The Cube

How can anyone be happy working in a closet filled with generic black plastic office supplies? Where is the fun in that?

Well, truth be told, there ISN’T much fun in it, so a week or so ago I broke with the pack and added my own touches to make my desk feel like a space I can hang out in. I did this with thrift store finds, because who has the kind of money these days to blow on something as silly as workspace? I mean, you only sit at your desk for what, 8, 9 hours a day? Yeah, you get the point.

So, I didn’t spend very much, but it really did feel worth it. I found clay bowls with a clay toothbrush holder for under 2 bucks. The toothbrush holder now houses my pens and scissors, while one bowl holds my post-its and whiteout and the other my paperclips. They didn’t know they were going to be put to use in this setting, but none of them seems offended and that’s really all that matters.

I nearly ordered a whiteboard from Office Supply for my cube except, well, I hate whiteboards. With a passion. I think they’re hideous and therein lies the problem. I can’t have more than one or two hideous items in my peripheral view at any one time without my head exploding. So, instead I bought a biggish picture frame, mounted some cute pages of scrapbooking paper under the glass – et voila! A non-whiteboard I can be happy with, where I can write my "thought of the day" without feeling like it’s being written on a wall of a bus station ladies room.

Hope this fuels some thought for folks sitting in cube-land. Just because you’re sitting in a gray shoebox doesn’t mean you can’t surround yourself with some modicum of charm.

A Rant

I’m about to voice a rather loud and perhaps offensive-to-some opinion. I apologize if this post hurts any feelings, and by all means feel free to enlighten me if you have an opposing point of view (but please note, if you can’t keep it civil, I’ll just delete it so why bother being nasty?).

Today a friend’s daughter and her baby checked in to a homeless shelter. Now, ordinarily my heart would be breaking for this young woman and her baby. I would offer her space in my home to camp out. But, well, not this time because she WANTS to stay at the shelter. In this instance the young woman opted to move out of her mother’s home and into a shelter, calling it, “a good opportunity for,” her and for her baby.

Say what?

In what alternate reality is a homeless shelter viewed as a good opportunity? Unless you’re living in horrendous conditions, such as on the street or in a home where you’re being mistreated, a homeless shelter shouldn’t be considered a step up.

This brat isn’t being mistreated. She wasn’t thrown out onto the street, either, and her mother claims to be an advocate for the homeless. By all intents and purposes, this child grew up sheltered and spoiled, but apparently there is a program in place that if you’re “homeless” for a span of time, the state will help you move into an apartment of your own. So, basically she is stealing two beds from the shelter and using this as a means to better her situation. I mean, who wouldn’t love a brand new apartment on state dollars? And to hell with the battered women/children who literally have nothing, nowhere and no one – first come, first served, right? Let ‘em sleep in the snow, because this girl WILL get her new place.

I can’t help but hope that my tax dollars might be spent on people who actually need it, but this sure isn’t setting my mind at ease.

I guess my vision of what homeless means is different than some. I believe that if you have a family who loves you and is willing to let you stay with them, you aren’t exactly the lady pushing a shopping cart full of all her worldly possessions down Colfax. I believe that if you’re texting all your newfound “homeless” status updates on Facebook with your f*cking iPhone, you’re not “needy.” I believe that you don’t take shelter space from someone who really is in need simply because you’re too lazy/stupid/self-entitled to even try to get an actual job.

25 January, 2012 14:15

The crazy weather here is wreaking havoc on my immune system. I’ve got a cold, which I fought valiantly (or at least denied vehemently) until it was apparent that I was going to have the sniffles and a sore throat regardless of the volume of Airborne I consumed. And the best part is, when I talk my voice is reminiscent of Johnny Cash – totally in the basement. If I could play guitar, I’m pretty sure I could do a passing fair impression, except for the sneezing…

Leap List

I was watching television the other night and a commercial came on. I don’t even remember what they were advertising, but in it they talked about a "leap list." Now, I think that sounds so much less dire than "bucket list" and I will be using that term from now on whenever I describe something I want to do while I’m living. Right now, here is my Leap List:

• Retire from Corporate America and have a real, honest-to-goodness working farm that is nearly completely self-sustained AND sustainable (being self-sustained for a month isn’t quite the same as being self-sustained for a lifetime, hence the "sustainable").
• Run in a marathon and not look like a total pansy doing it.
• Learn how to milk a cow (or a goat).
• Own a hand pump for my well and also a windmill.
• Figure out how to keep the smoke from billowing back into the house when the south wind is blowing.

Short and sweet, right? I’m sure if I spend lots of time thinking about it, I can come up with more, but I don’t really have a long wish list . I’m sure this is simply because I am happy with where I am right now.

22 January, 2012 08:41

It rained some time overnight, and the fragrance in the morning air is something I have often wished I could bottle.

