January 31, 2008
Okay, anyone who knows me well, or ever has, knows of my adoration of language and deep appreciation for the power of words. Well today I was blessed with a newfound sense of appreciation for the letter S. Specifically when placed in the middle of the word cleaning. Ooh ooh! Break it down! clean sing Yay for that. Anyway...
I am working on a project in the basement of our house. This room has served many purposes over the 20 years or so Paul and his dad have lived in this house. For a long time it was Paul's bedroom, it's also been rec room, band practice room, party room. It was once our bedroom, Paul's and mine. The dogs slept down here too since they can't be trusted to run around the house at night without making various types of messes - plants, food, bathroom, etc. When Paul's brother moved in with his dog about six years ago, said brother's dog started a marking contest with our, then two, male collies. Since then, and still after brother and dog moved out, our dogs never got over themselves, even after one was neutered, so they were relegated to the basement full-time. Now don't freak out if you're an animal lover; they have plenty of room down here and a big yard to go out into, they're well fed, we spend lots of time with them, it's just been their room. I mean, how many dogs do you know with their own 15 x 23 bedroom?
We moved out of the basement when Gabriel was a baby because the dust and dander and dryness during the winter was too much and I couldn't listen to him rasp during the night anymore, so we moved upstairs. (It's a tri-level.) Since that time the basement has basically been home to the dogs, the massive waterbed, my PartyLite office/storage facility, and a dumping ground for accumulated junk.
So anyway, we've (I've) decided to move our bedroom back down here. After 4 years of storage and dogs it was pretty messy. No, it was filthy. Interesting difference between messy and filthy, isn't it? Ah words... So, I've been cleaning in preparation for moving back in. Steph has been over a few times to help or at least keep me company and she can tell you that the change has been dramatic. Just getting all the PartyLite stuff sorted has been a major undertaking. Three years of doing anything will rack up quite a bit of "stuff" to be dealt with when it's done. Wow. Ponder that sentence for a minute...
Well, I've been working on this project for over a week. A couple days ago I remembered a book I had on my shelf from a long time ago called Creating Sacred Space With Feng Shui by Karen Kingston. I knew it had a bagua in it and wanted to check it out again, which is why I got the book off the shelf, but of course I want the bedroom I share with my husband to be nothing less than a sacred space.
I've learned a lot in various venues over the past few years about the effects clutter can have on a person's life and Kingston talks quite a bit about space clearing in the book which was a good reminder for me. Tuesday was trash night and in addition to the large bag from the kitchen there were five bags of "stuff" from the basement. See, I've been clearing while I've been cleaning. Clearing out the past and the clutter and the trash and various things I've been holding onto for no good reason for I don't know how long. No matter how many times in my life I take on a clearing project, it never ceases to amaze me how good and freeing it feels to let go of "stuff."
My plan for the room involves moving the office back up to the second floor and rearranging the furniture down here. Remember the massive waterbed I mentioned? I'm not exaggerating. It's a king-size, underdrawer-pedestal, mirrored-lighted-bookcase-headboard, full-mirrored-canopy waterbed frame. The thing has to be completely disassembled to move an inch whether there's water in it or not. The mattress had been leaking a bit in a couple spots and we have a soft-side water mattress upstairs to replace it, so it was a good opportunity to move it, otherwise my precious husband probably would have strangled me for ever suggesting it. So I drained the bed, cleaned out the crap that had slipped down between the mattress and frame (ew) and cleared off the headboard. Then I had to take down the mirrors. They're plastic and lightweight, but they were coated with nast. Really, that's the only word for it. Nast. Icky, furry, cobwebby dirt on the top of the mirrors and framework and all the stuff Paul had stuck up there - old newspapers, aquarium bulbs, miscellaneous keepsakes. *shudder* I don't have OCD or anything, but I really don't like dirt. I've been "ick"ing the whole time I've been working on this whole undertaking because of the way it makes my hands feel. I may have to consider stock in Curel lotion. Regardless, with Paul's help, the bed has been completely disassembled and I wiped down each piece with a damp rag as it came off. Yay!
