I've got so many balls in the air right now, I just know they're about to start crashing to the floor. I'm on the gerbil wheel, but I can't make it go fast enough. The problem is — everything is a priority.

Though I just sent the May Spirit of Saratoga magazine to the printer last Monday, the June issue deadlines are creeping up. I just sent out a bunch of e-mails to writers with my usual apology: "Sorry for making your deadline so tight because I'm so far behind." I spent a while this morning calling clothing stores that carry men's clothing to see if they would participate in our fashion shoot for the next magazine, but I had no success. As much as the store managers want to, their corporate rules (they were chain stores) won't allow them to allow any unpurchased clothing out of the store. Bummer. So what's the next brilliant idea? The pressure of deadline looms, and I need time to think, be creative. It's such an oxymoron.


Of course, the magazine is just small portion of what I do. And working with reporters and other editors on planning for the daily paper drains major time out of every day. I'm a planner, so I enjoy that part of the job. Truth is though, with everything we have to respond to every day -- directing reporters and photographers here and there — and the hundreds of e-mails, dozens of phone calls, there is little time for actual editing. (That's not good for a control freak like me, and I do have to go home and be a mom, and wife, and housekeeper and cook, etc, etc.)

My routine at work has no real routine, as much as I've really tried for nearly four years. Each day's routine boils down to crisis time management. Each thing comes at me throughout the day, that's what I have to handle first. And in between the raindrops, I'm trying — without a lot of success — to look ahead or catch up, mostly the latter.

OK, gotta stop here so I can get to one of the hundreds of other things that need my attention ...