I'm a bit of a collector.
That's a euphemism.
I have a hard time throwing things away.
That's also a euphemism.
I'm a pack rat.
Phew.
It's good to hang your laundry out on the line, you know? Especially things that people close to you are already, like, more than aware of.
I feel like this probably isn't the first time I've mentioned this on my blog. But I'm revisiting this issue because it's my goal to get rid of one item a day for 40 days. See, I started this about a week ago... and I've done it twice so far. But. Both of those times there was a small pile of actually like 4 things. So I think I'm pretty much caught up.
In this book I'm reading, the author refers to something called "evil excess."
Yikes.
She's probably not referring to me, right? I'm, like, really nice.
But I think it's safe to say that's not the point.
Ryan and I tend to move a lot.
That's a euphemism.
We've moved 3 times since being married (for 3 and a half years). And we have recently discovered that we will be moving again this summer.
When you move, you get the distinct privilege of facing your stuff. It's awful. In those moments you think to yourself, seriously, we could survive just fine with two pairs of shoes, one blanket, and a frying pan.
But then you get settled into your life and you realize it's nice sometimes to have seven throw pillows, twelve picture frames, and three favorite pens all at your immediate disposal.
What I'm realizing, though, is that there are many items that are nice to have... but are they nice to move?
And, I believe more importantly, are they nice to think about?
And that is my issue. That is what I'm working to overcome here. I don't want to think about things we have and feel their excessiveness boring a hole into my conscience. I don't want to think about things we have and realize I'd feel guilty purchasing a more useful item because the drawer was already full of things I just didn't have the will to part with.
Mostly, I want to spend as little time as possible thinking about stuff management.
Because there are just so many other more wonderful - and dare I say, eternal - things to consider.
To be continued in a following edition...
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Falling Forward.
At first, I didn't want to move to a small town. I like the feeling of things "happening." I love to spend solitary time, but with the hum of activity just out the door and around the corner.
I think I've always been like that.
I remember loving when I could hear my parents' friends or small groups over when I was trying to fall asleep (or, more likely trying not to fall asleep).
I remember loving hearing the noise of traffic through my bedroom window.
I liked the glow of streetlights too, because that meant we were on a busy enough street to warrant those lights.
So when we decided to move to this small town, I was hesitant.
That now seems ridiculous.
The small town we're in is one of the most coveted places to live, no exaggeration, in Canada.
And I'm experiencing why every day.
The hum of activity is literally just out our door and around the corner. My walk with Huck this morning will serve as evidence of the sweeter-than-sweet life we are privileged to be living these days.
First, we stopped by the local church to drop off some unneeded clothing items in the big blue bin. I've noticed I'm more likely to do that when it's a 3-minute walk away than when the car becomes involved.
Second, we considered stopping at the local chocolate shop for a mocha. But when I realized it was only 11am I decided I should wait at least 1 hour before consuming my first chocolate for the day.
Third, we were magnetically pulled into the local antique store. More accurately, one of the local antique stores. There are 5 or 6. While inside, 2 small dogs ran half-way up my leg. It's okay, though - small town dogs are allowed in stores because they are innately friendly. Like the store owner, who oohed and aahed over Huck's eyelashes. We found a connection point by sharing in the common unfairness of a world where boys so often get nicer eyelashes than girls. Also, they were filming a movie in the back of her shop, so there was much to talk about.
Fourth, we stopped to get mail at the post office. Nothing with our name on it today, but there's something precious about needing to walk to get your mail. Sometimes I wish emails were a little less accessible like that. Don't you?
Between the fourth and the fifth thing, Huck and I turned to watch the train scratch its way noisily through town... as it does every 12 minutes or so. It seems like 12 minutes... And I promise that I'm only exaggerating by half an hour at the most.
Anyways, fifth, we stopped in to the local bakery, which was recently sold, closed, and reopened within 4 days. I am keenly hopeful that this new baker will have also gone to the school where they teach bakers how to fold dough into these beautiful, sugary pockets and stuff them with strawberries and rhubarb. We'll see.
Sixth, and finally, I peeked through the window at the "Growcer" to see if he was working today. He wasn't. But if he was, I was going to tell him that I saw a poster about a cat. He told me a few weeks ago that he lost his cat during a local festival, and he was very sad about it. While walking by the river a few days ago, I saw a poster: "Found Cat." I think he should know, just in case.
So, we returned back around the corner, and through the door.
I think I've always been like that.
I remember loving when I could hear my parents' friends or small groups over when I was trying to fall asleep (or, more likely trying not to fall asleep).
