WinnowingWoman's Weekend Wrap-up

I tend to shy away from bullet-point posts, but sometimes it just shouldn't take thirty-two bazillion words to say what needs to be said. Hmm, word winnowing, perhaps?

Here's a recap of this week's efforts around Quaint Cottage and among our FabFive...

-Laundry has seen a major transformation around here since "the system" sort of rose like a phoenix from the ashes of stinky clothes (ashes might've been all that was left if some sort of order hadn't been found). It's not completely caught up because I still haven't convinced anyone to go around au naturale as to prevent further laundry buildup (Little Big Man is the closest to being on board with this idea), but I am consistent everyday with washing, drying, AND folding. Hurrah! And I don't hate it.

-I started the winnowing process full-throttle in the kitchen. What an undertaking. I am taking pictures each step of the way and will get them up here this coming week. I'm never surprised but always thrilled to experience the catharsis of ridding my world of unused, underused, and superfluous stuffs, and doing this within the kitchen has been a whammy of a job. Details are on the way...

-Ma Luffin' Mayun made our first recycling drop today, dumping our collection of paper and plastic. Nice. We certainly haven't mastered the task of recycling, but we have gone from a household that recycled nothing to sending two huge plastic containers of recyclables, reducing our bags of trash and wastefulness. And, as usual, kitchen scraps are feeding the compost pile that will hopefully feed future garden beds.

-Cloth diapering is everything I thought it would be (including the poo). I love it (insert eye-rolling, sneering, and smirking here, possible nay-sayers). This week's development can be described in two words: Bosak's Buttsacks. People, this development is a thing of beauty and deserves it's own post this week. Too, too awesome!

-In the age-old tradition of saving the best for last, I am pleased to report I am no longer blogging from a Blackberry Curve (it's nothing personal, Blackberry. I just realized you're really not my type). Instead, I am pleased as punch to report that I am typing this on a brand-spanking-new HP Mini netbook which, after the mail-in rebate, set us back a whopping $100.00. In addition, I fired my cellphone carrier, got a wireless 5GB/month data plan for $50.00 LESS per month than I was paying for my Blackberry, got a new, no-contract cell plan with unlimited talk-text-web, and fired my home phone company. So the combination of all these changes take us from being a family with no internet access, over-priced cell service, and a landline we rarely used to having a new computer with embedded wireless internet access, an inexpensive, unlimited cell plan, and no more wasted payments for a phone we're not using. All these changes will save us $50.00 every month. Ahh, feel the love.

So, there's my winnowing week in a nutshell. Just under thirty-two bazillion words. Not too shabby.

And now, I leave you with self-portraits of Brilliant Beauty upon her discovering the fun of a webcam. Enjoy.

Oh Dear What Could The Matter Be - Part Two

I’ll say it again: I feel certain I’m on the right track with this winnowing venture. I see benefits already. I find sound structure in places where there wasn’t any before. And there is scaffolding going up in other areas as the stewarding, saving, sifting, and shifting are being built into more tangible realities.

A few posts ago I acknowledged “how swiftly and how surely I could get off course in the midst of it in all the places that matter. The path could veer so easily, with a trajectory and velocity a thousand miles from the original course and pace.” This, of course, is still so true. It will always be a must to maintain a checks-and-balances system, an accounting as I go. What I knew in that last post that I would eventually have to look at and seriously mull over is the reality that, at times, the veering of course and path or the changing of trajectory and velocity IS THE OBJECTIVE and not a hindrance.

I don’t like that. I want to make plans. I want to stick to them. I want to do what I want to do. Plain and simple. Anything other than that requires a place of humility and grace and surrender that absolutely does not come naturally. PreacherMan talked about this sort of humility Sunday, the kind that remembers and relinquishes to the truth that a man makes plans but God wants to determine his steps. I know this. I live this, to some degree. But I can honestly say I didn’t expect the resistance I felt within me when challenged to let God interrupt my plans this week. Really? THIS is the plan, to take the plan I think I should be walking out (winnowing) and downshift it so the plan can be changed to who knows what? Ugh . . .

I forget sometimes. I forget a lot. I let it escape me.

God utterly loves me. He’s honored by my winnowing efforts. I know He’s at the root of my desire to clean out, for a lot of reasons. He cares about my schedule and my time and my plans. And He cares that I know I am cared for. But my comfort, my calendar, is not His priority. I hate to even say that because it makes Him seem so unsympathetic to my every day. But I have not a singular doubt this is truth.

What I forget is what He relentlessly remembers. There are lives . . . no, not “lives”, people. Not “just people”, but this mosaic of intricate, eternal creations that He fashions and sculpts and pieces together from the most basic levels to the most complex; souls He’s thought up, thinks about, held in His hand, and plans for and hopes for and loves. People originating in Him and too often snatched away.

People He paid The Ransom for. Some of them, even still, held hostage in empires of dirt.

That’s what too often escapes me. Lives in shambles. Relationships in ruins. The best parts of people lying comatose, or even dead, because of hurt or abuse or neglect or arrogance. The blind, the deaf, the leprous, the abandoned.

I forget.

He doesn’t.

He wants to take me in as confidant. He wants me to sow in tears, moved by the anguish of His broken Daddy’s heart for His children, and His shattered Lover’s heart for the object of His deepest affections. He wants to hold me close till I get it, till the craving of His heart is palpable in my own. He loves me, and I know it. But He loves them, too, and they may not.

He cares about my agenda, but make no mistake, He has one, too. And if I lose the pulse of His, the emptiness and annihilation of real purpose would swallow every plan I make.

