Endeavors

C is for Clutter

September 8, 2010

in Endeavors

C is for Clutter

Did I mention I have magical powers? I didn’t? Oh, well, I have magical powers. Any time I decide to like something, it suddenly becomes popular. When I think of someone, they will usually call or email. If I need money, somehow it shows up just in the nick of time. Some people call it law of attraction, other people call it God, and other people call it damn lucky. Don’t be fooled; it’s magic. Abracadabra!

Exhibit A:

In 1986, I thought it might be cool to wear leggings under a skirt. I was a bit chicken to do something so fashion forward, but I convinced Kara to do it with me. Next thing we know, all of California is doing it.

Exhibit B:

In 2003, I think I might love the color aqua. That’s how analytical I can be, by the way. I construct decision matrices to determine whether a color should get promoted. I make them in my head but, still, it’s weird. Anyway, I decide (via matrix) that I am not willing to part with chocolate-brown, despite my new love for aqua. I decide to love them equally, and then get the great idea to shop for chocolate-brown and aqua accessories for the house. I stop by Crate and Barrel and ask if they have any rugs in this colorway (fancy!) and the salesperson says she’s never seen those two colors combined (i.e., it sucks). Joke’s on you, sister. 2005, if you recall, became the year of brown and aqua. It’s all good, because yellow stole my heart in 2007.

Exhibit C:

In 2010 (okay, two weeks ago) I’m worried about cash. Specifically, I need cash to buy a writing tablet at Mikey’s school. They don’t accept ATM cards and I know I’m going to forget to go to the bank. (I’m magical, not perfect.) I’m on the phone with my sister in-law when I put on an old pair of jeans. In the back pocket is $5.

I could go on, but I don’t want to show off. Also, I don’t want to draw attention to the fact that I haven’t been able to make my student loans magically disappear. My theory is that I am magical on a small scale.

The point–and there is one–is that six months ago I decided (again with the decisions) to simplify my life a bit, and that maybe suffocating under a pile of meaningless possessions wasn’t the way to go. Coincidentally, this is also the time we get rid of our cleaning service. Two weeks into putting things in their proper place on top of cleaning toilets and mopping floors I conclude, “This blows.”  I also conclude that the less clutter I have, the less I have to clean. I’m intrigued.

I turn to my lover, Google. I read well known blogs like mnmlist, Zen Habits and Unclutterer, and then move on to newer blogs like Becoming Minimalist. Finally, I bring on the big guns: books I own but have never read. Specifically, The Simple Living Guide by Janet Luhrs. A few months go by and I am actually doing a darn fine job at keeping the house clean without the threat of company coming. I decide that, yes, living simply is the way to go.

That’s when my magic kicked in. I swear, I can’t control it.

Abbey wrote about uncluttering in the spring. Amy Beth wrote about the Slow Home Movement over the summer around the time Lydia wondered how much is enough. I would link to many more bloggers but I’m sure you get the picture. I’m not alone and, if my magical powers are doing their job, you’ve been feeling the urge to simplify your life, too.

Because I don’t have enough uncluttering to do at my house, I volunteered to clear out and empty my parents’s storage unit once and for all. That’s where Japan Girl, the lovely lady at the top of this post, comes in. Her name is Japan Girl because that is where she was made. She has a friend I call Japan Girl Wearing a Red Kerchief. I have no idea where they came from. Maybe my grandmother? My mom says my grandmother bought them for me because she knew I collected dolls.

I’ve never collected dolls. Talky Tina made sure of that, thanks.

So Japan Girl and Japan Girl Wearing a Red Kerchief are off to the mother of all garages sales, along with a Sports Illustrated shoe phone, a step aerobics platform, clothing for an army of toddler boys, and a clock hat.

I can’t wait to show you the clock hat.

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S is for Shoes

September 7, 2010

in Endeavors

S is for Shoes

I took this picture not even thinking about the 30 pictures in 30 days. We bought Mikey a new dresser from the thrift store a couple of weeks ago and the original brass handles hadn’t been polished since the dresser left production in October of 1961. You don’t always need to polish brass, and there is a strong argument that says tarnished brass looks better than the original, but the gold accents on the dresser (you can see a bit of it on the leg) were crying out for companionship. I can’t wait to tell you how I did it.

My intent was to take pictures of his new dresser with the dirty handles. Instead, I saw his shoes on the ground, left there from when he slid them off his feet on Friday. I think I will forever be asking Mikey to put his shoes away. Nicholas does it without thinking, but Mikey? I could tell him three times in three minutes and his mind will already be on something else, task forgotten. This post is to mark that on September 5, 2010, I was happy Mikey didn’t put away his shoes.

