The Simple Poppy

A Minimal Birthday

 

 

     Last week I had an eight year old and now she's nine. Our birthday celebrations have always been simple, and this year was no exception. We're a family of shy introverts; planning the kind of birthday party that is common today in America is beyond my reach and desire. So perhaps I fail in this part of motherhood. I don't think I care. My girls are still  floating and dancing and giggling and shrieking, so I hope this is not creating a dark scar on their hearts to share with therapists in later years.  It's our tradition, an understated, family oriented gathering, focused on the food that someone spent the day creating - kneading, pouring, grating, and whipping their happiness at this person's existence into deliciousness. My mother's family had these kinds of birthdays, and when we came along, her five girls, this is what she gave us.

    Consequently, we've raised our children to have, well, low material expectations on their birthday. They are both blessed to have been born in beautiful months, months that invite  humans out to play, walk, forage, run, and bike. We've shown them that they have our attention on their birthdays. They have our time and skillset for whatever they are creating that day. What they consider to be gastronomically delightful will be served with a flourish. We'll all spend time together. We're very casual about gifts; this year I'm planning on taking my brand new nine year old out to pick up some art supplies later in the week. I would say that our focus is less of a celebration of the day one person in our family was born and more of a celebration about the role and space that person occupies in our family and our appreciation of that.

    This is not a minimalist rant against birthday parties. I'm just sharing an aspect of our lives that has always been minimal and is probably even more so lately. I have been to some fantastic little parties; they were small, focused on playing rather than things, and not heavily structured. It's so easy to get carried away today - where only a 2K weekend in Manhattan with a gaggle of teens will do. Where some girl whose parents fall on the lower end of the income spectrum feels stigmatized because she doesn't have enough money to chip in on a piece of expensive jewelry for someone in her cliques birthday. That's a shame. A birthday, to my mind, has very little to do with belongings and places and everything to do with gratitude and love. If a length of streamers and some friends helps celebrate that, good. If debt, anxiety, and the feeling of being overwhelmed swamp you - not good.

 

For us, it was a lovely birthday weekend.

 

 

 

 

 

    A sunflower bloomed after nearly a week of constant checking on its tightly closed status. To me, auspicious. She's a sunny, mild child. Sweet mango juice runs through her veins. Her face is round and open; I hope this is never lost.  I also hope her days are filled with the splash of joy an open sunflower brings.

       Balloons, a novelty for the toddler; she called them her ears (WTH?).

    Requests for Key Lime Pie. It's a fresh favourite and pairs well with our weather now.

    Homemade pasta; a true sign of love as our kitchen is still dismantled and pasta paraphernalia was strewn across a messy table.

    Nine candles. I'm happy. I'm wistful. Her feet long ago shed their dinner roll chubbiness and now her mind is maturing - it's always too fast, yes?

    Blow by blow accounts of what my uterus was doing at this time or that time 9 years ago.

    Repeated trips with just Dad/The Simple Man to the hardware store. They come home with bits and bobs, copper tubing, wire, dreams of projects. Oh, and kitchen tiles. Lots of tiles.

 

  How  do you celebrate birthdays?

 

 

In the Spring of My Discontent Part II

 

Sand Dune Garden

  My goal as a child was to soak up every livable outdoor minute of the day that I could, pausing only to chew and swallow what my mother handed me, and ignore her warning calls in the gathering dark. I lived outside. I did not imagine, even as a teen and adult, working 40 + hours a week that I would not spend my life outside when I could.

    My vision of the future has obviously changed over the years, evolving from the bizarre; me as a sharpish Katherine Hepburn type, living in an isolated cottage but needing a butler (?!), to the simple - my plan of just backpacking continually until one day I collapsed, died, and decomposed on a moor covered in heather.

    I ever only planned the outdoor spaces that would be mine. Interiors were fleeting thoughts . . . windows, reading nooks. As a young teen I had a folder, plump with scissored pictures from discarded gardening catalogues; over and over again I cut out tiny shots of teak benches beneath drooping wisteria. I thought I would live in an actual greenhouse, wending my way through a tangle of plants to the kitchen.

     As I grew older, my future environment became more ordinary. I would have a potato field. I would wear boots and overalls for the rest of my life. I'd grow asparagus and brush my face against their feathery tops. My plan, up until the moment The Simple Man squeezed my heart with his calloused, tobacco scented hand, was to graduate, buy a truck and Go. Go drive around the country: Biloxi, Texas, Savannah, Oklahoma, the Badlands. Then I would return to my first real land love, Scotland.  What I would do once I hiked out of Glasgow (don't let anyone tell you Edinburgh is better, if you want real, and you like grit, Glasgow is it) no longer matters because it's been replaced with my life now. I have only a handful's worth of mourning in me over missing out on my wee adventures, because it's all been so, so good.