The rain and the air – it’s like the prairie’s gift to me.

morning rain

road to nowhere

The Great American Smoke Out

That daggoned south wind is smoking me out – it has, in fact, created an atmosphere akin to a smokehouse for the last three weekends running. If it’s difficult to see across the room, you know you’ve got a problem.

See, when we placed the chimney for the woodstove on the south side of the house, the pitch of the roof was such that there was no way to brace a taller chimney, so we never got even close to “3 feet higher than the highest point of the roof.”

I’ve read that there are turbine-type chimney caps that can keep the chimney’s draw when it’s windy, so if anyone has used such a novelty, can you please let me know if you had any luck with it? I am scared to death of heights, but I will happily (sort of) climb my butt up the ladder if I can keep from setting off the smoke alarm.

I’m really kind of tired of my hair smelling like sausage every Saturday. *sigh*

The House

She sighs each time I return, glad to hear my voice call out to her, “I’m here.” My relief is immediate – as soon as I open the door, serenity envelopes me, creating a safe cocoon that is mine until it’s time to get in my car and drive back to “reality.”

The energy here is distinctly maternal. I know the house is feminine because it would be impossible to feel so nurtured if the house were masculine. Through the years, she has never revealed her name to me, so I call her simply, “House.”

She loves me, the house. She knows I revere the strength of her walls and hold sacred the panned out places in front of the kitchen sink where a long ago woman washed dishes and babies while she looked out across the prairie.

The house isn’t MY house; if there is ownership, perhaps it is she who owns me, for surely she comforts me and brings me peace even when the world outside is a whirlwind of havoc. Like a dear friend, she offers me solace in times of trouble and shares my happiness in times of joy. Already old, she will be here to see me to my own old age one day, and when I leave this earth, she will be here waiting for the next soul seeking a home that is more than just a house.

Best Day … Best Week!

This has really been a fantastic week! You know how it is, when you get up every morning in time to work out, even if you end up spending one workout session reclaiming your clothes from the wind. You curl your hair and put on your makeup and have plenty of time to make a healthy lunch AND stop at Starbucks. You go to work and are told regularly that you are "amazing" and "wonderful" and you know that they hired the exact right person for this job because you just ROCK at it. You go to a training in another building and before driving back to work you meet up with a smart, amusing, creative and supportive galpal for pastries at the shop you both frequented entirely too frequently a few years ago. The weather is so terrific that you manage to fit in nearly 2 hours of walking in as many days.

Yeah, it’s been one of THOSE kinds of weeks. When my hair has behaved and life is moving at an even keel and everything is set to perpetually go my way. I’ve lost weight, my pants are getting baggy-ish and I pretty much love everything in my closet.

I really, really needed a week like this.

Warm

It’s a balmy 51 degrees at 7:30 this morning! I’m not complaining at all, but it IS January so 9 degrees yesterday at the same time seems somehow more normal (though far less comfortable). I don’t know what Mother Nature has been up to lately, but I’m not convinced she couldn’t use some sort of hormone therapy.

The Simple Life and a Lack of Simplicity

The wind woke me up at 5 this morning. Not a gentle breeze, but a full blown gale. I thought to myself, "Wow! That’s sure a strong sounding wind," and nestled back under the covers. A few seconds later, I recalled the 5 lines of laundry hanging outside since Sunday and hastily threw back the blankets.

See, as much as I write about the "simple life" and make it sound charming and idyllic, it’s also a LOT of work. It’s a lot of cooking dinner when you’d rather sit on the couch and order pizza. It’s a lot of feeding the critters on cold wintery mornings in sub-zero temps, even if you have the flu — and always before you’ve had a cup of coffee. It’s a lot of watering the garden and pulling weeds and accidentally touching bugs, even though it would be easier/faster/cleaner to buy stuff at the grocery store. And it’s a lot of getting out of bed at 5am to grab your laundry off the line so you don’t end up climbing the neighbor’s tree to retrieve your undies.

Yes, it’s work. I don’t always sing happy songs like Snow White sweeping the cottage floor so the dwarves come home to a blissfully spotless house. There are plenty of times the floor just doesn’t get swept and when it does, there is nearly always swearing involved. Sometimes I DO wish I could justify plugging in our dryer and letting it fluff my towels to lamb-like softness. I miss "real eggs" and there are days when it’s hard to not turn on the lamp in the chicken coop so the gals will start laying again, but Mother Nature built them with a winter break in mind, who am I to disagree with Her? So, I use fewer eggs and wish for spring and more hours of daylight.

But the tradeoff is that I’m coming ever closer to using a fairer share of the planet’s limited resources and I feel pretty good about that. I spend less which means my income stretches further and that alleviates a ton of pressure when it comes to work/life balance and actually gives me more time to spend with my family. See, it’s a trade off. You can live more simply, which nearly always means you’re going to work harder on some things, but it also means that where you expend your effort hits closer to home.