I remember loving hearing the noise of traffic through my bedroom window.
I liked the glow of streetlights too, because that meant we were on a busy enough street to warrant those lights.
So when we decided to move to this small town, I was hesitant.
That now seems ridiculous.
The small town we're in is one of the most coveted places to live, no exaggeration, in Canada.
And I'm experiencing why every day.
The hum of activity is literally just out our door and around the corner. My walk with Huck this morning will serve as evidence of the sweeter-than-sweet life we are privileged to be living these days.
First, we stopped by the local church to drop off some unneeded clothing items in the big blue bin. I've noticed I'm more likely to do that when it's a 3-minute walk away than when the car becomes involved.
Second, we considered stopping at the local chocolate shop for a mocha. But when I realized it was only 11am I decided I should wait at least 1 hour before consuming my first chocolate for the day.
Third, we were magnetically pulled into the local antique store. More accurately, one of the local antique stores. There are 5 or 6. While inside, 2 small dogs ran half-way up my leg. It's okay, though - small town dogs are allowed in stores because they are innately friendly. Like the store owner, who oohed and aahed over Huck's eyelashes. We found a connection point by sharing in the common unfairness of a world where boys so often get nicer eyelashes than girls. Also, they were filming a movie in the back of her shop, so there was much to talk about.
Fourth, we stopped to get mail at the post office. Nothing with our name on it today, but there's something precious about needing to walk to get your mail. Sometimes I wish emails were a little less accessible like that. Don't you?
Between the fourth and the fifth thing, Huck and I turned to watch the train scratch its way noisily through town... as it does every 12 minutes or so. It seems like 12 minutes... And I promise that I'm only exaggerating by half an hour at the most.
Anyways, fifth, we stopped in to the local bakery, which was recently sold, closed, and reopened within 4 days. I am keenly hopeful that this new baker will have also gone to the school where they teach bakers how to fold dough into these beautiful, sugary pockets and stuff them with strawberries and rhubarb. We'll see.
Sixth, and finally, I peeked through the window at the "Growcer" to see if he was working today. He wasn't. But if he was, I was going to tell him that I saw a poster about a cat. He told me a few weeks ago that he lost his cat during a local festival, and he was very sad about it. While walking by the river a few days ago, I saw a poster: "Found Cat." I think he should know, just in case.
So, we returned back around the corner, and through the door.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Piles Schmiles.
It's 1pm.
The kitchen is dirty.
The recycling needs to go out.
There are two wet diapers lying around somewhere that need to be chucked in the bin.
There is a basket full of laundry waiting to be folded.
Our toilet has one of those "clean-me" rings accumulating (sorry, gross).
I have at least 5 emails I "should" respond to.
I have one large administrative task to complete.
And, I just received the last of seven daily reminders in my phone to order Huck's passport.
But you know what I'm doing right now?
I'm sitting on my bed.
I'm in my pyjamas.
I have headphones over my ears... {which I just realized are playing absolutely nothing}.
And I'm blogging.
Ryan told me to.
Sometimes you need that, you know? Someone to tell you to be a little less self-sufficient. Someone to tell you that you're perspective is becoming skewed. Someone to load up the dishwasher in front of you when your eyes are glazing over. Someone to give you a hug before they leave for their third of four rounds of work for the day.
When you find someone like that, you should probably marry them.
Or, thank them for being your mom.
The kitchen is dirty.
The recycling needs to go out.
There are two wet diapers lying around somewhere that need to be chucked in the bin.
There is a basket full of laundry waiting to be folded.
Our toilet has one of those "clean-me" rings accumulating (sorry, gross).
I have at least 5 emails I "should" respond to.
I have one large administrative task to complete.
And, I just received the last of seven daily reminders in my phone to order Huck's passport.
But you know what I'm doing right now?
I'm sitting on my bed.
I'm in my pyjamas.
I have headphones over my ears... {which I just realized are playing absolutely nothing}.
And I'm blogging.
Ryan told me to.
Sometimes you need that, you know? Someone to tell you to be a little less self-sufficient. Someone to tell you that you're perspective is becoming skewed. Someone to load up the dishwasher in front of you when your eyes are glazing over. Someone to give you a hug before they leave for their third of four rounds of work for the day.
When you find someone like that, you should probably marry them.
Or, thank them for being your mom.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
A Slippery Slope.
I have a tendency to be overly ambitious.
I don't mean like I want to be a medical doctor and get a PhD in English Literature and fly to the moon before I'm 38.