Outdoor Daybed

 

    Good except for where we live. One third of my life has been spent in the urban northeast, an area famous for unrelentingly smashing humanity together as close  as possible. I think I'm suffering from a deficiency in greeness. I am advised to take advantage of the park. This isn't what I wanted. I want to live outside. I want to cook outside. I want to grow my own food outside. I want to camp in my garden. I want to fold my laundry on a broad tree stump. I want to send my children  outside. I don't want to stroll through the park a few times a week and then watch my kids scatter around the playground. That's visiting outside, not living outside. I want my children to live the seasons, not merely watch them from a window and feel their differing temperatures on their skin.

    My indoors would be small, but filled with light. There would be enough land to yield the bulk of our yearly food. A tiny orchard, a grape arbour, and a pond. Chickens or quail. Energy efficient - possibly off grid - that's not a deciding factor for me. I want to breath early morning air from my kitchen garden and hear the subtle but unmistakable sounds of nature beginning the day, unadulterated by humans honking, polluting, talking on cellphones, spilling Starbucks, and the ever present thumping of the bass that occurs at all hours of the day in my neighborhood. I want quiet.

    When I look back, it's easy to see that a life of voluntary simplicity, minimalism, and environmentalism have always been in my nature. These are the directions I drifted until I became conscious of this and made it intentional. For me, they are all interrelated, though I understand if it's not that way for everyone. I see my best life as one that is low impact on both myself and the earth, where the superfluous has been excised, leading me to appreciate the rest. The good news is that I can live my best life anywhere, as most people can, the sad news is that I'm living it where I don't want to be living it. And that's what my struggles over contentment are about; where we live. What, you thought I was tired of The Simple Man?

 

 

Sunset dinner

 

    As I read over this post, I grin at the irony because here I am, endeavoring to live a life of less, reducing my desires one at a time, and all I've written is "I want." So be it; I've made my peace with what I really want. It's something I can't entirely control, passed down in my mother's description of her Dziadek's potager, the warm raspberries my Grandpapa grew, the joyously intense look on my mother's face as she plans her own garden for this year and the future; it was born in me.

   I consciously strive every day to want less, accept what I have, and be grateful for the enormity of what my life has been so far. But this is the one thing I cannot get over, give up, or forget about. I suspect most of us who are mindful of our wants have that one item, or dream, we refuse to give up. My dream of the future never once included a lifetime spent inside, which is where I am most of the time by default, since we don't have a real outdoors space to retreat to. The day might come when I have to realize that it's not going to happen and readjust my view of the rest of my life, especially as this isn't a monetary issue, but rather a spousal issue (he was born here; it's complicated!). Ahem. Until then, I'm still saving those inspirational outdoor pictures . . . digitally!

    Do you have a dream that won't shrivel up and die no matter how much easier it would be if it did?

 

Ripping a Kitchen and Discovering that Minimalism Doesn't Actually Mean No Organizing

    We had planned to gut our kitchen and completely redo it last year. Then we needed to replace both cars and unfortunately the car The Simple Man replaced his with ended up needing a new transmission. So we put it off in favor of other projects and recently decided that spring would be good because of the weather.

This is after I've taken the floor up and one cabinet down. It's all gone now!

    We decided we would take on the kitchen by ourselves since it's so small, 12 by 8, with 3 doors and 3 windows, so hardly any space to actually "do" much of anything! The kitchen was in terrible condition when we moved in, but I could not convince The Simple Man of that. Consequently I have cooked every day in a dilapidated kitchen, from its upside down top cabinets (oh yes), to absolutely nothing being flush, closing properly, foul pinky coloured tiles, and the permanently stained counter top being supported by the dishwasher. I could go on, but I won't. I have pictures. I plan to whip them out the moment I scent the merest whiff of recalcitrance on the part of The Simple Man the next time I want to fix something, as proof that I am not a complete harpy, and I did wait ten entire years before he decided the kitchen needed redoing.

 

One wall where the pink tile was - you can see a remnant of it at the bottom. Concrete was behind it.

    But I have nothing but good things to say about him because he works like a horse all day at his job, and then comes home and works on the kitchen. I think of myself as being helpful, I'm definitely not as knowledgeable about home repair as he is, but I'm never afraid to get my hands dirty. The first day I was so excited because I ripped up maybe half the floor tiles with a tire iron and then took down one of the two wall cabinets. The Simple Man was not impressed. I felt very indignant. A few days later I realized why my enthusiasm for my job was not properly appreciated by him. In one day, after work, he removed the rest of the floor, most of the wall tiles down to the lathe because someone thought 3 inches of concrete would be a good way to put them on, removed the dishwasher, cut out the counter, removed the base cabinets and cleaned up a dozen times in between. And he wasn't pleased with himself at all, damnit. Not only was it clear to me that I am a weakling, it must have been pretty obvious to him, too.

