Not Everyone Who is Wandering is Lost

I saw this today on a bumper sticker in the parking lot of Target (where many words of wisdom reside). That's me...wandering but never lost.

Put That Paint Roller Down and Back Away, or How Nine Rolls of Blue Tape Nearly Ruined My Marriage

We are moving soon. The packers have come and gone, taking with them all my efforts in organizing, cleaning and labeling, I say good riddance. I don't need half that stuff anyway. But, once the dust had cleared and pizza boxes had been hidden away, the real work began. My husband thought it might be a novel, and yes gallant, move to take a day off work and help me paint, can you hear my TMJ creaking? He started this project, like every project he starts, at seven a.m.-which is silly because nothing opens here until nine- then the by way over shopping; seven hundred feet of black plastic to cover the ten by ten room my daughter calls home, nine rolls of blue painters tape, I'll be using that for Christmas wrapping this year, four cans of paint, and we were set. Let's go. Half the day is gone, so let's get this thing going. The plastic had to be cut down, while my husband spent forty-five minutes looking for his "all-purpose tool" I found mine (a borrowed steak knife) and hacked that baby up. By the time he returned I had it taped down and I was shaking paint. He sighed very loudly and taped it down some more. Then he took the paint I'd been shaking for five minutes, shook it some more and poured the exact correct amount into the paint pan, it takes a practiced eye to perform this maneuver, evidently. He pulled a stool up to a wall, climbed up and proceeded to dictate his orders like a surgeon doing complicated and life saving work, first for tape (you can never use too much tape) then for roller, properly saturated, then for a paint brush for those tight places. Are you getting a migraine too? I was permitted to brush along the bottom and sides, so that he could roller in the middle, I was also given the very important chore of baseboards and window frames. I envisioned tipping him off that stool, rolling him up in that football field of black plastic and using a couple of rolls of nice blue painter's tape to seal him in, for freshness of course. I'd have had to roll him out to the curb, he'd make too much noise to stay in the house, but trash pick-up isn't until Monday, and surely he'd free himself by then. He has had survival training, after all, they had to have covered freeing yourself painting supplies at some point.

This House Is Alive

I am not a housekeeper. I consider why and come up with interesting excuses. The one that I believe sounds most lofty is that I don’t like to look for faults. Sometimes I pretend that it’s my decorating style aka A Pier 1 Has Exploded In A Big Lots. I have even been known to take on a warrior persona and wage organized combat on the situation with an Easter bucket on my head. Mostly I just give up. I am not particularly lazy, but I have to work to find joy in the constant housekeeping repetition - you have to keep doing things over and over and over. Yeck.

But then I think ..........

This home is full of life. Unlike some families I know who leave their house in the morning returning only for bedtime and a quick snack, we actually live here. It is our home, our school, our restaurant, our concert hall, our laundry mat, our conference room, our hotel, our research center, our jungle gym, our theatre, our mini storage facility, our art studio. And you can tell. It shows.

The spirit is represented in the faces of the people living here. The veins must be the endless webs of cords, connectors, and occupied electrical outlets. There is a well used water elimination system. Teenagers daily take the number of showers to equal their age: if you are 14 you need 14 showers. And don’t forget the laundry. The kitchen is the spine - sensitive, touching, central to it’s stance.

Before I meander into a rant here, let me express a bit of gratitude for this. I am thankful for each of these people that give life to this house, and I am thankful for this house, too. I want to enjoy this time while it lasts ... while everyone is living at home, while there is learning to take part in, while there are scuffles and snuffles and growing young people with appetites to match.

And that just took the wind right out of my rant. I realize I need to love this house like the other living creatures in my life - with caring, nurturing actions. How thought provoking ...

How long will it be, do you reckon, before this house starts taking its own showers?

I am all alone, I am...

I have the entire house to myself. My husband and son are off to see Valkyrie, which I hear is three hours long, I pray that's true. My daughter is visiting a friend for the day and I even put the cats out. I've locked the doors and drawn the blinds and am not answering the phone, so don't call me. So far I've watched an entire episode of Project Runway, all by myself. No one asked me why that guy has pink pokey hair or what the definition of militia is or where the AAA batteries are. Later I'm going read a book in the bath and leave the door unlocked and, maybe have a glass of wine; well I don't have any wine, but maybe a glass of cherry, berry, apple juice. But first, for lunch, I'm going to eat the entire one pound bar of Cadbury dark chocolate with hazlenut and drink an entire litre of coke. And in three hours, when everyone arrives home, it will be like it all never happened. They really do think I clean while they're away...

L,
Ed

Spring Cleaning

I do not know what's in that drawer
I never have been there before
And that box underneath my bed
Just knowing it's there fills me with dread
Yesterday, just after noon
I walked into my laundry room
There's cupboards there too high to reach
(Heaven knows what's underneath)
I looked until the stool I found
And gamely climbed up from the ground
I opened up those cabinet doors
Saw things I'd never seen before
Went further still, opened the next
I must admit that I was vexed
Twas obvious that some poor soul
Endeavored faithfully in the role
Of hiding away things we needed no more
Nobody wanted, no one adored
Worked hard to fit into that space
A cartop carrier, a violin case
Six chair covers, four beach towels
Riding gear, gardening trowels
Paint in cotten candy colors
Navy blue and I'm sure there were others
My enthuisiasm for the chore was gone
There was no reason to go on
With heavy heart my eyes did roam
From my perch, around my home
Spring will come again next year
I'll do it then, I will, I swear...

