It’s every woman’s lament at one point or another. But this time, it’s not about my clothes, and it’s true. I feel a little bit ridiculous. No… a lot ridiculous, ever thinking we were in good shape. Over thinking I had everything under control, over how many trips I took to the thrift store. I’ve decided the thrift store visits were my philanthropy for this year. And even after all of the prep work, I’m shocked at how much stuff we still have that has no place to live. Our coach looks like something from the television show “Hoarders.”
To use one of George W. Bush’s best words, “I think we have sorely misunderestimated how much stuff we could bring!”
There are only twelve, count ’em, twelve days left until our big move! Continue Reading
In between the packed and stacked boxes, the work piled on both of our desks, and the boxes yet-to-be-packed–only 3 weeks to the move–things are messy. I pause and survey my kingdom. It’s disorganized, and I am dismayed, but I also have faith in Nietzsche’s saying, “Out of chaos comes order.” Continue Reading
Used throughout Europe as a way to cleanse the palate between courses, intermezzos are usually a light and refreshing treat. Today was my Intermezzo. I took a much needed break from sorting what to keep, what to let go of, what to sell, and doing the work to get it where it will be seen–and bought–by someone who will enjoy it. A break from separating my emotions from my “things,” be it clothing, a stereo cabinet, or a set of martini glasses.
A dear friend invited me to meet him for lunch at a chic little French restaurant. I felt a momentary twinge of guilt for abandoning my post… then, like any sane woman would, I gladly accepted!
From the time I was quite young and first read The Boxcar Children, the idea of living a very small life has appealed to me. Not small in the sense of unadventurous, safe, invisible… but small as in square footage. I’ve been a tiny house fan since the early 50’s!
A little back-story: In March, 2015, we sold our 3,500-square-foot home with a pool and large private yard. We had tired of being house-keepers. We downsized to a lovely 1,200-square-foot leased condo. Last July we downsized again, this time to our 900-square-foot apartment. Our motor home trip in April from Austin to Key West and points in-between, was all it took for us to commit to going “full-time” and downsizing into our 300-square-foot motor home. Continue Reading
After every other great vacation I have always been glad to get home. Glad to sleep in my own bed and see all of my “stuff” again. This time was different. It became obvious when we chose to stay another day in Houston, and then chose to spend the night at Lake Georgetown, rather than going directly to our RV garage and unloading from there… We were both stalling.
If words have power (they do) and our thoughts create (they do) then we should pay much more attention to both. Therefore I think it’s high time we change our verbiage. We label almost everything as a war or a fight, and because of our language, we do battle, daily. There is a war on drugs, a war on poverty, a war on women, a war against obesity and a war on crime. We fight heart disease. We fight illiteracy. We fight cancer. We fight the traffic. Continue Reading
I am supposed to be doing my taxes so I can send them to the accountant, today. I meant to have them done long before now, but we’re leaving for our trip in less than 72 hours… Now I have to get a shopping list compiled… And hem a sweet pair of lounge pants… And pack my clothes and all of the “stuff” we’ll need on the RV. We’ve joked about how much work it is to go play. Today it doesn’t seem very funny.
And… the taxes.
For two hours, I’ve been trying to get to my desk to work on my book, but first, there were things that had to be done. I walk around the house, barefoot, most of the time, so I can feel when the floor is dirty more than I can see it on this espresso-colored wood. This morning I felt it was particularly crumby from last night’s cornbread, so I had to sweep. And, I couldn’t leave the breakfast dishes in the sink, so I had do them, and the bed… Usually I make it the minute I get out of it, but this morning I needed coffee more than I needed a neat bed. Now I’m rushing to accomplish everything so I can sit down and write.
“What would happen if you just left that stuff until later,” you ask? Well, nothing, except I know I can’t–insert ‘won’t‘–do that. I’d worry about what was undone. Continue Reading
From the moment I learned of the Royal Canadian Mounties–thanks to Dudley Do-Right when I was eight–I’ve loved the whole idea of Canada. After my first taste of Canadian Whiskey–at age 16–and more so now after my first through-the-mail drug order at age 65, I’ve got maple leaves in my eyes. The icing on the cake is their hunky Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau.
But, I digress… this is about the drugs. Legal ones. Hormones.