 

No more sink :(

    One thing I was hugely grateful for was that I had already spent a lot of time trying to make my kitchen as minimal as possible. It helped with the transfer of items from the kitchen to the dining room, and also aided in lessening the incredible messiness of smashing the two rooms together. It hit me though, that my kitchen, despite it's minimalism, was still sorely in need of organization. I was never able to do a great job keeping everything tidy or grouped because I was lacking in good storage. I've had exactly two overhead cabinets, one trio of small drawers, and a revolving corner cabinet. I could never store anything under the kitchen sink because the bottom had rotted out of the cabinet long ago. Many in the minimalism crowd have cried:  "Don't organise! Minimize!" and for the most part, I heartily agree. But at some point, you have to organise. I thought about this fact a lot in the beginning of my minimalist journey, in part because I have always liked organizing. I wasn't sure what our house would look like once I was finished (mostly) with minimizing so the question of organizing anything was in the future. I was a bit of a fantasist, half hoping our collective belongings would be so skeletal as to not need organising, but I don't think I really believed that would happen. And so it hasn't. I'm not too disappointed; I knew it was unrealistic.

    I have definitely seen some people's possessions (usually the "counters," as I call them) who have so little that there is no need for organizing. I have yet to see a family that can do without it. Families with small children will always have enough to organize because of their need for some toys, art supplies, extra sheets and towels (yeah, babies and youngsters spew often, from every orifice) books, and other sundry items. I feel that now, especially after my kitchen is done, I'll be entering a new phase where organizing will take priority over minimizing simply because most of what we have left, we'll be keeping. I might not be totally happy about it, but as it's not my things, and I adamantly believe in not tampering with other people's belongings, it will have to do for now. Of course, I expect that at some point, the strain of keeping loads of ephemera, childhood knick-knacks, unwearable clothes, and other items my beloved family thinks the removal of heralds the End Times, will prove too much and they'll slowly start to unclutter themselves. I intend to be a total martinet about the organization, so I doubt it will take long!

    Now, you can either tell me about how you organize, or what your kitchen would look like if you had unlimited time and funds. Or both. Either way, it will distract me from having to look at my kitchen and give me some good ideas!

 

 

 

 

 

The Snowball Effect of Shopping

 

    I know I've mentioned before that I have never been and am not now, an enthusiastic shopper. I go months and months without darkening the doors of any store that carries more than food or raw lumber. Obviously though, there comes a time when I need something other than lettuce and tofu. This time it was socks. In reality, I need more than that since I've been wearing the same jeans (washed, of course) every day for three months now, but I must have time to psyche myself up for clothes shopping since it's an impossible experience. I do enjoy some shopping occasionally though, and I have a particular weakness for kitchen items.

    It started out very innocently at T.J.Maxx, which happens to be close to my house. Too close. I went in to get the socks. Then I wandered into the home section and picked up some microfibre kitchen towels because they work so well. This snowballed into looking at the handbags for something smaller than my one and only since I don't have to carry around diapers anymore. I found the perfect little bag. When I got home I went online to read about the company (Sherpani) since I saw that they use a large percentage of recycled materials in their products. Checking them out and seeing what else they offered  gave me a serious case of the wanties, and I decided these were the bags I wanted for replacements of all my old, wornout bags. Serendipity raised it's beautiful head in that I'm actually going away this weekend and, since I don't fly, I am was sans luggage. I usually pack the girls' and my own things in reusable cloth grocery bags when we go somewhere. The Simple Man urged me to buy, like him, an ugly, cheap duffel bag from Target, but I rebelled. I went back to T.J.Maxx, hunting for more Sherpani bags, which they had. It was a good size for a day long outing with children, but not for any longer than that. So I ordered a larger bag, sized for yoga/gym or a weekend away. It seems like a lot as I'm writing this, but except for the weekend bag, I am actually replacing other items. I'm also neurotic and picky about bags; they can't be too girly, I have to be able to wear them cross body, I want to be able to clean them, and they can't be overwhelming either in size, construction, or bling. So if I seem pathetically excited about my trio of perfect bags, please excuse me.

    While I was wandering around in a bag fever, I also spied a dish rack that fits over the sink and a wasp catcher. Neither were items that I really needed, but they are useful. Every summer our house holds a convention for fruit flies no matter what I do, and I've tried everything to get rid of them except a wasp catcher, which I've heard is very affective. The dish rack I have no excuse for besides the fact that anything that expands to fit multiple sizes fascinates my feeble brain and makes me want it. All this shopping after the sock purchase was legitimized by the fact that our electric tea kettle broke, so I was also searching for a kettle. Never found just the right one, so that's still on the list.