I mean, when I have 45 minutes "free," I want to accomplish approximately thirteen things.
A few days ago, I had about a 45 minute Huck-will-be-happy window to do a big Superstore shop. My goal was, surprisingly, straightforward:
Just get everything on the shopping list.
So.
I would say that I flew around the store, collecting my items in the efficient style of an experienced shopper. I felt like I was doing that, but I'm self-aware that I'm not the world's fastest shopper.
Let's compare it more to a methodical jog than to a 100-meter sprint.
However, I was focused, determined, and honestly very proud of myself on this particular trip. I had read in a book the day before that one "Mama time-saver tip" is to stock up on those things you always end up needing at some point rather than waiting until they run out. So I found sales on my favourite shampoo, a high-quality body wash, top-notch coffee, creamy smooth yogurt... I mean, I was really winning this particular day.
I found gifts for people on my list.
I pre-ordered and therefore efficiently picked up medications.
I comparison shopped for inexpensive yet quality baby cereal.
And, I bought spinach, which made me feel like a very healthy and therefore comparatively better person.
There was icing on this cake: I found the shortest line and I snagged it.
Around this self-satisfied time, as I unburdened my items onto the conveyer belt, a thought occurred to me. This thought was the equivalent to "Oh, crap."
One stinkin' item on my list couldn't be checked off: A little tube of diaper-bag-sized Vaseline.
A quick internal debate led me to the conclusion that to give up my spot in this high-quality line would be worse (although barely so) than leaving that one thing undone. This almost killed me, you know? I had worked so hard. I had been so proactive in my shopping. Huck had been so cooperative.
But I could not, could not, leave my place in line.
So, if you don't know, Superstore has this thing where they give you a prize if you spend, like, 12% of your yearly income in one shopping trip.
Last time, I got a huge box of little chocolates. (Subconsciously why I was buying spinach on this particular trip).
This time, the cashier mentioned some gift box. I almost rolled my eyes. Thanks, Superstore, for taking, like, 12% of our money, then slamming us with a package of something you were unable to sell because nobody needs 14 different lotions in one big un-biodegradable package.
Anyways.
I don't know how else to end this story.
Except to tell you that in the front window of the un-biodegradable gift box of 12 lotions....
There was a little tube of diaper-bag-sized Vaseline.
I don't mean like I want to be a medical doctor and get a PhD in English Literature and fly to the moon before I'm 38.
I mean, when I have 45 minutes "free," I want to accomplish approximately thirteen things.
A few days ago, I had about a 45 minute Huck-will-be-happy window to do a big Superstore shop. My goal was, surprisingly, straightforward:
Just get everything on the shopping list.
So.
I would say that I flew around the store, collecting my items in the efficient style of an experienced shopper. I felt like I was doing that, but I'm self-aware that I'm not the world's fastest shopper.
Let's compare it more to a methodical jog than to a 100-meter sprint.
However, I was focused, determined, and honestly very proud of myself on this particular trip. I had read in a book the day before that one "Mama time-saver tip" is to stock up on those things you always end up needing at some point rather than waiting until they run out. So I found sales on my favourite shampoo, a high-quality body wash, top-notch coffee, creamy smooth yogurt... I mean, I was really winning this particular day.
I found gifts for people on my list.
I pre-ordered and therefore efficiently picked up medications.
I comparison shopped for inexpensive yet quality baby cereal.
And, I bought spinach, which made me feel like a very healthy and therefore comparatively better person.
There was icing on this cake: I found the shortest line and I snagged it.
Around this self-satisfied time, as I unburdened my items onto the conveyer belt, a thought occurred to me. This thought was the equivalent to "Oh, crap."
One stinkin' item on my list couldn't be checked off: A little tube of diaper-bag-sized Vaseline.
A quick internal debate led me to the conclusion that to give up my spot in this high-quality line would be worse (although barely so) than leaving that one thing undone. This almost killed me, you know? I had worked so hard. I had been so proactive in my shopping. Huck had been so cooperative.
But I could not, could not, leave my place in line.
So, if you don't know, Superstore has this thing where they give you a prize if you spend, like, 12% of your yearly income in one shopping trip.
Last time, I got a huge box of little chocolates. (Subconsciously why I was buying spinach on this particular trip).
This time, the cashier mentioned some gift box. I almost rolled my eyes. Thanks, Superstore, for taking, like, 12% of our money, then slamming us with a package of something you were unable to sell because nobody needs 14 different lotions in one big un-biodegradable package.
