the x-y axis for those with math-trophy.

I never would describe myself a patient person.  Of course, if need be I can sit still for long periods of time without making a peep or moving a muscle.  However, when it comes down to it, if I set out to do something I expect nearly immediate gratification.  Lucky for me, my talents tend to populate the "fairly instant" quadrant of a plane ranging from "instant" to "ready sometime next year."  This is the case with one recent craft project that I have deemed "the orcas scarf."   

Sometime last year, I think it was January, my boyfriend and I embarked on a trip to the San Juan Islands.  The San Juans are remarkably beautiful islands in the puget sound that encapsulate exactly why the pacific northwest is so special.  Orcas Island is the largest and steepest of the islands and much to my surprise contains a number of small organic farms.  On our drive back to the ferry we elected to stop off at a local farm that advertised yarn.  Lucky for me I had just recently learned to knit.  I found a perfectly beautiful hand woven turquoise skein of yarn and snapped it up.  I started knitting the yarn last September and finished it about two weeks ago in a fit of rage.  I swear, the little ball of yarn would not die.  After four days of knitting four hours a day I finally hurled the ball across the room and stayed awake until I had knitted every last inch of the yarn I had unfurled across the expanse of my apartment.  After about six hours, and six or seven episodes of vintage "Beverly Hills 90210."  I am the proud owner of a turquoise scarf knitted in the very warm and cozy seed stitch.  I am also a former knitter.  

Unlike the scarf that took me 6 (yes, that's right, SIX!) months to finish, today I started baking caramel crunch bars at 3 o'clock and by 6 I had 50 delicious little bars cut and prepared for gifts or special treats for myself after particularly successful endeavors to the gym.    

I think about the quilts my grandmother made throughout her life or the fly fishing rods my father spends hours meticulously building and I get somewhat nostalgic that I have nothing to show for myself, that I have no tangible evidence of my creative talent.  Really, though, I know myself well enough that if something drives me to throttle a perfectly harmless inanimate object across the room that I should stick to something that offers the same creative satisfaction in a fraction of the time.  Thus, I cook.  

Is it bad that I prefer the instant gratification of two hours in the kitchen with nothing to show for my efforts an hour later or is it simply fine that I choose to refrain from endeavors in the long term quadrant ensuring less arthritis in the future?   

I'm not sure.  I'll get back to you after I get home from the gym.