  Clearly, just because I am practicing voluntary simplicity, frugality, and mindful consumption, doesn't mean that I automatically stop wanting things. I don't allow myself opportunities for buying often, not because I always go crazy and purchase more than I need, but because I think it's easier to pick up a small item here or there until you realize you have 27 tea light holders. It's the same premise  as with the studies on  grocery shopping, in that the more often you go, the more you buy and consequently spend. I tend to get all my needs and wants out of the way a few times a year and avoid stores the rest of the time.

Items I had a hard time ignoring, but did:

• A ceramic counter top compost container. What made me hesitate? Made in China. I thought of this recent post.

• Another tote bag. I have a problem with bags.

• Le Crueset Ramekins. Enough said.

• More glass storage containers.

• Gorgeous bamboo cutting board.

• Painted ceramic mug with silicone lid.

 

       If you're tring to go minimalist, or live a simplified lifestyle, what are your shopping patterns like?

 

 

 

 

My Core Essentials - Skin and Hair

 

  I have a very minimal hair and skin care routine. While I've never been much for primping, when I was younger I definitely fell prey to the idea that I needed cleansers,toners, body lotions, day and night moisturizers, and shampoo and conditioners. Makeup is something I've avoided, preferring to go with tinted lip gloss, and an emergency trial size of mineral powder for those occasional gag inducing blemishes, or when I think I need to look older than 12 and not bloodless.

     I am the first to admit that almost everything about my lifestyle, hair and skin, and preferences allows for simplicity. I am not employed outside my home, so there is no pressure to use cosmetics and our social life travels more along the lines of hiking and drinking tea cross legged on people's floors, so no need for it there either. I am also casual and extremely low maintenance, so my need for various products is small - for salon services it is nil. That is not to say I look like a model and wouldn't benefit from services, more that I don't care.  Finally, my skin is cantankerous and looks its best when left alone and I have straight hair. I gather from all the curly headed peeps out there that having curly hair is significantly more labour and product intensive than straight hair. In fact, when two curly heads get together and talk about their hair, they enter a realm no straight haired person can follow; it is sacred, the path is hard, and they discuss putting oil on their hair. Baffling, I know, but we lank haired people must count our blessings, we are not at war with our combs.

 

    Here are my core essentials, used daily or several times a week:

• Aritha powder for washing my hair. I've been using this for a few months now and am very impressed by how clean my hair is after washing. You may know it by its other name: soap nuts. Can be used to wash clothes and hair. Multifunctional and very inexpensive at the local Indian store.

• A peach wood comb. I had heard that wood combs  were an excellent way of distributing natural hair oils evenly and they do not scratch the scalp. I used this as an excuse to buy this comb because...well, look at it, 'tis beautiful and simple. And not plastic. Then I used it and loved it.

• A dry brush for skin. Dry brushing has a number of benefits, including encouraging your body to release toxins, stimulating your immune and lymphatic systems, and exfoliating your skin.

DryBrushing.net

The Dry Brushing Technique

• Vitamin E oil. I use this on my face. It's vitamin E oil mixed with some quality carrier oils since vit. E alone is quite sticky. It's done more for me than any high priced cruelty free moisturizer ever has. I've also used coconut oil, but it made my face break out occasionally.

• Soap. I have and will always use vegetable based soap - tallow can clog pores, plus I make it a point to only use skincare products that have no animal (flesh - sustainable bee and dairy products I'm fine with) by-products in them. Two reasons for this: I eat a plant based diet and want to keep my skincare plant based too, and the animals that have been converted for use in skin care are quite often the meat industry's leftovers: sick, diseased, downer animals, euthanized animals from shelters, and roadkill. Yes, roadkill. Even if you aren't eating a plant based diet, you might want to avoid putting this on your skin. Nothing like a good slathering of asphalt baked opossum to make those wrinkles just vanish.

Roadkill Soap Anyone?

13 Gross Ingredients Hidden in Your Beauty Products

 

• Homemade deodorant. Works as well as anything I've used from a natural foods store (never used a drugstore variety, so I can't comment on its efficacy compared to that). It is not an antiperspirant, but I'm not looking to stop sweating. Here is my recipe for deodorant:

To A Good Smelling Spring

 

• Body Lotion. I get very dry and itchy in the winter, so while I do sometimes use vitamin E oil as an allover moisturizer, I often alternate it with a lotion for hand and body. This brand, SheaMoisture, is my new favorite because several "natural" brands include ingredients that are potentially harmful and this doesn't. Smelling divine doesn't hurt either.

 

    I do occasionally use other products or items throughout the month, but these are what I use daily or frequently and I wouldn't want to get more minimal than this. I might write another post on my expanded and not as necessary "essentials."