God, swiftly and surely get me off my course in the midst of all the places I think matter. Veer the path with a trajectory and velocity a thousand miles from the original course and pace.

Winnow my will. Give me Yours.

“How often I’ve ached to embrace you . . . the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you wouldn’t let Me . . . and now you’re so desolate, nothing but a ghost town.” Matthew 23:37-38

I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt

Look at these ladies, so happy in their scrubs. Yep, they're living it up, doing their little turn on the catwalk.

Maybe not. But I'm soon to join their ranks. No, I'm not going to be a nurse or a model or a lunchroom lady or anyone else whose profession dictates the wearing of scrubs. But I am going to wear scrubs at my workplace . . . home.

Do I think this will make me cool? Mmm-no. Do I want to look like a wannabe or poser? Eh, nah. But do I like the idea of a designated garment for work (uh, I think they call them "uniforms")? Yup, it is pretty appealing.

A hundred and eleven years ago I bought a couple of scrub tops at the local DG (I don't know why so let's just move forward). They're awesomely ugly, really, by fashion standards. Unless you're a kindergartener, maybe. They both have hearts and flowers and sunshines and swirls and saccharine tablets all over them. I've never really worn them, but the other morning I pulled one out of the closet and threw it on. I kind-of-sort-of fell in deep like with scrubs that day. I was smitten, in deep smit.

Here's some reasons. It's made of really lightweight materials. It has pockets and they are amazing. I mean if push came to shove I could maybe tote Pretty Baby in one pocket and Little Big Man in the other. There's always something I'm carrying around . . . a paci, a bunch of tissues, cell phone, snacks, trash I pick up off the floor, toys needing to be transported back to where they actually go as opposed to where the kids think they go (read: everywhere) . . . so well-placed, ample pockets are a major plus.

Also, in my "profession" it's entirely probable that the day will draw to a close with me wearing someone else's bodily fluid. I looked up the reason why nurses wear scrubs (Don't laugh at me. I look up everything. Do YOU know what rank Jimmy Stewart was in the U.S. military? I do. Do YOU know what ever happened to Maxie Priest? I do. Do YOU know what the gross national product of Coite D'Ivoire is? I do. Do YOU know where this one particular friend from my school days is now? If so, let me know. I can't find her anywhere.). This is one nurse's summary statement: "we wear them because on a daily basis, we get blood, stool, urine, vomit, and many other bodily fluids on our clothing". Thank you, sir or madame. My point exactly.

I have ragged out more clothes than I care to remember in the daily ins and outs of caring for children and a home. Admittedly I am not the cleanest cleaner-upper. Even wearing my apron I realize I don't wipe my hands where the apron naturally falls, but just to the sides of it onto my clothes. Weird, I know. I have never claimed of myself anything to the contrary.

SisterFriend and I have had many a discussion, as well as some with KakiBlack, WagStat, and other moms, about the conundrum of this profession . . . working in the home, on the home, for the family, with the family. My SouthBendBro has always acknowledged to SisterFriend the difficulty of her job, being the manager of her home, having to be her own boss and motivator day in and day out. Yeah, that about sums it up. And sometimes "dressing for the job" seems less than required when the job lies within the confines of your own four walls.

But I've got to admit that the FlyLady chic is onto something with the whole concept of getting up and getting dressed, from earrings down to shoes (I am, however, still a little bitter with her over all those emails she sent, gumming up my inbox. How does THAT help me clean out and get organized?!). It's not unlike the adage of "dressing for the job you want"; the job where I'm a little more prepared, a little more organized . . . and where there's a little less laundry to do since I'm wearing my uniform everyday.

So, I confess I am not too sexy for my shirt, but you probably knew that already. I'm just too messy for it. In a sense, I'm winnowing my work wardrobe, and subsequently some laundry, too. As with everything, we'll see how it goes. If it works, awesome. If it doesn't, no biggie. If it causes someone to ask me to assist with an emergency apendectomy or spoon them up some more tater tots, I may rethink the whole thing . . . or just do it.

I'm too sexy for this blog.

The Many Uses Of Cloth Diapers...Including Cloth Diapering

I thought about titling this post “Winnow the Poo”, but I thought better of it. Aren’t you so relieved?

So being…well… me, I have talked about (read: threatened) taking up cloth diapering for each of the three Us-es’ hineys. For a dizzying array of reasons I have never stepped out and actually done it. I know it seems to some more than a bit antiquated in these days of disposable-this-and-throwaway-that. Maybe it seems like an empirically unnecessary time-sucking chore. Or maybe it just seems “nehsty”.

Yeah, maybe, but not to me.

I’ll save us some time because to describe all the reasons cloth diapering is appealing to me would really require putting descriptors on entire parts of my psyche and bends of my personality. Who’s got time or energy for all of that? Let’s sum up instead: I want to cloth diaper. I think I would like it. I think I could do it. I’m going to try it.

So since I’ve determined I’m going to try it, I decided to do a little online research to see what I need to know or what I might not be anticipating in the world of cloth diapering. I’ll tell you right now what I was not anticipating: the outrageous amounts of money people are putting into this practice of cloth diapering.

Unbelievable. Really. Like, I don’t even believe it right NOW and I’ve done the research. Isn’t one of the reasons touted for cloth diapering so that you can save a fortune in fudge not buying disposable diapers? Well, then why does it cost so much to set a new mommy up with everything she needs to cloth diaper? Mind-boggling. My mind=boggled. Bogg.led. Seriously.

Now picture me, a woman determined to cloth diaper, in the midst of an unwavering personal campaign to winnow, doggedly resolute against spending superfluous funds to see my goals accomplished. So what’s a girl to do?

