Let me explain. No, there is too much.

Let me sum up.

Maybe.

In lieu of the other blog I have yet to write which would detail the spectacular derailment of my marriage, I feel I should at least attempt to explain my absence from the blogosphere. But that would involve a degree of understanding that I have yet to achieve.

I am sitting in my teeny-weeny 2 bedroom attic apartment, but it is mine and it is peaceful. We are sharing custody of the kids and honestly, it's too damn quiet when they aren't here. And when I look at the home page which says "My endeavor for 2009 is to live smaller" the irony is not lost on me...

I am sitting on a glorious wingback chair, left for me by a friend of a friend (and fellow traveler) who heard I was trying to amass a household. I never even got to meet her, just picked up the chair off the curb with a note saying "This is my Pay-It-Forward. God bless you." The dinette set and dresser are from my friend Kath who is operating a Home for Wayward Furniture and swears that I am doing her a favor. Her sainted mother sent me sheets, towels, cookies, and a sweet note that made me cry. From Pam, sundry essentials I hadn't spared a thought for, and a bed, toaster and crockpot. Jen is giving me a microwave; Nina, a coffee grinder. And the outpouring of offers has been absolutely overwhelming - I could have furnished this place three times over. And Greg and Tracey and Kath toiled mightily to move it all here. These are the times where you count your blessings in friends. So I am rich indeed... and grateful.

I got the dream job with hospice, and I start on Monday. The kids will be in afterschool programs. Between working FT, trying to keep my private practice, and single parenting at least half time, I am pretty confident that I'll no longer have the time or energy to go to 3 or 4 thrift stores in search of winter boots, which is the death knell for this vanity project of mine. Will I make an effort? Absolutely! I am still addicted to the deal, especially if it comes from atypical shopping sources. (Lovely 7 X 9 wool rug, PPL Shop, $75!) And I won't casually walk into Target and throw down $$$ for stuff that is unnecessary... because there's no room in my teeny weeny apartment for more than bare essentials.

And it's all good.

Ideas for next year...

Yes, I've fallen off the wagon (again) - I purchased new stuff at Target for the needy. I figured they had already checked out the stuff at Salvation Army and still had needs... So sue me.

I've mostly been too overwhelmed with personal trauma/drama to even write about stuff, but for the most part I am not compulsively shopping new or used stuff at present. I'm not eating or sleeping much, either. That's a whole 'nother blog. I'm trying to settle on a title that isn't hugely offensive. Perhaps I should wait until the bitterness wears off before setting out into the blogosphere? Yeah, there's an app for that.

Anyhoo-

Would I do this again? How about less as an experiment then just a new mindfulness habit when it comes to consumption? It's like the temporary diet fix vs. lasting lifestyle change. We'll see.

Scrounging around for blog ideas, I look to you, Gentle Reader(s?):

Ali is bravely suggesting not shopping - not setting foot in a store - for 2010. Does this mean her husband has to do all the shopping? Necessitate Simon Delivers or some other on-line grocery service? Wouldn't you need a maintenance dose of Target, like methadone for heroin addicts???

Bob suggests buying NOTHING from China - is that even possible? Everything from apple juice to tooth brushes to cordless phones is from China. Alternately, everything ever made probably contains Chinese ingredients - so where do you draw the line?

Molly Ellen brings up the valid point that homemade treats and other feats of domestic industry become an entitlement, and get devalued accordingly. Really - those Target cookies I bought for the kids for classroom snacks weren't a total ripoff if I factor in my time beyond slave wages? Sweet justification, that.

I'm trying to get my time valued, by the way. Two job interviews this week. Wish me luck.

Your thoughts?

Black Friday

... so named because for many retailers, it became the shopping day that would determine if they turned their year's figures to profit, a.k.a. "in the black". I think of it more as a "wear black armbands and be desolate" opportunity. A tad dramatic, I know.