Anyways.
I don't know how else to end this story.
Except to tell you that in the front window of the un-biodegradable gift box of 12 lotions....
There was a little tube of diaper-bag-sized Vaseline.
Monday, July 16, 2012
E-Pens & Faucets.
If there were little things to write about before… they now
overwhelm me.
A literal flood.
Of emotions, awareness, thankfulness, neediness,
desperation,… diapers.
8 weeks ago today, we welcomed little Huck.
{He has another first and middle name… but for the
blog-world, he’s our Huck}.
And since then, the e-pen has been set to the side as I’m
learn to navigate the ins and outs of this little guy.
Anyways, 8 weeks later, still learning.
As expected.
As is par for the course we’re now on.
And 8 weeks later, I’m ready to pick up the e-pen and return
to the place where I find some refreshment: writing.
My plan is not
that these e-pages will now be filled only with mom-stuff. So please keep
reading, regardless of your life-stage or gender. Huck’s name is bound to
appear often; otherwise you’d wonder what I’m really doing all day. And all night, for that matter.
But these pages are also one of my treasure chests - a place
for reflection on the quirky little things all around, as I started blogging to
remember in the first place.
So…
For today, one little thing I learned in the bathroom last
week.
Our bathroom has become a place of refuge.
I don’t mean for Ryan or for me.
For Huck.
It’s the one room in our apartment with no windows. The one
room with two sources of running
water.
So, when the deep crying begins, we swaddle, and we head
into the dark, 30 foot square (if that, including the tub) abyss to comfort the
little guy.
I’ve discovered that while the bouncing, swaddling, water-running
darkness sets a good stage for eventual sleep, little Huck needs one more thing
to send him into a dreamy place:
Singing.
I’m happy to oblige. We all sound better in the shower
anyways, everyone knows that.
But here’s the little thing I’m learning:
Make sure you have a good array of mutually enriching songs
available at a moment’s notice in your mental repertoire. Because when you’re
desperate enough, you will sing whatever is nearest at hand.
The first day I discovered Huck liked the singing, I was a little
too frazzled to pull out the meaningful Gospel songs I’ve retained over the
years, or romantic soothing ballads, or childish lullabies.
Rather, I found myself with only three words: “To the left,
to the left…”
Ah, Huck…
You’re Irreplaceable.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Anchors & Pears.
Some people like to do things every day to mix up their routine. They call it "refreshing," "revitalizing," "energizing"...
I call it terrifying.
Why would I want to interfere with a wonderful routine that I've crafted to aid me in the carrying-out of each day with clock-work rhythm?
Exhibit A:
I love to eat the same breakfast every weekday. Every single weekday.
I begin by walking directly from bed to the stove to get the eggs boiling. And to pour myself a cup of cold Brita water.
Then I go back to the washroom to, you know, relieve myself.
Then I go back to the kitchen to make coffee. To pour into my favourite cup eventually.
Then I put the bread in the toaster oven.
Then I put away the clean dishes from the night before.
Then I....
You're getting bored.
You see, while you're getting bored, I'm getting relaxed... ah, yes, this - this routine - is a terribly relaxing start to my day.
Imagine how a person who loves those little routines feels about the News I watch while I eat my favoured breakfast. I am calmed by my daily greeting of the same CBC anchors (now that I know which days to expect whom). Do you find you get attached to your news anchors at all? Fascinated by the job they perform each morning?
Yeah, me neither.
Anyways, routine. Love it, thrive on it, appreciate it.
Another self-observation (since today's post is, as usual, all about me).
Exhibit B:
These are the stairs I climb to my tutoring-that's-not-tutoring-but-more-like-teaching job twice a week. Every time I'm walking up those stairs I feel like I don't really want to be going to work right now. I'd rather be outside, or at home, or.... who really knows where. I've just sort of got into this routine of thinking that I'd rather be somewhere else.
Once I get to the top of those stairs and turn right, I always tell myself all the way down that hallway, "Be thankful, Deb; be thankful, Deb..."
And then I walk in.
And then I'm totally fine.
And without fail, when I'm walking back down those same stairs a couple hours later, I'm always thinking how that went by so fast and how I genuinely enjoyed it.
I suppose you could call that my thinking routine.
This next and final exhibit is an aspect of my routine that I would like to change.
Exhibit C:
Do any of you have one of these? That cupboard that you open with your eyes closed while you cringe and try to think happy thoughts about something else because you feel guilty about the disorganization hiding behind the doors?