I’m so glad you asked . . . Take it on as a challenge and prove it doesn’t have to cost the equivalent of a country’s gross national product.

Fundamentally, to cloth diaper you need:
--cloth diapers (gasp…no?! Really?!)
--a way to fasten the diapers (diaper pins, Velcro, duct tape, etc.)
--some sort of non-plastic-most-likely-nylon diaper covers (unless you like being peed on…or worse)
--a pail or bin for wet/dirty diapers
--knowledge about the best way to wrap and fasten the diaper onto your baby (there are tutorials galore online, and practice makes perfect)

Really, truly, that’s it. In my mind everything else being sold for cloth diapering is a luxury and not an essential.

Here are my supplies and the price I paid for each –
-12 100% cotton prefolded cloth diapers (These are the basic ones you can buy at The Big Bullseye…or The Forbidden Place if you must.) This pack cost me $15.00.
-14 diaper pins (These were tricky to find, but I found them at We-B-Toys.) This is more than I probably need, but we Us-es lose stuff. I paid $3.00 (The pins “live” in a bar of soap which makes them easier to push into the cloth).
-4 pair of basic nylon diaper cover pant thingys (chocolate…candy…coated). Whatever they’re officially called, I paid $14.00.

Here is where I splurged. I purchased two pair of higher-tech diaper cover pant thingys, a) because they added a little convenience for whenever necessary, and b) how stinking cute are THESE?!

Here’s how they work –

(See how you fold the diaper towards the front and tuck it into the pouch for extra absorption? Cool, huh?)

And voila! It fastens like a disposable diaper. No pins needed.

Here’s the second of the two pair, modeled here by Pretty Baby.

Again, these two items were my splurge and cost $26.00 total.

So, all things considered, I spent $58.00 on all my supplies to set us up for cloth diapering. If you need something to compare that cost to, try this tidbit. While I was in the store that sells the nylon pant thingys one of the salespeople tried to sell me a “starter kit” (as well as trying to sell me special detergent, diaper liners, mechanical prosthesis that changes the diaper for you . . . okay, maybe not that last one). It came with one pair of pants similar to the two pair I splurged on, and six-100% cotton prefolded cloth diapers. And the cost? One.Hundred.Dollars. Yep. For less than half of the supplies I got, they would allow me the honor of paying almost twice as much.

Upon departure, Brilliant Beauty received her first lesson on retail sales and working on commission.

These are the plain nylon pant thingys . . .

Here is the pail I use for the wet/dirty diapers. It didn’t cost a thin, red cent since it’s one of seventy-four Easter baskets hanging around here. I sprinkle a little baking soda in the bottom of the pail for odor control, and then throw the diapers into the wash daily (and I keep the “24” DVDs nearby because who couldn’t use Jack Bauer’s help with dirty diapers?).

So I have now cloth diapered Pretty Baby for a little over a week and, as I knew I would, I love it. It just feels like it makes sense.

I was given an awesome diaper shower by KakiBlack and JenBen before Pretty Baby got here. I was so blessed by the friends who gave at the shower that I still have not had to purchase diapers or wipes, and Pretty Baby is almost four months old. Amazing. We still put her in a disposable diaper at bedtime because, well, we like sleep. Also, this is MY decision to cloth diaper and I don’t intend to impose it on grandparents, friends, or other family members by making them cloth diaper. We will continue to send disposable diapers with her when she goes a-visiting unless expressly asked to let them try the cloth diapers. I don’t anticipate that happening.

I realize I’m a latecomer to this cloth-diapering thing. I am, after all, just starting it on kid three. But I think the timing is perfect. We are in a routine -- a constant -- which allows me the room to experiment and learn and practice -- a variable. As a first-time mom to Brilliant Beauty, this might’ve felt overwhelming as I started learning her and myself as a mommy. After Little Big Man arrived, there was too much internal tumult to work on rising above, not within him but within me. Once Pretty Baby got here, we’ve started making our adjustments well, and we’ve seen no return of days like these. So now works. It works well. I’m loving it all.

Hence I have not actually winnowed the “poo”, but I am winnowing out our own personal contribution to Disposable Diaper Mountain. And I guess you could say, quoting from the modern-day classic, “I’m takin’ it back to da old school ‘cause I’ma old fool who’s so cool”.

Whoomp! There it is!

Breaking Up With Wal-Mart

Big Mama touched on something this morning that I had been thinking about already, so why not write about it?

I haven’t been to Wal Mart in four years. Well, that’s not precisely correct. I have been there twice in four years. I walked away quickly and empty-handed the first time, and the second time with only a gift card for a family in need, knowing they likely happily shop at Wal Mart. The Forbidden Place is what it is affectionately known as around Quaint Cottage, a moniker bestowed by Ma Luffin’ Mayun when he realized I was making good on my threat to never return.

Four.Years. As of January 10th. I hadn’t realized till this morning it had been that long. At the end of this blog entry is the original explanation for my departure from being a Wal Mart shopper, the breakup note, but I thought I would talk about how I’ve made the decision actually stick these past years.

If I had to sum up my strategy for living without Wal Mart in a single sentence it would be this: I traded shopping for consuming. I often need literal word definitions to help me sculpt a concept, so take a look at this from the Encarta dictionary:
-- Shopper – somebody who is looking for things to buy in a shop or store
-- Consumer – somebody or something that consumes something, by eating it, drinking it, or using it up
See that? It’s a nuance, perhaps, but it’s a difference I can see screaming off the page.