Yeah, so, I've been doing a lot of cleaning. Today I was on my hands and knees cleaning the floor where the bed used to be when it hit me... the S thing... Such a little thing. Today, I filled a bucket with warm water and Murphy's and wiped down the west wall. I moved the nightstand back out of the corner where I had wanted it placed and scrubbed out the dirt that had accumulated where the floor and walls meet. I got down on my hands and knees and wiped down the baseboard and heat register. I used a piece of broken drumstick or something I found under the register and cleaned out under the fins of the register. I must have found ten bucks in mostly dimes and pennies under there. And then, on my hands and knees, with a rag, I started cleaning the floor one square tile at a time. And it occurred to me. This whole thing has been a cleansing process. I've been purging what was old and no longer needed - trash, old papers, things, clothes, even memories. I've been condensing what must be kept - objects of use, objects of value, precious things that we look at and remember why we are who we are. And now I'm on to cleansing. I'm lovingly, carefully wiping away the yucky stuff that has clung to bed, the walls, the floor... and really to our lives.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
The three year test drive
When my husband and I met, we'd both been through our share of relationships and heartbreak. I had a daughter who was three years old at the time from a previous marriage. He was still healing from the break up of a nearly four year relationship which ended months prior to our meeting. We had both learned from personal experience, as well as observing friends, that there seems to be a "make it or break it" point in most relationships around the three year mark. He had come to call it, and I have since adopted the term, the "three year test drive."
I have since developed a theory with regard to this phenomenon. The following things are general examples of things I personally have seen, heard, or experienced. They do not apply to every relationship, nor is it an all-encompassing list.
New relationship, year one: You've met someone new! Your heart goes pitter-pat. This person is all that and a bag of chips, the whole enchilada, everything you've ever wanted in a mate, and some things you didn't even realize you were looking for. Sure, they have their quirks, but it's endearing. You're falling in love. You want to spend every available waking minute with this person to find out everything you possibly can about them. It's bliss. And finally you come to that all important benchmark, your First Anniversary. You celebrate, and life goes on.
Same relationship, year two: You've entered the comfort zone. You've now spent four seasons with this person. You've probably met at least part of each other's families, spent a holiday or two together, seen them at their best, and maybe helped them through a rough patch. You're starting to notice little things here and there, that you may have overlooked at first, but everyone has their faults, nobody is perfect, and you can live with the occasional idiosyncracy. You are also letting your guard down and becoming more relaxed around this person. You probably don't clean your house obsessively before they come over. You may have revealed some of your less than wonderful habits - leaving the cap off the toothpaste, leaving the light on in the kitchen, leaving your socks on the floor, sleeping with the television on. But people can change. These are things each of you can live with... for now. After all, you've been with each other for two years. Relationships take work.
Year three: You've let your guard down. You pass gas in front of each other. You're honest enough to let each other know how you really feel about their best friend/mom/brother/child(ren). You've found you disagree on some aspect of politics or religion. Or you don't disagree on anything, and conversation has become routine. You want kids, they don't, or vice versa. They've always dreamed of a traditional church wedding with 200 guests, you're not even sure about marriage. Or you've already gotten married or moved in together and now you find you've asked them to not leave that light on or turn off the television for the 300th time and here you are turning it off again. They've asked you to pick up your socks and put your plate in the dishwasher for the 300th time and you still don't understand why it's such a big deal. One of you is always fashionably late, the other is always 15 minutes early. You come to realize there's only so much you can live with.
Basically, at this point, you decide one of two things. That you love this person in spite of all their faults, and they feel the same way about you, and you know you will spend the rest of your lives together not out of obligation, but because you can't imagine anyone taking their place. Or, you can't stand the idea of another Christmas with this person's family and they've already started staying later at work or spending another night a week at the bar. Make it or break it.
