Making friends with the good

I've mentioned before that I am a lazy perfectionist. This is a troubling confluence of personality traits, as you can imagine. A few months back Mrs. S reminded me (as she was reminded by Mr. S) that perfection is the enemy of the good. That might not be the exact quote, but it's the right idea. It's freeing to embrace it.

I've been putting it to practice. The painting of the Big Year birds has commenced. John James Audubon would, every year on his birthday, toss an entire year of bird sketches into the fire, challenging himself to do better (more perfect) renditions in the coming year. I really wanted to toss my initial efforts into the fireplace as well, but then remembered that we don't have a fireplace. So, I shook hands with the good, and put my paintings in frames instead. Then the husband hung them on the wall above my reading chair.

Tree sparrow, Northern cardinal, mockingbird, and roseate spoonbill. I was particularly unhappy with the mockingbird, because I see them so often in our backyard and wanted to be able to paint what I see. As Jane Eyre laments, "I imagine things I am powerless to execute."

Here is Harper's purse that she wove on her lap loom. She embraces a lack of perfection in her work. I could learn from that. One day this week, I'll take pictures of the stuffed birds she is sewing. The fleecy brown scissor-tailed flycatcher came along with us to church yesterday and sang along with a very joyful, high pitched voice. He didn't seem to mind that one of his button eyes was hanging by a thread.

We hosted our dinner club on Saturday night. We had to improvise with our small tables. Not perfect, but good. Thanks to my friends, the salmon was not a disaster. Thanks to our friends, the conversation was rich. We are rich in friends. I'm thankful they put up with me.