In my copious years as a frequenter of The Forbidden Place, shopping was all I did, really. I’ve NEVER thought of myself as a shopper, but when I see the word defined there is no more exact a description for myself than that. In every visit to Wal Mart I would amble about just looking for something completely unnecessary (but easy to justify if you come equipped with a BS gifting like me) to toss in the buggy, adding to the few things we may have actually needed. That was me, “somebody who is looking for things to buy in a shop or store”.

By ceasing to shop at Wal Mart, the one-stop-shopping Mecca, I have to go more places to get all the things we may need for our household. That can be difficult with little ones; the packing up to go after having attempted to anticipate each possible need for every scenario from a dirty diaper to Armageddon, parking, unloading the kids, lugging them around a store, reloading them into the car along with bags of purchased items, and then starting it all over again at the next store. **And while we’re here . . . why the heck is there “Expectant Mother Parking” in increasingly more places, but no “Bedraggled Mama of Toddlers Parking” ANYWHERE?! Seriously? Obviously I’ve been the Expectant Mother, but I would go to the mat any day to argue that carrying a person contained in your body is easier than chasing one or dragging one who has gone completely limp in a refusal to walk while crossing the parking lot in the face of oncoming cars. But, I digress . . . **

Knowing the epic undertaking it is to do this kind of compartmentalized shopping (the grocery store for groceries, the clothing store for clothing, the home improvement store for house stuffs, etc.), it has really required me to HAVE A PLAN. I have to put much more thought and deliberateness into the what, where, why, and how of our purchases. I don’t want any trip to these places to be a wasted trip by forgetting the things we really need or bringing home a bunch of things we don’t. I try really hard to make sure that what I bring in can be depleted “by eating it, drinking it, or using it up”. If I buy too much or the wrong things, we can’t meet that goal. It’s a process. It has taken time to get to here, and it takes time even now. But the trade-off feels really good and right and intentional and purposeful.

Don’t get me wrong. You can still impulse-purchase at the grocery store or the thrift store, and I have. But there has been so much less “shopping” since I broke up with The Forbidden Place. The year before the breakup (2005), Wal-Mart’s total revenue was $312.4 billion. Last year (2009), their total revenue was $404.16 billion. Clearly, I have not put a hurtin’ on them.

So, I try to be a consumer instead of a shopper, and simply consume a lot less.

And by the way, I love Wal Mart. I do. It will always hold a special place in my heart. We’re just not right for each other. It would’ve never worked out. We’re better off with somebody else.

Here’s the breakup letter, originally written by me on January 10th, 2006. Enjoy!

[I am embarking on a journey. As with all epic adventures, it will require nothing less than the utmost tenacity and fortitude to walk each step of the way. Some days may feel like an amble in the park, as if I were basking in beams of light that radiate from the very challenge itself. As well there will be, without a doubt, obstacles that will cause my steadfast resolve to quake and me to doubt the worth of the expedition. Nevertheless, it is now that I determine with paramount resolve and doggedness to do what I have long threatened to do…to begin this trek…to officially attempt to live my life without Super Wal Mart.

Let me first say, that at this point in this process my decision to boycott Super Wal Mart is absolutely not based on any expose of the company, any of its policies, or its clear monopoly of “one-stop shopping”. The singular reason these factors do not affect my decision to cease shopping at Super Wal Mart is one basic fact: I know almost diddlysquat about the corporation, its dogma, or its cartel. By all accounts, the founder of Wal Mart seemed to be a God-fearing and thoughtful businessman. I am simply instituting a personal embargo because I am…well…fed up.

Wal Mart has been part of my life for a long time, as I am sure most Americans can say. There have been moments in my life that it has brought me joy, elation, relief, and escape, just to walk through its doors and see the commerce and industry at my fingertips. It has been a marvelous distraction from my hectic days or heavy thoughts. What thrill there was in being able to purchase windshield wipers, control top panty hose, fresh eggs, and Englebert Humperdink’s greatest hits CD all in one place. Who else can say that of their store? But those days of euphoria for me have come…and long gone.

Last night my husband, daughter, and I packed into our car and went to the Super Wal Mart less than fifteen miles south of our house. There is another one, our “regular” Super Wal Mart if you will, less than fifteen miles north of us. There is still another Super Wal Mart ten miles north of there, and so forth and so on for miles. In the last week I have visited all three of these branches within a twenty-five mile radius of my house for various reasons. Last night’s trip was for groceries and photo development. As I found myself standing in the house wares department trying to talk my husband into a new comforter set for our bed (bringing the number of comforters for our bed alone up to three), which qualifies as neither groceries nor photo development, I realized that this is how it always ends up. I am supremely distracted, to some degree at odds with my husband or myself over some item I have convinced myself we need in a record minute and a half, and am completely off task, worn out, and too tired to finish my original shopping list. In the checkout line last night I looked around with the comprehension that my joy has been replaced by gloom, elation replaced by depression, relief replaced by drudgery, and escape replaced by enslavement every time I darken the doors of Super Wal Mart. I am simply…fed up.