We made it. We are better than ever. Almost ten years later, and after five years of marriage, I thank God.
I have since developed a theory with regard to this phenomenon. The following things are general examples of things I personally have seen, heard, or experienced. They do not apply to every relationship, nor is it an all-encompassing list.
New relationship, year one: You've met someone new! Your heart goes pitter-pat. This person is all that and a bag of chips, the whole enchilada, everything you've ever wanted in a mate, and some things you didn't even realize you were looking for. Sure, they have their quirks, but it's endearing. You're falling in love. You want to spend every available waking minute with this person to find out everything you possibly can about them. It's bliss. And finally you come to that all important benchmark, your First Anniversary. You celebrate, and life goes on.
Same relationship, year two: You've entered the comfort zone. You've now spent four seasons with this person. You've probably met at least part of each other's families, spent a holiday or two together, seen them at their best, and maybe helped them through a rough patch. You're starting to notice little things here and there, that you may have overlooked at first, but everyone has their faults, nobody is perfect, and you can live with the occasional idiosyncracy. You are also letting your guard down and becoming more relaxed around this person. You probably don't clean your house obsessively before they come over. You may have revealed some of your less than wonderful habits - leaving the cap off the toothpaste, leaving the light on in the kitchen, leaving your socks on the floor, sleeping with the television on. But people can change. These are things each of you can live with... for now. After all, you've been with each other for two years. Relationships take work.
Year three: You've let your guard down. You pass gas in front of each other. You're honest enough to let each other know how you really feel about their best friend/mom/brother/child(ren). You've found you disagree on some aspect of politics or religion. Or you don't disagree on anything, and conversation has become routine. You want kids, they don't, or vice versa. They've always dreamed of a traditional church wedding with 200 guests, you're not even sure about marriage. Or you've already gotten married or moved in together and now you find you've asked them to not leave that light on or turn off the television for the 300th time and here you are turning it off again. They've asked you to pick up your socks and put your plate in the dishwasher for the 300th time and you still don't understand why it's such a big deal. One of you is always fashionably late, the other is always 15 minutes early. You come to realize there's only so much you can live with.
Basically, at this point, you decide one of two things. That you love this person in spite of all their faults, and they feel the same way about you, and you know you will spend the rest of your lives together not out of obligation, but because you can't imagine anyone taking their place. Or, you can't stand the idea of another Christmas with this person's family and they've already started staying later at work or spending another night a week at the bar. Make it or break it.
We made it. We are better than ever. Almost ten years later, and after five years of marriage, I thank God.
Moving me down the highway
Interesting how one's perspective on the most mundane things can change depending on the circumstances or their experience.
I drive a 1983 Volvo 240 Sedan. It defines P.O.S. The clearcoat is patchy, the maroon paint is faded down to white on the roof and hood. It has a rather gory battle scar on it's left quarter. It even sounds old and crotchety due to a broken exhaust pipe, not unlike a small aircraft. I have to turn up the radio to nearly full volume to hear it over the engine and my kids and I have to yell at each other to hear conversation. It's a manual transmission and missing an engine mount, so it lurches every time I change gears. I love the damned thing. I want a new one, but I love it.
My previous car was a 1992 Toyota Camry, V6 XLE, fully loaded, great stereo, sunroof, power everything. She was by no means perfect, but I loved her too. She was powerful, fast, comfortable, stylish--by comparison, far superior to my father-in-law's newer Camry, which was a base four cylinder. On the rare occasions that I had to use his for any reason when I still owned my V6, I would turn up my nose at its lack of power and grumble about the whininess of its engine. Bah!
Unfortunately, my mother-in-law totaled my beloved Toyota, so it is now probably scrap metal somewhere in Georgia. It had gotten battered over time by wounds inflicted by others--a car door (opened while I was passing), a projectile (16 oz. glass soda bottle thrown at my windshield while someone else was passing) and falling objects (four inch diameter tree on rear quarter). Until its last day, that car had more happen to it while parked than while driving.