    This is just a peek into part of my daily/weekly routine, and not a judgement on, or a gloat over those who use more than me. I'm just sharing for the sake of doing so, and I hope you feel free to comment about what your essentials are, whether you're into natural, sustainable, homemade, frugal, and minimalist or a total product fiend!

 

More Stuff? Not Really!

    I realized that I had to clarify on my last post when I said that I realized we needed more things. That's not quite accurate. When you get down to the very few basics, every piece in a room becomes an unavoidable focal point. It's made me realize how important it is to me to be living with objects that have a beauty to them. There are so few items, comparatively, in each room now, especially in common areas such as our living and dining rooms, that their incongruity or all around found-in-the-back-alleyway-ness are glaringly obvious.

    There are reasons beyond aesthetics, though. I have dust allergies as well as seasonal allergies. They seem to be getting worse; I cleaned under my toddler's bed the other day and while it had been awhile since the last dusting, I was wheezing and short of breath the rest of the day. Uncluttering has certainly been helpful in this area in that there is less to clean and it is cleaned more easily, but it can't help alone. For the first time ever, I'm viewing my house as the space of an allergy sufferer, and making my plans accordingly.

  The items I want to keep I will be making mine, changing them to fit us. Other things will simply have to be replaced. Now that I have much less to care for, there is more time and money to make the house the way we'd like. We've spent ten years buying the least expensive of everything and making do with what we had because we're frugal. Or cheap, to be honest. Call it a byproduct of having nothing while growing up, but somehow upgrading everything immediately didn't seem terribly important. So we've done other things, like paying our mortgage off 20 years early. It's not a bad trade, but it feels like it's time to make this house we own a place we like to live in. Then we'll probably move; isn't that how it usually works?

 

Yes. Messy. These are not my books, though. And I totally restrained myself from tidying so that I would not be a big faker.

 

    We still have several bookshelves full of books. I can't (or won't) reduce my own books more than I already have. I've already given away twenty good sized boxes of just my own books. The rest of them either don't belong to me, are for homeschooling the girls, or are reference books. So. That leaves us with 4 full 6 ft. high book shelves. And a lot of dust. I'm going to slowly replace these Ikea shelves, made of particle board, which seems to sag soon after heavy use, with solid wood bookshelves I can make myself.  All this uncluttering has alerted me to the fact that while I am a bibliophile, I don't want to see the books. I plan on attaching solid doors, not glass, for a calmer, less visually stimulating bookshelf rather than having 500 titles staring out at me. This was particularly brought home to me when we moved our bookshelves from our dining room/living room area to the upstairs hallway. I use to think I loved how books looked in a house, but after that, I realised I found the space more peaceful without them. As I don't think we'll ever have a house large enough for a "library" and we might one day move to a place without a long corridor for books, I think the solution I've hit upon is pretty good.

 

    The couch. I have been wanting to replace it for a long time. Eight years of motherhood as well as the aforementioned dust allergies have convinced me that slipcovers are essential. I refuse to even think about all that couch has endured. I had initially wanted a sort of daybed/couch when I started wondering if we really needed it at all. We often sit on the floor while leaning against the couch. We only have the one couch and it fits 2 adults comfortably, if they don't want to touch each other, three if that isn't an issue. My mom doesn't like sitting there because she's tiny and too dignified to be seen scrambling off of it and her feet don't touch the floor; they stick straight out because of the depth. Ha, ha. So glad I made it to an Amazonian 5 '4. The Simple Man is tall and lanky, so no delicate furniture allowed. It must have what I call "sprawling potential." I thought in lieu of the daybed we could create a sort of floor divan with pillows, but I've discarded that idea. With four of us in the house and family over for frequent casual visits, having no real furniture in our living room seems obsessive and impractical. Even though The Simple Man was willing to go along with me on this, I think it might have been more out of complete apathy for the decor process rather than enthusiasm, so instead of having to redo it when he hates it, I'm just going to stick with my original idea. Plus, I have to say that to tell older people and pregnant ladies to pull up a floor pillow seems positively suicidal. And impolite.

 

 

I think something like this, only lower to the ground and lighter coloured. Seen here.

 

 

    Finally, I think I'll be painting both these alley acquisitions with white milk paint (non-toxic!). I plan on turning the first ones panels around so the glued on fabric faces the inside and painting the bare wood with blackboard paint so the girls can draw on it with chalk. I think the contrast of the black/white will look good, and it houses our school and art supplies as well as being in the room we do school work, so the blackboard is perfect.

 

 

 

 This one was originally a child's wardrobe; we took out the hanging bar and added shelves on the right inside of it. There is a space for the television inside but the toddler always closes the door while it's on, so for now it sits on top. Our cameras, dvds and miscellaneous tech junk is in here. And I really dislike red wood, so this will be getting whitewashed also.

 

 

 

    Those are my plans for "more stuff," by which I meant different stuff, mostly. I think we're all purged out for the time being, hence the concentration on what's going to stay!