So what shall I do? Well, I have decided to not return to any Super Wal Mart for an entire year. My last visit was last night, January 9th, 2006. We completed our shopping experience at 7:23 P.M. (note: We arrived at 5:35 PM, had a shopping list with 21 items on it, and the intention to print 17 pictures from our digital camera. We purchased 43 items, in addition to our 17 developed pictures, and missed 4 items on our original shopping list.) The clock starts from there. I will not purchase anything, from the smallest pack of gum to the largest electronic device, from Super Wal Mart. Not only will I not purchase anything, I will also not enter the doors of a Super Wal Mart within this year. This will be a huge challenge for me because, again, Wal Mart has been a major part of my life. It will be an even bigger adjustment. But this is an alteration of my life that I want to make. I do not want to purchase twice the items that I should‘ve, and still not have everything I need. I do not want to go in for deodorant and come out with the lost episodes of Mutt and Jeff on DVD just because it was in the $5.50 bin. I do not want to feel “aisle rage” as the other Super Wal Mart shoppers abandon their ability to operate a several ton vehicle for the haphazard driving they indulge in with their shopping carts. I do not want to end every romantic and memorable evening out with my husband with a trip to Super Wal Mart because our car seems to have a magnet pulling it into the parking lot, riddled with abandoned buggies. I do not need to feel that needy, that desperate, that pathetic.

These are my issues, not Super Wal Mart’s. I take full responsibility for my weaknesses, my actions, my habits. I am not asking Super Wal Mart to change a thing. I just know my limitations, and I’m tired of ignoring them.

So, I bid you “Farewell, Super Wal-Mart“. I’m just a drop in your “one-stop shop” bucket, I’m sure, and you’ll never know I’m gone. But I gotta be moving on.]

No, We're Never Gonna Survive Unless We Get A Little Crazy

I’m sitting at the computer and eating mixed nuts, which feels like an exceedingly appropriate snack in light of our last few days with Little Big Man on steroids for his eczema. I think we’re all feeling a little loopy with him on “the juice”. Poor guy. Skin’s clearing, but the Bruce-Banner-byproducts are painful to watch (believe me, you wouldn’t like him when he’s angry). Only a couple more days and he’ll be himself once more . . . I hope.

With the eczema comes all kinds of challenges in finding skin, hair, and bath products that have the least amount of chemicals and fragrance, and products that promote the most moisture-retention for his little skin (hey, your epidermis is showing). We’ve stumbled across good and bad products over the last two years. Again, I think it will be nice to have a mixture of my “granola” tendencies, as SisterFriend would call them, and someone trained in the mainline medical field working together to find what will really work to give his whole body all that it needs for optimum health.

This is a fun concoction I whipped up this week to help sooth his angry eczema and add some moisture to his skin.

I gathered up these ingredients: rolled oats, olive oil, and some lavender I'd been drying for about six weeks

In my mini food processor I combined about a cup of oats, around a teaspoon of olive oil, and the entire bunch of lavender and then pulverized it into a fine, soft, slightly moist/mostly dry mixture

I then got a sock (a clean one, I assure you), placed it around the mouth of the processor bowl and . . .

. . . dumped it in.

Then I tied of the end of the sock in a knot and placed in the bathtub.

Let me just say, I LOVED the result. The aroma alone was divine. I used the . . . sock, pouch, sachet? . . . as I would a bar of soap to clean the small fry, and Little Big Man left the bath feeling so soft and smelling of earthy deliciousness.

I will so do this again, even for myself. And it put some of the herbs I grew and subsequently have been drying to a real use. Score.

It's so fun to come with new things all by my big self.

And don't be jealous of my awesome low-resolution pictures. We can't ALL have really expensive phones with really crappy cameras.

Winnow-free Wednesday

The cleaning up and cleaning out took a necessary backseat to a much-needed visit to the dermatologist for Little Big Man. Our little guy has battled (as well as mommy and daddy on his behalf) eczema -- at times, severe eczema -- since only weeks after his birth. Today was his first appointment, and hopefully a big step down the road to recovery.

The doctor was great with him, checked him out, affirmed our efforts, made some suggestions, wrote two prescriptions, and scheduled us a follow-up appointment for February (which we won't be charged for . . . how cool is that? Thanks G-O-D and d-o-c!). One of the scripts is to be taken at full dosage for five days and then at half dosage for three more. Apparently it has the potential to transform him into the Energizer bunny (isn't he already?!). Well, that or the Incredible Hulk. That should be really, uh, interesting. If it gets too wild I'll just send him out to plow the back forty or conquer evil.

I'm just glad Little Big Man's skin is soon on the mend.

Since we're all tired of seeing pictures of my laundry room (Can I get an "amen"? I see that hand. Are there others?), here are some cutie shots from today's eczema excursion.

Sitting like a big boy waiting for the doc

We don't go many places without a football or Thomas the tank engine

Admiring the art on the wall

No kidding!

Notice the foot in motion...he was preparing to revolt and bolt, but he hung in there quite well

And here's a little Chick-Fil-A playground time for being a good patient

Well say it ain’t so, but I think I might’ve stumbled onto a system, and in the area of laundry, no less! (Just when you thought it couldn’t be done . . .)

Following on the heals of my painful epiphany that I cannot in fact “eat the elephant” in one bite, I took a step aside from intense winnowing of stuff to make sure I’m meeting basic needs, adding that back to the process. Anonymous asked yesterday if this meant winnowing was going by the wayside. Definitely not.

Actually, I think this is the most efficient way to winnow. One of our definitions for “winnowing” was “to separate grain from its husks (chaff) by tossing it in the air or blowing air through it”. Everything in my house does not need to be gotten rid of, but there are stuffs and broken systems that need to have new life breathed into them, “blowing air through it”. I can’t see what is chaff or grain in either our stuff or our systems if there isn’t some modicum of steady gathering and sorting and inspection. And cleaning consistently (not constantly, but consistently) is a great way, probably the best way, to winnow and maintain peace within our Fab Five and Quaint Cottage. So . . .

