In my search for the proverbial/mythical planner peace, I thought I might like a Hobonichi Weeks. Since it was Feb/Mar at the time, and I already had three other planners I was trying out, I decided to get an undated Fauxbonichi from Amazon for like $8. Disliking the look of it, I bought a plastic cover and printed off the following insert based on a free dashboard design from Plan With Bee. Click below to download/print my cover insert - just print it off, trim it down a bit, and insert in the plastic cover. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1WnMe2wjLSlKTwuqtW9KL5CDTNRfd1TGZ/view?usp=sharing
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@kaytludi -
Kayt Ludi
So, probably in order to try to tame the chaos of my life, I have been diving deep into the planning world lately. I've been planning for years, eons even, but it used to be strictly functional (which is a polite way of saying my planners were ugly - not that all functional planning is ugly, but MINE WAS). I would quickly scribble down stuff to be done, with any implement I had on hand, and cross things out and move them around to the point of being indecipherable by anyone but (hopefully) me. All with the no nonsense goal to get it down, get it done, and move on. I never decorated any of them, nor did I keep them for any reason - at the end of the year they went in the trash. But I never found the perfect planner - one that could accommodate every area of my life. And I still have not, so far. Though I am starting to decorate it, journal in it, and plan to keep them from now on. I would love to have a gorgeous BuJo, but I cannot manage to force myself to keep one due to the time ...
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@kaytludi -
Kayt Ludi
In honor of National Tell a Fairy Tale Day I thought I'd share something I wrote awhile ago. It is a very familiar fairy tale, but told from a different character's point of view. Enjoy ;-) The Myth of The Englishman The fire was crackling, and the rain was tapping its usual song on the roof, but she heard the knock at the door. She’d been waiting and listening for it. She had sent for them hours ago when she had first become concerned. Finally, the two of them stood at her door – soaked to the bone. They removed their coats, and their otherwise crisp uniforms were now soggily hanging from their conspicuous frames. She was beside herself with worry, but manners dictated she offer the men some tea and cake. “So, you say your husband is missing Ma’am?” one of the officers asked, as she poured the first cup of tea. “Yes, sir.” she warbled. “And it’s not like him. Not like him at all. He never misses a meal! Breakfast, brunch, ...
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