Interrupting this Hiatus . . .

    . . . to tell you that this hiatus was, in fact, unintentional. First our monitor broke. Strangely enough, there was absolutely nothing leading up to it - it was fine and then, a moment later, a nice white screen with some easter egg coloured lines running through it. Lovely.

    And then the vomiting began. Barf and blogging are not compatible since I have not had a free moment since the barfing commenced. Well, except for now while I'm allowing my children's productive and creative spirits to putrefy while they watch netflix. As usual, I have been protected from this gastrointestinal distress probably by the mercy of God (or the Universe. Or Twitter. I guess it depends on who you talk to!) because isn't it obvious that the one person in the house who can clean, cook, and wash barfy bedding and clothes without heaving should be the one who is spared? Anyway, I'm absolutely radiating happiness over my good fortune, but I have to pretend I'm at least a little glum because I don't want my family beating me over the head for being too cheerful in the face of their misery. Everyone hates that.

 

 

Some thoughts I've been having while playing washerwoman:

 

• Paring down to the point where I realize we need . . . more stuff? WTH!? Turns out when you only have one or two pieces of furniture in each room, it better damn well look good. We look like we're 6 months out from dorm living. Ahem. Also, minimalism has thrown my organizational skills out of whack and made things that previously didn't seem important really important.
  

 

• Unrelieved white. Sanatorium or calming? Methinks I'm wanting tiny bits of color about as long as I don't have to commit to anything but white.

 

Love the simplicity of this room. Found here.

 

• Valentine's Day. Meh. Good God (!) the amount of women who seem to feel like they have failed if they are single on Valentine's Day! What are we doing to our girls? As if female singleness is some kind of plague to be avoided at all costs. Must remember to stress to my children that their value isn't dependent on whether they ever find someone and have babies.

 

• My mom pointed out that it would be virtually impossible to be a practicing artist and an I-can-fit-everything-in-my-backpack minimalist unless you used your computer or your medium was very tiny. I think this is obvious, but it kind of sent me down another path of thinking. As in, minimalism is about keeping (mostly) only what you need, and some would argue you don't need art, and others would argue that you do. I'm not going to get into anything lengthy here. I think art is more important than minimalism. By far. I also think that minimalism has often, perhaps even most of the time, been introduced by some kind of art, whether it be writing or something else. Minimalism ceases to exist if no one has anything in the first place; see most of the world. So, in order for minimalism to even be important, there has to be stuff. I don't know why this is so interesting to me - but I think it's just changed my relationship with minimalism.
  

 

• Shocked by the Dervaes Institute (family) trademarking the phrase "urban homestead."  Like many other people, I'd understand if Monsanto was trying to use the term for their own purposes, or Hummer was branding one of their vehicles as perfect for the urban homestead, but the Dervaes are going after people who are ostensibly within their own community - people who practice urban gardening, run teaching courses on it, and blog about it to connect and help others. I guess it's too much to ask people of any common interest to stick together. Sad. Good luck Mr. Dervaes, on getting  your "urban homesteading" supporters to fund your dream of buying land for a remote homesteading community in South America when you're busy sending them what essentially amounts to cease and desist letters. Check these links out for more info:

http://blogs.ocweekly.com/stickaforkinit/2011/02/pasadena_family_trademarks_the.php#comment

 

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Take-Back-Urban-Home-steadings/167527713295518

 

http://www.thecrunchychicken.com/2011/02/urban-homesteaders-cease-and-desist.html

 

http://blogs.laweekly.com/squidink/2011/02/urban_homestead_drama.php

 

 

    So, I'll be back next week, just as soon as I can find where, despite me washing everything multiple times, that barf smell is still coming from. Oh, wait, I think it might be might be the sweatshirt I've had on all week while holding people's hair back while they hurl. I promise that the next time you hear from me I'll be clean!

 

 

A Fine Romance With No Quarrels

 

  Last week The Simple Man came home with this book for me. We may or may not have had the tiniest of disagreements before he left for work and he knows I love to read, so it was very sweet of him to be thinking of me even after I might have possibly refused to say goodbye and stomped all over the house that morning. And then I looked at the book and I was torn between making a contemptuous sound like, "Fie!" and being overcome with how generally awesome The Simple Man is, barring his choice of books for me. Why? Because one look at the cover made me suspicious that this book was not my cup of tea, unless I liked my tea highly predictable, saccharin, and with a side of heaving bosoms. Reading the back just confirmed it. I asked him why he bought me a romance novel and he looked surprised.

Him: Huh? I thought it was about a strong woman. I thought you liked strong women. (I'm not sure why in his mind romance and strong woman are incompatible. Must think on that.)

Me: Where are you getting this strong woman stuff from? Did you even read the back?