I’ve been working on the laundry, getting it caught up in order to KEEP IT caught up. Between last night and this morning I seemed to have stumbled upon a few little tricks that are making the process so much easier, more enjoyable, more logical, and potentially formulary in creating a good, sustainable system.

**I should take this moment to clarify that I make no declaration of being original or revolutionary in my processes or projects. I know that bits and pieces of other people’s good ideas roll around in my head, mixing with my own creativity. This blog is just the chronicle of me twisting and contorting what will work in my own life. So if you see me try something someone else has already thought of, blogged about, marketed, failed at, or trademarked, it is not intentional plagiarism (a little bootleg, maybe). Chalk it up to a little no-idea-seems-a-good-idea-until-it’s-your-idea thinking.**

Here’s the laundry-cleaning structure so far:
-I put a load of laundry in the washing machine before bed. This morning I threw in the detergent and started the load washing.
-Because of being so backed up with the laundry, I did not do a pain staking sort of the laundry before gathering the load. I just grabbed a load, washed it on warm wash/cold rinse, and moved it to the dryer.
-A dry load was put in a basket, a wet load was transferred to the dryer, a dirty load was started in the wash, and then the dry load in the basket was folded/hung BEFORE EVER LEAVING THE LAUNDRY ROOM.
-I repeated the process.

NOT leaving the laundry room was the key to the success, absolutely. Here’s what I did to extend my work area (signage should read “Dwight’s Workspace”):
-I cleaned the tops of the dryer and washer with all-purpose cleaner and cloth
-I remembered I had some random shelves from a broken bookshelf I purchased at The Forbidden Place a thousand years ago. I positioned one above the washer to hold the basket containing the detergent and fabric softener sheets and the trash can for dryer lint. The other two I put on top of the dryer which extended the usable surface area. I used this area on top of the dryer for Ma Luffin’ Mayun’s clothes and mine.
-I put the lids on the recycle bins, which provided perfect spots for me to stack the kids folded laundry – Brilliant Beauty’s and Pretty Girl’s on one bin, Little Big Man’s on the other. And since it’s down at their level they can come to the laundry room, grab their stacks, and put it away in their rooms.

So I’m pretty pleased. Of course, to keep the progress going I’ll have to stick to it everyday. I do think I will give myself a cut off time each day. I’ll wash my last load for the day no later than about 5:30 so I’m not folding during time the Fab Five could be spending together. We’ll see.

Another part of the process of organization

The makeshift shelf above the washer

The bookshelves used to extend the workspace on top of the dryer . . . please excuse the skivvies!

The kids' stacks to take to their rooms

Reeee-cycle!

. . . like to the tune of "Riiiii-cola". Get it? Ha, ha, ha, heh, heh . . . heh . . . heh . . . hm.

Ehem.

Moving on . . .

I called around in our county and found that the recycling effort is indeed limited to newspaper and cardboard. Well, we don't take "the paper" ("thehs pehper contehns focts") and we aren't typically rolling in cardboard, so fatlottagood that would do us. We are nearly just over the line from another county, the one Ma Luffin' Mayun and I grew up in, and they have a recycling location only five minutes from Quaint Cottage. In addition, the recycling station is right beside our library of choice, as well as where we like to take walks as a family. I was under the impression we couldn't recycle there since we are not residents of the county. After a quick phone call and brief conversation with the dude at the recycling facility, I found out its a GO for dropping off our paper, plastic, glass, and metal at no cost to us and at a site near places we frequent regularly any way. I call that a score.

The Mini-Me Posse and I went to the Big Bullseye (because WallyWorld is still The Forbidden Place to the occupants of Quaint Cottage . . . that's a story for another day) and purchased three bins with lids to use for recycling. One we labeled for paper, another for plastic, and the third is on standby until we figure out it's best use after navigating recycling for a while. We can just fill those bins up, slap their lids on, throw them in the Jeep, and haul them over to have their contents be reincarnated. Pretty cool.

We found a good home for the bins in the laundry room. Everybody seems "on board" so we'll see how it goes.

P.S. I will be trying another winnowing/frugal project in the next day or so, but "mum's the word" until I see the initial results. Then I'll let you know, pass or fail!
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Oh Dear, What Could The Matter Be? - Part One

I'm sitting here drinking my second cup of coffee and thinking. Actually, I'm doubtless thinking because of the second cup of coffee, but that's neither here nor there.

I've been thinking a lot over the last few days. I feel certain I'm on the right track with this winnowing venture (at least the need for it), but what I've been thinking about is how swiftly and how surely I could get off course in the midst of it in all the places that matter. The path could veer so easily, with a trajectory and velocity a thousand miles from the original course and pace. In some ways I can tell it already has swerved. Maybe it's the discomfort of that truth that's gotten me thinking.

Ma Luffin' Mayun is a good man, maybe even the best of men. Last night, like every night, he put Little Big Man to bed with a story and a prayer, then met Brilliant Beauty in her room, read to her another story, and followed it up with some daddy-daughter silliness evident by the sounds of laughter wafting up the hallway from her room. Earlier in the day he apologized to me for his impatience at times; impatience with unmet expectations, with the kids, with the house. And I sat there and, first, thought that I certainly love this man who apologizes at all since I know so much apology-and-forgiveness is missing from so many relationships. It's not easy to stare an error in the face and then concede it to someone else. I want to be like him when I grow up.

