accomplish?” At a minimum, it keeps me out of trouble and I am old enough to still consider ‘enjoyable’ to be important.

 I just finished a non-fiction account of two Scottish sisters who traveled to Egypt in the 1800’s searching for ancient manuscripts. I like to read historic narratives and this one really had me thinking and imagining what life would have been like ‘back then.' The ladies were traveling when women rarely left the yard. They traveled alone across the Sinai desert. In an ancient Egyptian synagogue, they discovered oodles (an academic term) of manuscripts one of which was a letter written by a Jerusalem mom to her son in Egypt. The year was 527. Not 1527 but 527. The concerned mom/ grandma was coaxing her son to return to Jerusalem, using the finance card. He should return with the grandchildren because “the prices are now so cheap.” Oh. Do I recognize a pattern here? Not that I ever used the same argument for family to return to Florida, I would never do that.

            The adventurous sisters were successful travelers because they were accomplished linguists. They could speak and read, Arabic, Hebrew, Greek and a rare dialect of Palestinian Syric. After seven academic years studying French, a three month stay in Paris and countless hours watching a PBS Learn to Speak French show, I can slowly, carefully, order an Omelette du Fromage. How do I explain this foreign language deficiency? I will jump on board with the current adaptation of English and say “I 'm not wired for it.” I also don’t have the time.