For the last 5 years or so, we've embraced the Friday after Thanksgiving as "Buy Nothing Day" which is basically a counterculture response to the mall mania that marks the beginning orgy of holiday shopping. According to my in depth research (Wikipedia) Buy Nothing Day was started by Vancouver artist Ted Dave in 1992 and is now celebrated in 65 countries as a day to protest mass overconsumption.

I know there are fabulous deals, at least 3 items of each advertised low low price, in big box stores across the continent - for those willing to shake off the turkey coma and stand in line at midnite. It's a toaster people; not U2 tickets. And folks being trampled! Seems like some sort of shopping mania crossed with "wilding" mob behavior. Perhaps if they had Valium salt licks at "Guest" Services... but no, thank you.

The only time I'm a little tempted on Buy Nothing Day is for things like movies, meals out, bowling - activities, mostly. Or if I'm in serious need of a decent latte. It's interesting how much consuming is so ingrained it literally brings me up short when I can't. Try picking up the kids from school/activities without your wallet sometime; same sort of eye-opening experience. Especially when you get rear-ended by some guy and have no documentation, just a cell phone, and a bunch of people who aren't answering theirs... but that is a tale for another day.

Back from the brink,

... only to find yet another yawning chasm opening up at my feet.

There really is way too much going on in my life right now, and this project hasn't even made the top 10 in weeks, although I am still back on the wagon. (Ordering photocards from Snapfish doesn't count, does it?) As much as I'd like to dish on the Nicholas Sparks novel that has apparently taken over the plot points from my previous life, I'm thinking that's a whole 'nother blog. Perhaps one named something catchy like "Token Economy for the Emotionally Retarded"
Sigh. Don't ask. Or do; just don't expect a coherent response.

This week my friend Tracey proudly pointed out that in the 9 years I've known her, I am now seeing her debt free for the first time ever. Awesome accomplishment, that. She says that buying second hand and being much more careful about what she purchases has been a huge help. That, and her ever-loving husband Greg did some generous debt amnesty. Yay team!

Meanwhile - I applied for a job at hospice, well-recommended, perfectly qualified, and I rocked the interview. And found out Thursday I didn't get it, as they went for "a current Fairview employee." How does one ever get a foot in that particular door? Gotta say the door in the face program doesn't exactly encourage unbridled optimism. So now, I'm applying for anything and everything in the hopes that I may land a job that will eventually be full time, permanent, and with benefits. It's like the Holy Grail, methinks. And the other pisser? I'll be lucky to be hired at the wages I was making when I quit FT employment 5 years ago. And the inflation in these past 5 years means it doesn't exactly go as far... I'm pretty discouraged. I know, I know - I was lucky to stay home and raise my kids for these 5 years. I just didn't realize that I'd constantly be hamstrung by those missing years. Latest stats: 10% loss of lifetime wages for each two years at home. That would give me 20-25% less earnings over the span of my career. AAaaargh.

Anyhow - I've been a little scant on columns, but mostly absent is my enthusiasm. Here's what Ali has to say about it.


Ali - October 21 at 7:58pm
okI think yr going lukewarm on yr blog b/c yr not getting enough feedbk from yr readersyou are inspiring us along with generally edifying & entertaining toorefocus & keep it upcall me 4 coffee if u need sum new material love, al

So, Gentle (somewhat addled) Readers - whaddya say? How have you tried to change your consumption patterns and why? What have you noticed is easy to let go of? What changes are you resisting and why?

Do give me a few examples, and I'll try to pull together a coherent summary.

I do have a few old & moldy columns to lay out there. Please save us all from that particular fate and drop a line or two, with feedback or suggestions.

Thanks heaps.

Guest column from Molly Ellen

Rather than flail at the keyboard and try unsuccessfully to marshal my thoughts into a semblance of an entry, we'll hear from my friend Molly Ellen:




Subject: Tea Party and thinking about your blog...