This is clearly one of those cupboards. Every time I need to find a spice in one of those dreadful yellow (although inexpensive!) bags, it's always on the bottom of the pile. Always. And so I go through these 2 minutes of self-loathing while I get what I need and try to avoid planning for the day where I will take the time to figure out a system for that thing. That horrid, looming thing.
So. Somewhere in my routine I need to build in the "one-times." Those times where you step out-of-system in order to fix or prepare something that will help you to operate more smoothly and efficiently in-system.
By the way, while I'm on the topic of guilt, I suppose I should confess that I only put the pear in my breakfast picture to make it look like I start my day off with a piece of fruit.
I don't.
I call it terrifying.
Why would I want to interfere with a wonderful routine that I've crafted to aid me in the carrying-out of each day with clock-work rhythm?
Exhibit A:
I love to eat the same breakfast every weekday. Every single weekday.
I begin by walking directly from bed to the stove to get the eggs boiling. And to pour myself a cup of cold Brita water.
Then I go back to the washroom to, you know, relieve myself.
Then I go back to the kitchen to make coffee. To pour into my favourite cup eventually.
Then I put the bread in the toaster oven.
Then I put away the clean dishes from the night before.
Then I....
You're getting bored.
You see, while you're getting bored, I'm getting relaxed... ah, yes, this - this routine - is a terribly relaxing start to my day.
Imagine how a person who loves those little routines feels about the News I watch while I eat my favoured breakfast. I am calmed by my daily greeting of the same CBC anchors (now that I know which days to expect whom). Do you find you get attached to your news anchors at all? Fascinated by the job they perform each morning?
Yeah, me neither.
Anyways, routine. Love it, thrive on it, appreciate it.
Another self-observation (since today's post is, as usual, all about me).
Exhibit B:
These are the stairs I climb to my tutoring-that's-not-tutoring-but-more-like-teaching job twice a week. Every time I'm walking up those stairs I feel like I don't really want to be going to work right now. I'd rather be outside, or at home, or.... who really knows where. I've just sort of got into this routine of thinking that I'd rather be somewhere else.
Once I get to the top of those stairs and turn right, I always tell myself all the way down that hallway, "Be thankful, Deb; be thankful, Deb..."
And then I walk in.
And then I'm totally fine.
And without fail, when I'm walking back down those same stairs a couple hours later, I'm always thinking how that went by so fast and how I genuinely enjoyed it.
I suppose you could call that my thinking routine.
This next and final exhibit is an aspect of my routine that I would like to change.
Exhibit C:
Do any of you have one of these? That cupboard that you open with your eyes closed while you cringe and try to think happy thoughts about something else because you feel guilty about the disorganization hiding behind the doors?
This is clearly one of those cupboards. Every time I need to find a spice in one of those dreadful yellow (although inexpensive!) bags, it's always on the bottom of the pile. Always. And so I go through these 2 minutes of self-loathing while I get what I need and try to avoid planning for the day where I will take the time to figure out a system for that thing. That horrid, looming thing.
So. Somewhere in my routine I need to build in the "one-times." Those times where you step out-of-system in order to fix or prepare something that will help you to operate more smoothly and efficiently in-system.
By the way, while I'm on the topic of guilt, I suppose I should confess that I only put the pear in my breakfast picture to make it look like I start my day off with a piece of fruit.
I don't.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Pockets & Shins.
I'm a little gloomy today.
You can see why, right?
I won't further explain why the sloppy, dull-grey, reminds-me-of-crying mess I see to my left is not positive energy-inducing. Because you get it.
Instead, I will share some exciting news that I think may change my life.
Well, my blogging life.
This is 2 people on a sunny day not very long ago who were privileged enough to have their phone contract expire... so that they could get iPhones at a very good price!
Which means this...
{that's a cloudless day for those of you who, like myself, have forgotten that those exist... even though it was yesterday}
And this...
{that's one of the areas where I walk... because I'm a walker now that I'm a front-end loader}
And this...
{that's a gate}
... are possible now because I have a camera I can carry in my pocket!
I'm hoping that this changes my life by helping me to keep my eyes open.
(Less bruised shins that way, for one).
I don't want to become a photographer.
(I already want to be a teacher, a mother, a crafter, a craft-school teacher, a writer, and a few other things I've thought of this week).
I don't want to become someone who's perpetually glued to their pocket-electronic.
(I won't. I'll probably forget how much I can do on there. So, still talk to me in person. Or send me a postcard).
What I do want is to be cool.
(So, now I am).
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