But mostly I thought about the ways I had contributed to his lack of patience. Here's what I mean. By jumping into the winnowing at a certain place as opposed to another, addressing part of the problem but maybe not the most pressing part, is ultimately unproductive and stress inducing. My best "for example" is in the area of laundry. When I started on the laundry room last week it was because I saw there was a "bleed"* with our laundry; more accurately, a full-blown hemorrhage. But by my efforts to start at the wound site (i.e. the laundry room) instead of first cleaning away the blood (i.e. the dirty laundry everyone is stepping over and on in piles in their rooms), the wound just continues to bleed because I can't really see how to best tend to it. The basics, the essentials, were being pushed aside rather than properly dealt with. Pile two adults and three children on top of that and who wouldn't be warring with patience?

I do this so often. The living room is messy so I rearrange the furniture, the dishes need to be washed so I decide to start an organizational project within the cabinets, and so it goes and goes and goes. I always chalk this up to being idiosyncratic. Yeah, well, it doesn't fly. Clearly if it was working I wouldn't be seeking new, functional methods of organization in places where the only consistency is consistently falling short of good methodology. The simple truth is any chaos currently present in our home can't be precisely placed as being the fault of having three children or too much stuff or not enough time in the day. Misdirected efforts and skewed priorities are the primary culprits in the disorder I find myself dealing with these days. Owee.

So, if the us-es are the most important thing, my approach has got to change. I've gotten off course. The way back into order and peace has to always have the us-es as top priority. I mean, who cares if the jots and tittles within Quaint Cottage are taken care of if my peeps are insane with frustration and irritation and neglect?
Sigh.

Hurts so good.

*Let me say "sorry" to my squeamish homeys (read: SisterFriend) for the wound analogy.

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Frugal Friday

(Yes, I know its Saturday, but this would have been yesterday's post had I not had a two-year-old refusing his assigned sleep location while visiting Papa and Tunan, ill-contented until crawling into bed with me leaving us both sleep-deprived and cranky. Sigh.)

So part of this project is to winnow unnecessary spending. Again, this isn't a new effort, but its definitely being approached with renewed motivation and creativity.

I've always tried to be thrifty, mostly out of necessity. Ma Luffin' Mayun and I entered connubial bliss in 1997, hopelessly in love and pretty nearly as hopelessly moneyless. Until the kids came we both worked full-time. But it wasn't until 2004 that there was a well-paying salaried, benefits-included career.

There's been debt, and the paying off thereof. There's been savings, and the depletion thereof. But the beauty of our story is that even from the beginning we have always had everything we need. ALWAYS. And lots of our wants have been supplied for, too. Now our finances are a bit more settled and certainly more predictable. But the residual frugality is something I see as being part of who I am. It comes pretty first-nature in a lot of ways, but there's surely room for improvement (and don't call me "Shirley").

I like to come up with thrifty ideas to implement around Quaint Cottage (read: small house). Here are a few tricks and tries from this week . . .

- I didn't let myself make any impulse purchases, not so much as a piece of gum. (And believe me, this was some kind of fun . . . ho hum)
- I stuck to the budgeted amount of money for groceries that will cover two weeks, feeding our family, and feeding us well, on fresh fruits, fresh-frozen vegetables, whole grains, fresh meats, and enjoying one meal out. The total monies spent for our family of five (including purchasing formula and diapers) was right at $170.00. Not bad, not bad at all. (I'll take another post to explain my grocery shopping approach)
- I used my reusable canvas bags to package up the groceries which eliminates the irritating mountain of plastic sacks that are inevitable at checkout because they only put three items in each bag.
- This is a bit of a cheat because it didn't all happen within this week, but...I built a 3x3 fenced area for compost in the backyard just before Christmas. Our city doesn't have recycling (rednecks), but I hate the thought and sight of all of our trash constantly stacking up. So my starting point is to take all kitchen waste (which, even with good eaters, is a lot) to the compost bin. Yummy things like rinds, bread crusts, coffee grounds with their filter, grits, shredded-non-slick paper, lots of layers of fabulous leaves from our woods and tons of earthworms Brilliant Beauty and I harvested from all over our yard are going into the compost daily. This fine brew will help me as I work toward my goal of square-foot gardens this year. (I'll have to spend some time with Big Mama and glean from her wisdom and knowledge).
- We all wake up every day dry as dehydrated fruit, so to add back some moisture into the air I've been slow-boiling water in the kettle on the stovetop throughout the day. To enhance the experience a bit more I added to the water some orange peel and apple core leftover from breakfast, along with clove and cinnamon. As it all boiled and brewed the house smelled divine. This will become a fixture at our house. Later in the week I tried a new mixture of some herbs and flowers I had dried. I ended up adding some essential oil because, frankly, it smelled like green beans rather than a nice, herby-flowery aroma. Frankly, blech.

Just some little efforts at "streamlineation" (I think I just made up a word) and thrift and frugality.

We'll see what else we can get into (or rid of) next week.
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Small Beginnings

Throughout my adult life I have tried to keep a steady ebb and flow effect with our belongings, so this project is not totally uncharted territory. Still, I've never done it with three kids in tow or really on such a large scale, aiming for winnowing in all areas of my life.

Its hard to not despise small beginnings, especially in 2010 where I can blog from a telephone, have a bottle ready for Pretty Baby in less than two minutes, skype with people in any timezone at any given moment, pay a bill or transfer funds with a mouse click, or purchase nearly anything I want on credit.

Its hard to take it slower. Slowing it down or starting small isn't always the best way, but by and large it is and it goes against the grain of our society. Oh, that we could convince the world that they have permission - no, necessity - to STOP! And.smell.the.roses. If they - we - could find satisfaction in mundane and monotonous tasks, letting the repitition and redundancy weave a thread of patience not otherwise earned; begin with only a little and trust that when we need more, can manage more, there will be more; realize the success in failure, really blowing it, because those are the times that tell us who we are and Where we can lean; swell with the deepest of pride just for finishing what we start, even it the "what" doesn't amount to much in someone else's estimation.