They looked so little.

Mikey is growing by leaps and bounds. Not so much in size, but in personality and maturity. He is more introspective, more eager to grow up, and less willing to cry when he is hurt or upset. With a younger brother always at his side, it’s hard to remember that Mikey is still a child, too; that he doesn’t have it all figured out, despite his insane vocabulary and responsible nature. He still needs snuggles, he still needs guidance and help with tasks that seem so intuitive to me and, most important to remember, he will still occasionally spill his water at the dinner table (Three times. At a restaurant.) and that’s okay. (Most of the time.) As an oldest child myself, I know how it feels to be treated like the little helper while the younger ones, it seems, get off easy. When I was growing up, I vowed that I would never baby my youngest or demand more from my oldest. Fail.

I’m glad Mikey left out his shoes. In failing to put away his clothes, he succeeded in teaching me a valuable lesson.

I never did put away the shoes.

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W is for Worship

September 7, 2010

in Endeavors,Family

W is for Worship

Just over a week ago, when he would normally slip into his favorite chair to enjoy a game and a Bloody Mary, the father of a girl I once knew passed away from cancer. Before Sunday, I had not seen Jenny, the girl I once knew, in over 25 years, but since her father was a long-standing Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion (commonly known as a Eucharistic Minister) at our church, the priest said a few words in his honor after mass and her mother stood up to thank the parish for their prayers over the last nine months. She was there to support her mother and remember her father.

From the corner of my eye I could see The Mister quickly wipe away a few tears. I just sat there, steeling myself inch by inch so that by the time her mother finished speaking, I was a block of ice from heart to limbs. Sometimes, a lot of the times, I almost wish everyone I love would just die and get it over with. The pain of the anticipation of the pain will kill me long before anything happens to them.

I lay awake at night and worry about who might get sick or might get hurt. And then, because I am almost asleep and am perilously close to losing the ability to control my own thoughts, a flash: all of us in a horrible car crash; The Mister dying of a heart attack while we are sitting at the dinner table; a car barreling out of control while Mikey and Nico play in street. It’s always the same ending, even if the scenarios vary. The seat belts break apart in the crash; I can’t find the phone to call 911; I am too late to pull the boys out of the street.

As the endings play their familiar end, I shake my head, sometimes violently. If it’s an especially bad one, I’ll knock the heel of my hand against my head as if I can shake out the grit of my thoughts like an errant pebble in a shoe. Death is the control freak’s greatest nightmare because we have no way to predict or diminish our imminent agony.

I spent the weekend clearing out my parents’s storage unit. Piles and piles and piles of 70s and 80s memorabilia, most of it hilarious. At around box 7, I found pictures of me and my brothers when we were still kids. My parents, just ten years older than I am now, looked like children caring for infants. The outfits were priceless, and they had a good chuckle over them last night over dinner. Thankfully, the boys were able to recognize a few of me as a teenager because I can only take so much devastation in one weekend.

There were a few pictures of me in my prom dress. When my parents put their heads together to look at it more closely, I stared at them and tried my best to memorize every feature, every wrinkle, every hair on their heads. Then I steeled myself before the tears came on and gave a prayer of thanks that I have them both here with me.

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Souvenir Foto, Alphabet Edition

September 6, 2010 Endeavors

I’m doing the latest edition of Souvenir Foto, Tristan’s creative photography group over on Flickr. This time we are doing a photo a day that represents one letter in the alphabet, in any order we choose, for thirty days. Here is a brief course description: Each day you will choose ANY letter your heart desires, [...]

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Favorite Moment | The Cake Decorators

September 3, 2010 Favorite Moment

Favorite Moments are stories or images capturing a favorite moment during the week. Many more here.

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Ta Dah!

August 15, 2010 Endeavors

Nicole redesigned the blog for me.  If you are reading this vis RSS feed, you should click on over and check it out!  Or not.  You’ll see it eventually because, people, it’s not changing anytime soon.  It’s been a process. It’s not done, but we’re calling it super close to done.  There are a few [...]

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The Product of a Bad Economy

August 5, 2010 Endeavors

Mario Giacomazzi wasn’t always a Trader Joe’s checker.  He is older than most by around 30 years and whatever he did before checking my groceries, it required a back straight like a plank with pulled back shoulders to match.  The short gray hair so perfectly pomaded atop his utilitarian head is probably only a requirement [...]

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