A few weeks ago, I held a tea party for my daughter's fifth birthday. She and 11 of her closest friends had a fantastic time. Planning the party really got me thinking about second hand 'stuff.'

We know I'm not following the buying only used items as you are, but I generally try to spend wisely and not get sucked in to over-the-top trends. I did buy a few pink plastic tablecloths, craft supplies for the young ladies to each make their own crown, and best of all feather boas for each guest (found online at http://www.facebook.com/l/f7cec;halohaven.com). But since it was a tea party, I really felt we needed cups and saucers. Having been raised as a tea drinker at a very young age by my dear Irish Grandmother, these were a necessity. Gram would sooner drink her tea out of her shoe than a paper cup.

I have a collection of tea cups & saucers that was left to me by Gram and quite a few that I've added on my own. Selfishly, I wasn't sure I wanted 12 five-year-olds sharing this collection just yet. I thought of purchasing a new cup & saucer for each guest, but it was cost prohibitive. Then came the AHA moment - I could buy them used. And I did. For several weeks before the party I searched thrift shops for these cups & saucers and was pleasantly surprised at my finds.

At first I felt a little odd about giving our guests a favor that had been previously enjoyed. But as I got to thinking about it, every time we leave our homes we are using "used stuff." Chances are we are not the first ones to sit at a table at a restaurant or eat of off the plates. We are not the first to push a shopping cart or play on the playground. We are not the first to sleep in the hotel bed, sit in the movie theater or ride a ride at an amusement park. You can see where this is going...

Somehow as a nation, we value new and not used. But I'm thinking that depending on the item, used can be a whole lot better. Perhaps we need to think of things as 'classic,' 'antique,' or 'vintage.'

To borrow from the Mastercard commercials from a few years back:
- paper cups left at the store -$8.00
- quality china cups and saucers for 12 - $6.00
- teaching my daughter the value of good friends, good times and a good cuppa tea - priceless.
--------------------

Values added

Gracing our living room for the last 12 years has been a piano we were storing for our friend Lisa, who left to pursue her music career in NYC. It's a little spinnet, one dead key, which we dutifully get tuned each year - but nothing fancy.

Last week Bob got a call from Lisa's brother - still in town - who was hoping the piano could grace his art gallery, now that he and his daughter are taking lessons. Last night we told L that the piano was going away, and initially she was a bit sad but seemed to take the news okay. A few minutes later, I heard sobbing from the pillow fort. She crumpled into my arms, tearfully lamenting it's her piano - it's always been here, where it belongs - and it's just not FAIR. She huddled underneath the keyboard, wrapped her arms around a leg, and cried her little heart out at the injustice of loss. It took her about an hour to calm down, but she was quiet and thoughtful all evening. At one point her tears were so pitiful Bob considered calling the guy and offering him money for us to keep the piano. I counselled against that, primarily because there will be plenty of losses in her future that we can't control or even mitigate, and that she was working through her process and it was best to wait and see.

This morning, thanks to Daylight Savings Time, the kids were up and ready for school in plenty o' time. So L had the time for a farewell concert. She managed to make "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" sound like a funeral dirge, complete with broken-hearted expression. She seemed to be more at peace with the idea we'd eventually get another piano.

At the appointed time, Lisa's brothers arrived with dolly and trailer in tow. I moved furniture out of the way, to ease the passage. I called Bob home from work to come help. And in between phone calls, I noticed some urgent conferencing going on between the brothers. Apparently, the piano was more careworn than he realized, and it wouldn't match the aesthetic of the art gallery. And would we mind keeping it?

No problem whatsoever.

Picking up the kids from school, I didn't mention anything. When L walked in to the dining room, I pointed to the piano - as she turned toward the spot, I could see her ready herself for the blow of disappointment. But there it was!

Being my daughter and full of faith in her abilities, she immediately took credit for the piano's reprieve - saying she prayed that she could keep it! I'll deal with that thorny theological issue later...