The Chaos Theory

I thrive on tidy chaos. The illusion of order is very important to me. I'm a habitual list maker, but I usually can't find the lists once they're prepared. I like a good schedule, a well made plan, traditons, and I like to check things off when they're complete, it makes me feel productive. However, I can't cope with uniformity, too many straight lines and polished surfaces give me vertigo and I have to lie down-which involves untucking the bed and then re-making it. I like things to be put away, but if you open a drawer or cupboard in my house you'll find a hodge-podge of items that may or may not be related in any way. I don't really mind the mess, I just don't want to see it. I make my bed every morning, but can't sleep at night until everything is untucked again. I don't iron. If a second run through the dryer doesn't make it presentable, it goes in the donation box, I don't need the aggravation. I dust once a week, on Saturday, unless I have something better to do, then it has to wait until the next Saturday. Saturdays are for cleaning, not Tuesdays and never Fridays, it's been a winning system for many years and is not to be tampered with. I almost always have books, Legos, game pieces, hair bows and/or art supplies scattered around my living room, but if you drop by most Sundays those items will be dust free and maybe even neatly piled on one side of the coffee table. At some point in my old age I expect to be color coordinated, I'll be bric-a-brac free and my kitchen sink will be shiny. My closets will contain only the outfits I can still fit into and will no longer be hiding all the hobbies I don't want. My towels will match my shower curtain and I'll own perfectly matched Yorkie Terriers. There will be a perfect polish on my dining room table and I'll know exactly where my purse is. A life with no clutter, what a sad thing indeed....

Peanut Butter Fudge & The Food Pyramid

Dear Sir or Madam:
Upon viewing the food pyramid I find no section assigned to Peanut Butter Fudge. I am sure this was an unintentional omission. It is difficult to decide which of the current groups Peanut Butter Fudge might be labeled. Since it contains proteins and healthy legumes one would think to count it among the Meat, Poultry, Fish, Dry Beans, and Nuts group, but I find that section a little too small to encourage the consumption of a healthy amount of Peanut Butter Fudge. Could you please dedicate a level on the food pyramid to Peanut Butter Fudge? A large section toward the wider end if you don't mind. Thank you.

Sincerely,
Rowena

December 26. .. The Peaceful Side of Christmas

December 26 is my favorite day of the year. Yesterday, Christmas Day, is over. I cooked everything I was supposed to cook. Made everything I was supposed to make. Mailed everything I was supposed to mail. Went every place I was supposed to go. Wrapped everything I was supposed to wrap. Saw everyone I was supposed to see. Opened everything I was supposed to open. And now I have landed, settled to earth like a snowflake from the wind tossed heights of holiday flurries. If Townsend, TN is the "Peaceful Side of the Smokies" then December 26 is definitely the peaceful side of Christmas. It is a lovely continuation of the holidays, a tradition worth keeping: a day of peace. And while I hope Christmas was wonderful, I wish you all a beautiful, peaceful December 26. I am certain you earned it.

Sacrificial Self-Preservation

I often describe myself as a stay-at-home, on-the-go homeschooling mom to three pretty terrific kids. This is our ninth year homeschooling. When acquaintances profess that they are impressed with this, I always warn them that there is nothing remotely impressive about it. I do it for self-preservation.

We almost joined a co-op at the beginning of this school year. It sounded so promising ... art classes, English classes, plays. Plus I really like the other moms and know many of the kids. Then they wanted me to teach a class. Fine. I could do that. But it didn’t stop there ... suddenly there were mom meetings, family meetings, cookouts, field trips, teacher meetings. Someone signed me up for the annual staff associative co-administrative ambassador coordinator wizard. (Yes, I warned them that I knew nothin' about birthin’ no darn annuals.) And then told me that in addition to this I would have to take part in fund raisers and volunteer as class “helper” for another class. There were even whispers of mandatory things. Mandatory?

Uhhhhhh, no thanks. I grabbed the oars and paddled our homeschool fannies right out of that little lagoon! I would've had to sacrifice my favorite homeschool value of simplicity to take part in that co-op.

Recently I was asked by another homeschool mom if I took part in many of the activities with the groups in this area. I answered honestly, "No. The main reason I homeschool is so I don't have to do stuff like that ... " She was relieved since she rather thought the same thing, and you can imagine that this was a big relief to me.

I have been through years in public schools, and while I am definitely not one of those homeschool nazi moms who thinks everyone should homeschool or that public schools are bad, I have experienced that run-ragged-ness brought on by parent groups and fund raisers and Fall Festivals, Winter Festivals, Spring Flings, dances, standardized tests, Field Days, teacher appreciation luncheons, etc. One year, I cried for a week after school was out because I was worn out ... and just think about my kids! And in the area I live in each of my kids would be in separate schools. So, I’d have to multiply the above list by three!

Nothing is simple in this world. I realize that. But shouldn’t it be? I admit that I homeschool for the simplicity of it. There is nothing heroic about it. It’s just plain old self-preservation.

Is there something wrong with me?

Thanksgiving Magic

The magic of Thanksgiving is an enigma even more mysterious than Santa, the tooth fairy or the Easter bunny. Most will blissfully wander through their entire lives in the dark, never giving thought to the who or the why of it, comfortable in the knowledge that it is dependable and everlasting. If you live to be one hundred, it will appear one hundred times. Oh, but for a privileged few of us, the brave and the strong, the magic is unveiled. If your reading this, you are probably one of the select. And you know, like I know...That at four o'clock on the fourth Thursday of November, after the parades and football games, after your friends and relatives have arrived, after a couple of glasses of wine, when the "others" wander into the dining room and settle in front of their plates... We know, that those seventeen dishes of scrumptious Thanksgiving fare, four desserts and homemade cornucopia didn't just appear out of thin air.