Him: No. (Picking up book and reading from it) Look, it says: #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling author! (He has no idea how little that means to me. If anything, it probably means I won't like it.)

Me: Can't you tell it's a romance novel from its cover?

Him: What? No - it's a little cottage. I thought you liked cottages!

    Needless to say, he would not believe me until I was forced to read out loud a passage involving a woman that looked like a Barbie, a man with a cleft chin, and contained the words lush, nuzzle, and heavy, nestled among more salacious adjectives. I think I made my point.

    Now here is what fascinates me, it might bore you though, how did I know the moment I saw it that it was a romance and he didn't? I'm guessing it's gender marketing and advertising. As an American woman, have I been so saturated with these types of messages my whole life that I'm now programmed to instantly recognise whether something geared towards women will interest me? Probably. It's the same reason that when I see pink handled household tools for women I want to weep and smash things. I know they are marketing these tools for me as a woman, and even though I reject them they do attract other buyers. There are plenty of women (and possibly men?!) to whom this kind of book speaks to immediately. Which is what that use of soft sunset colours and meta-messaging in the plot description on the back are for. The book tells them they will like it just as it told me I would not like it. I find it very interesting that The Simple Man took the book at face value, something I would not be able to do. He is either completely immune to gender marketing messages when it's not for his gender, OR it wasn't strong enough to break through his man barrier to inform him. I think it's the latter because I know he wouldn't have come home with a book depicting a couple passing out from desire for each other on the cover; that sort of advertising is bold and obvious. My book was definitely more coy and less graphic, but a romance all the same. And he knows I don't enjoy them.

    Also, I just want to say that I have nothing against romance novels. As much as I love good literature, there are times I'm tired and I just want to read something entertaining. I really enjoyed the Steig Larsson novels, but I'm not going to pretend they are great literature. Far from it, the dialogue tended towards agonizing at times. I am not judging the readers of romance novels. I don't think women who read romances are stupid or unrealistic, I think they want to escape for a short while and romance is their choice.  Me, I prefer a dead body, adventure, history, and moderate psychosis for escapism.

    All this made me think about my own buying habits. While it's clear that I avoid products that clash with my interests, it's also been obvious to me for a long time that I'm totally susceptible when it comes to packaging I like. Case in point. I spent two more dollars buying hot chocolate in this achingly adorable little bottle when I could have had the organic kind in a tin for less.

    I tell myself that the bottle is reusable and I do have plans for it, but that doesn't mitigate the affect the packaging had on me in the first place. I have a background in retail and often attended seminars during natural food conventions about advertising and marketing when I was a buyer blah blah blah and I still cannot help myself. It is powerful. I am very conservative when it comes to spending money, and I do try to remain immune to advertising and good packaging unless they fit all the qualifications for what I need and want. Mrs. Meyer's cleaning products come to mind. I find them  hard to resist  because of how they smell and the way they look on my counters. I could buy less expensive products or even make my own in some instances, but I am weak. After all this uncluttering, minimalism, simple living and/or frugalness, do you feel like you are still affected by marketing and advertising?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stash Construction

 

    This has to be a quick post because we had a foot of snow last night and already our internet has lost its pulse for hours only to be revived for probably a ridiculously short time. All I can say is that I spent all yesterday, during the icy blizzard looking at real estate in Athens, Georgia. Man, were the houses adorable. How I miss you, the South. Wait for me, as soon as I can wrangle up a good job and hog tie my man up and throw him in the moving van, I’ll be there!

    Alright, enough silliness. As I have mentioned before, as a crafty (like a fox, yo!) artistic person, I have to get a hold on my supplies, or my stash. I haven’t got a problem with anything but fabric at this moment. My pledge to myself was not that I wouldn’t buy any new fabric, since I like to make my own clothes when I can and if I need something (or it has been sent down from on high to tempt me) I will buy it. But it was that if I need to make something and I can use my stash if at all possible, I will. My ultimate goal is to be stashless. I know that this is considered a great sin in the crafter’s world, a world where countless dressers and bookshelves are turned into permanent condominiums for glorious yarns and fabrics. I find that while pretty to look at, it is completely overwhelming to me. I mean, I love wood, but I wouldn't want to have a  pile of mahogany to look at and fawn over without actually making it into something. Same with fabric. I wouldn’t mind having on hand some wonder fabric I was compelled to buy, along with a few supplies, but I don’t want to be hoarding enough fabric to whip up enough burial shrouds for the population of a small village.

     So this is my first installment of my Stash Contruction. I plan on posting items I’ve made from my stash under this category until I’m stashless. First up, keeping in mind what Miss Minimalist says about modules in my mind, I sewed some little drawstring bags for my toddler's toys. I don’t like to keep her toys in the original boxes because they often take up more space than is necessary, and they don’t hold up well. I used to use Ziploc bags, but I haven’t bough plastic bags in. . .3 or 4 years now, so I needed some other recourse. Enter the stash.