I explained to her that Lisa's brothers did come by, but it wasn't quite what they were hoping for, being a tad worn and well-loved. Much like L's all-time favorite buddy, Bear-Bear. And that to us it was a fine piano that sounds good and adds to the richness of our lives, even if it wasn't perfect. Almost having lost it, it is now all the more precious.

Time for some joyful noise.

Emotional Eating

My dad was out for a visit, in part to celebrate his 80th birthday. My sister joined us, and it was the first time we were all together for that much time in well, I don't know how long.

Emotional language in any family is unique and unfathomable, even for those of us who grew up and became fluent but somehow moved away and lost our proficiency. Our family has always expressed caring in terms of things and events. Dad worked hard, wasn't home much, but took us on our fabled cross-country roadtrips so we'd be exposed to lots of different experiences. Prior to us kids, my parents raced cars, had a sailboat, went hiking and skiing and golfing, (oh my!) I remember skiing and backpacking in the Adirondacks and working on the sailboat but not actually sailing it... I hear this is how boat ownership usually goes. Anyhow, the sportscars and sailboats eventually gave way to parochial school tuition, horseback riding lessons, and family vacations.

Part of the travel experience was trying different foods, and loving it. Honestly, it never would have occurred to me to refuse to try frog legs, shark fin soup, spicy curries etc. It probably helped that we'd drive to Toronto and have a late dinner, so it didn't matter if it was Indonesian shrimp cakes, we were hungry and rather, um, receptive. The guilt trips helped, I'm sure.

Over the years I have developed quite a few favorite foods that have become ritualized in the family dialect of Food = Love. So when my dad schedules a trip to drive out to see us, it usually starts with a shopping list. From Buffalo, the famed Fowler's sponge candy, Downey's honey butter, and Anchor Bar wing sauce. From Toronto's Finnish bakery: pirraka and loaves and loaves of pulla (cardamon egg bread dusted with almonds and sugars; known in the Barnesyard as "Grandpa toast"). From Shissler's Cheese Haus and Kennedy's BBQ in Ohio, unbelievable swiss, bacon, ham and relish. And from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, pasties.

When my Dad pulls up, there is a great production of unloading the car and all the treats. It is his offering, overspilling the freezer. He seems to enjoy the gathering of foodstuffs, the journey, almost more than the visit itself. And despite his age and his frailty, he insists on driving so he can provide the feast, made more valuable by the miles traveled. Part pilgrimage, part picnic.

Dad's hearing is poor even with the much-resisted hearing aid, and he is rather unsteady on his feet. Even though I saw him in August, I noticed how much weight he's lost and how the years seem to have caught up with him. Other than enjoying the grandkids and telling stories, our main activity during his visits is - surprise! - eating. Most of the fabulous ethnic restaurants I've tried here in the Twin Cities were suggested by Dad, as he researches the "Chowhounds" website with a vengeance. {These deserve their own entry, but for now I'll name three you must try: Bangkok Thai Deli, Gandhi Mahal, and Harry Singh's.}

The much-appreciated Minnesota Zoo gift membership was up for renewal, Dad's traditional Christmas gift to the family. In the midst of filling out the online form this morning shortly before he was leaving, my Dad announces that being 80 must be getting to him. I turned to him and was surprised to see him crying, for only the second time in our 40 years together. He said that he's always sad when it comes time to be leaving, but is much more aware that he doesn't know if he'll see any of us again. I awkwardly gave him a hug, patted his arm, offered reassurances meant to be soothing. Inwardly, I berated myself for moments of frustration I'd had with him over the week's visit. He just seemed so vulnerable and frail, walking slowly out to his car - cane in hand, new walker already stowed in the trunk, pride visibly diminished.

His parting shot? "I know you worry about me driving and wish I'd fly, but how could I bring you all the things you enjoy???"

How indeed? Happy trails, Dad.