Alright, so today I had to run an errand and borrowed my father-in-law's Camry. Aside from the learning curve that has to be reestablished everytime I get into a vehicle with an automatic transmission, i.e. no left foot or right hand action required, I was surprised by how the damned thing felt! It was smooth! It was powerful! I wanted it! Okay, maybe not it, but something like it...
Am I being unfaithful to my trusty beast? No. I still love it, and I'm not giving it up just yet. It needs some work, that's for sure, but it's a Volvo and with the proper respect, it'll run forever and keep me safer than most other cars on the road. I'm not sure who said it, but I love the quote, "If the grass looks greener on the other side of the fence, it's time to start watering your own."
Yes, of course, life is all about comparisons. Grass being greener, elusive ends of rainbows, 42. Contentment and gratitude are key, because when you love what you have, you can appreciate rather than covet that which you don't.
I drive a 1983 Volvo 240 Sedan. It defines P.O.S. The clearcoat is patchy, the maroon paint is faded down to white on the roof and hood. It has a rather gory battle scar on it's left quarter. It even sounds old and crotchety due to a broken exhaust pipe, not unlike a small aircraft. I have to turn up the radio to nearly full volume to hear it over the engine and my kids and I have to yell at each other to hear conversation. It's a manual transmission and missing an engine mount, so it lurches every time I change gears. I love the damned thing. I want a new one, but I love it.
My previous car was a 1992 Toyota Camry, V6 XLE, fully loaded, great stereo, sunroof, power everything. She was by no means perfect, but I loved her too. She was powerful, fast, comfortable, stylish--by comparison, far superior to my father-in-law's newer Camry, which was a base four cylinder. On the rare occasions that I had to use his for any reason when I still owned my V6, I would turn up my nose at its lack of power and grumble about the whininess of its engine. Bah!
Unfortunately, my mother-in-law totaled my beloved Toyota, so it is now probably scrap metal somewhere in Georgia. It had gotten battered over time by wounds inflicted by others--a car door (opened while I was passing), a projectile (16 oz. glass soda bottle thrown at my windshield while someone else was passing) and falling objects (four inch diameter tree on rear quarter). Until its last day, that car had more happen to it while parked than while driving.
Alright, so today I had to run an errand and borrowed my father-in-law's Camry. Aside from the learning curve that has to be reestablished everytime I get into a vehicle with an automatic transmission, i.e. no left foot or right hand action required, I was surprised by how the damned thing felt! It was smooth! It was powerful! I wanted it! Okay, maybe not it, but something like it...
Am I being unfaithful to my trusty beast? No. I still love it, and I'm not giving it up just yet. It needs some work, that's for sure, but it's a Volvo and with the proper respect, it'll run forever and keep me safer than most other cars on the road. I'm not sure who said it, but I love the quote, "If the grass looks greener on the other side of the fence, it's time to start watering your own."
Yes, of course, life is all about comparisons. Grass being greener, elusive ends of rainbows, 42. Contentment and gratitude are key, because when you love what you have, you can appreciate rather than covet that which you don't.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Screw this Cash for "Clunkers" CRAP
Aside from hurting the average consumer who is not in the position to purchase a new car, as [my friend] Jon said [in his response to a question on facebook about this article http://www.rasmussenreports.com/public_content/political_commentary/commentary_by_lawrence_kudlow/vote_for_the_clunkers], the mere act of rendering useless a perfectly good used car, not even offering it as a used auto or scrapping it out for parts in the aftermarket repair industry, or even usable domestic scrap metal, but instead shredding it and shipping the metal overseas for processing into who knows what, that we will in turn eventually be buying from China, further stimulating THEIR economy, NOT OUR OWN, is not only shortsighted, but horribly wasteful, irresponsible and harmful to not only the environment, but what little manufacturing and service economy we have left in this country and I for one find it disgusting.
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