    Everything came from the stash even though aesthetically I would have much preferred linen tape for the drawstring as opposed to polyester ribbon, but ribbon is what I had. Below is what I'm trying to corral.

 

 

    So far these bags have been great. We aren't losing so many tiny pieces under the couch because they have a good place to go rather than a dump site. Also, this makes it far more difficult for the toddler to take the toy bag out and dump its entire contents on the floor like a kind of toy Armageddon and then casually walk away to play with a damn shoebox. Yes, this way she has to choose a bag and open it. So much better.

 

    I'm going to make more for my eldest's legos and I'm even thinking about doing some for their socks and underwear. I find that their drawers seem to be barfing these items up everywhere - might be handy to keep them enclosed.

    Keep warm!

 

What's to Come and a Wee Grumble

 

Grey. Grey. Grey.

    This post has been coming for awhile, but it's been cold and dark, our internet connection has been intermittent (I think the snow showers three times a week might have something to do with it) and there is more than enough Seasonal Affective Disorder to go around.

    I've been writing this blog for a year. I actually missed the anniversary of it because our internet was down much of that particular week. This didn't start out as a minimalist blog, and I don't see it as it as a one topic blog now. I have no doubt that it is obvious to readers that this blog is more in journal form at times; I'm not selling anything, I do not purport to have all the answers, and I'm far more into connecting with like-minded others with an end to being supportive and supported, and trading information and ideas, rather than audience building.

    I've always loved to write and I drifted away from daily writing after having children. Also, I've been making art in an artistic family since I was a child and would like to get back into creating. I personally love to see what artists are busy with in both art and life. What happened was I realized that for me to go beyond the life deadening cycle of laundry, dishes, and picking up other people's stuff, I had to change our lifestyle. I knew this involved less stuff; I've been familiar with  minimalism since my teens and have a deep love for the austere and uncluttered. What I didn't realize is that it was a movement. While my natural inclination for less had reawakened when I realized that our stuff was holding me hostage, this happened a short while before I came upon the minimalist movement. It was a stroke of luck to find people with similar ideas. Because I have been preoccupied with streamlining our house, that's what I've mainly blogged about this year. Now I see the end of uncluttering in sight and I feel I have a permanent love for this beautiful lifestyle; its simplicity allows us to more naturally appreciate the wonder in our lives. I cannot imagine not writing about it, but it won't be as often.

    I'm just going to be straight with everyone - I'm sewing, painting, gardening, struggling towards sustainability, and fixing up my house this year as well as thinking about many things less tangible. Once I've finished purging, I'll be focusing more on environmentalism and indulging my inner survivalist/doomer just in case it starts to rain fire one day. Hopefully I'll also be making things. Like most people who have chosen a minimalist lifestyle, I'm sure it will continue to influence many of the choices I make, but there is only so much a person can write about getting rid of belongings before they start veering off into issues that aren't about minimalism while desperately trying to make it sound as if they are actually an intergral part of minimalism. Ahem. I'm not going any further.

    And now we get to the wee grumble. I guess you could say I've become more and more disenchanted with minimalist bloggers and blogging. I don't wish to write a whole post about it, but I will say that almost all the issues that have been swirling around in my head were written about in an awesome and comprehensive post by Tanja at Minimalist Packrat. It's a must read if you're starting to sour on some aspects of the minimalist movement or could never get into it for some reason. I am unbothered by how anyone chooses to practice minimalism, whether it be with a backpack and a plane ticket or a house and a television. What I don't like is divisiveness, elititism, and nastiness. Yo! I live in Philly, we've got plenty enough of that as it is. Also, I must say that I find exclusivity really, really boring. And un-relateable. It's difficult to relate to awesome! child-free! single! hot! mindblowing! epic! sexy! nomad! cyborgs! vegan! angst! passion! all the time. If at all. Some of us are tired! cheese eating! community building! employed! content! over 25! even over 30! married to packrats! blue collar! diverse! have elderly parents! human! human! human! human! It was sort of driving me away from even wanting to write about minimalism myself, because I was questioning whether I wanted to be a minimalist, not in the sense of living simply with less, but to claim the label. I'm still not sure about that as I'm not big on labels as it is, but I feel comforted knowing there are others who are happy to title themselves minimalist without feeling they have to participate in some arbitrary rules someone else has imposed on minimalism. There will always be people who wish their "tribes" to be as homogeneous as possible, and then there are those few who are brave enough to welcome and accept those who do things differently. We learn more from those who are different than from those who feel exactly the same as we do. At least that's been my experience.

    So now you know what's in store for me and how I'm pulling myself out of a funk. A wintry, blah funk. I think things are looking up now.