I can't despise small beginnings, and I can't resent the process. Its all process. Its "take a step forward", "hurry up and wait", "be still and know". . .

I'm ending the week not having accomplished what I started the week wanting to. But that's okay. Here are components of my small beginning that I am, oh, so proud of:
- I started (that in and of itself is no small miracle)
- I worked in the laundry room
- I thrice resisted the temptation to just "spend money"
- I unsubscribed to numerous email newsletters that I never read
- I took these two pretty wooden purses that I was putting to no use at all over to KakiBlack for her to add to her newly-started collection
- I winnowed my facebook "friends"
- I blogged regularly
- I winnowed my winnowing to hold Pretty Baby, play with Little Big Man, read to Brilliant Beauty, care for Docile Doggy, and love and laugh with Ma Luffin' Mayun
- I looked for My Three-Personed-God and found Him all over, confirming and affirming each step of the way

Its been good. Its been slow. I haven't liked that much. But I won't fight against it. As I like to say, "it is what it is". Its a small beginning, but that's enough.

And Enough is as good as a feast.
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Rome Wasn't Built In A Day

...or so I've heard. I don't know. I wasn't there.

If this is indeed true, I believe I picked the first-room-to-winnow equivalent of building the Colosseum. Good.grief.

I love my laundry room. It is really a room. There's a lovely window to the backyard. It is quite spacious to work in. That is, it would be without all of the stuff in the way. We use this room for laundry, storage, central location for movies (DVDs and VHS), paperwork (files, The Brilliant Beauty's school work, etc.), and the computer and all it's associated paraphernalia (cables, DVDs, CDs, software, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah). By their powers combined these stuffs make this room the bane of my existence.

In a move I find akin to walking in front of all of you naked, here is a picture of my laundry room. I can honestly say I don't even know what all is in there. Ugh. Its full of the afore mentioned items, but also laundry (that stays backed up because a - we all have more clothes than we know what to do with, and b - I ain't ever been consistent in the washing and folding process...I AIN'T. Ever!), home decor that isn't decorating anything but piles of stuff, exactly one gazillion burnable DVDs from video projects I have made through the years but not labeled or stored, Docile Doggy's kennel,...and the list goes on and on.

You want to see more? Its like a bad wreck, isn't it? You should probably turn away and you know it, but at the same time its a little too intriguing to not look. I know, I know. Been there, done that. Here's some more shots of the wreckage (you sickos)...

The computer desk, scattered, smothered, and covered



















The crapola to the left of the desk, including laundry baskets and a few of the seven-hundred-fifty-eight throw blankets we've somehow accumulated



















To the left are the videos, which Little Big Man repeatedly messes with partly out of curiosity and partly because there a mess already, so why not?












There are decorative plates piled on the dryer (that I will never hang), a "Bake With A Light Bulb" oven above the washer, empty baby formula tins (because you never know when you might need those), and I'm sure Joan is somewhere screaming over those wire hangers
















Yeah. So, ummm, did I mention I have three kids? Did I further mention one of them is two? And a BOY (Yes, Virginia. There is a difference)? And another is 3 months old and, try as one might, refuses to feed herself every three to four hours (What are they teaching kids these days? Gah.) Once again, "needless to say, there was plenty of opposition." But here is the progress thus far...

I'm not even finished, not nearly, but can't you already breathe better? Movies have been sifted through, unwanted ones bagged for Tha Gootwill, and keepers relocated to organized all-ready-owned-but-not-being-used shelving under the window. I've got lots more to do in here, but I see progress.

Slow and steady will win the race. Slow mainly because winnowing can't be my full-time gig. Little coos and cries from Pretty Baby, the need for "sumpin' to eat" from Little Big Man, and big-girl-talk-time with Brilliant Beauty remind of that. There the us-es more important than the stuffses (Theo Geisel would be so proud), even the clearing out of the stuffses. But I aim to be steady, chipping away, every day, at some of that ol' clutter. The harvest is too promising to get choked on the chaff.

Details

"This is a story…a true story…of seven people…picked to live in a loft…and have their lives video-taped…"

…or maybe not. See what I mean about too much stuff, even stuff rolling around in my head? I totally pulled that nonsense from the recesses of my brain. I haven't watched Real World since the 90s.

Here are some goals*:
Go through our house room by room and consider the intended function of the room, what items help that function, and get rid of the superfluous stuff. (This doesn't mean there won't be pictures on the walls or decorations when I get through with the place, but I am truly reducing what we own…winnowing.)

Come up with efficient, workable systems of organization for everything from laundry to paperwork to dvds to dry goods, using the resources we already own (baskets, plastic bins, cabinet space, containers, etc.)

Aside from groceries and gasoline buy nothing for, at least, the first 90 days of 2010. No.thing.

When buying groceries be as frugal as possible, as well as reduce the amount of processed foods we consume.

To know Jesus better, I want to take time and intentionally read only the Bible instead of devotionals or commentaries. If I had to attempt marriage with Ma Luffin' Mayun by only hearing what other people knew or thought about him based on their encounters with him rather than spending time with him and discovering him for myself, our marriage would be dead in the water. This is no different.

Consistently document the journey here. Pass or fail. Brilliance or a bust.

So, these are the guidelines, the details, of my use it or lose it life.

Here goes…

*These are my goals and not necessarily Ma Luffin' Mayun's, although he is giving me full support.
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