U-Haul Boxes

Ah, the wonderful sound of silence. I have but a few moments to jot down some thoughts before I embark on packing yet again. I've been out of town on a trip and just got back the night before last. Now I must begin to pack. And packing I am.

This morning as I was loading a box, I noticed on the top some very specific wording. U-Haul has been doing some interesting campaigning to re-use their boxes. Plastered on the side of every size box is "Re-use this box! Don't throw it in the trash! Save a tree!" and lots of other helpful hints about what to do with the boxes when you are done moving. I applaud them in this effort, as re-using their products might mean less profits for them, but much better for the environment. Now, back to the wording. On the top of the boxes there are 4 different little "sections" if you will, that have a little list of where the box should go when you get to your destination. The sections are titled "First Use" and then (here is the interesting part to me) "First Re-use". Not second use, but first re-use. And then Second Re-use and Third Re-use. Why not first, second, third and fourth? Why the conscious effort of the word re-use? Perhaps it is part of their campaign for you to re-use the box. And maybe people just didn't like the idea of being the 4th user of a box. After giving it some thought, I wonder how long a bunch of people sat in a meeting bickering about the wording on top of a box. How much were they paid to do that? Meanwhile, I still get a little confused when I go to write on my boxes. First use or first re-use, they look amazingly similar and are right next to each other. Wish I coulda been in on that meeting.

Clothing

Okay, I couldn't resist. The computer is not packed away and I am working my way through eons of laundry. Yes, I know, eons is a way of measuring time, but it is a very long time and I feel like I have been doing laundry forever. Which brings me to today's topic. Clothing.

I have learned in the past few years, that the least amount of clothes you can get by on is the best number to have. Keep your wardrobe simple and it will in turn simplify all sorts or laundry routines. The fewer clothes you have, the fewer loads of laundry it takes to catch up. Of course, the kids tend to run out of underwear faster, but I think they also might learn how to do their own laundry at a younger age. (Today I went through my 5 year old son's underpants bin. He had 30 pairs of underwear, and that didn't count the basket he had just brought down this morning that was in the wash. What on earth does a boy need THIRTY pairs of underwear for? I really don't know. But he does not value bringing his clothes down, because he has an endless supply of clean underpants.) I am having a very fun time paring down all the clothes to necessities and packing away only my very favorites for younger siblings. Of course it helps to know that there is only one kid I can really save clothes for.


On to amusing observation time. This morning my husband and I were doing a little perusing about a store as we were alone and that doesn't happen too much. We decided to check out a few clearance racks of these ridiculus t-shirts. One shirt had printed on the front "Made in the USA" in big letters. (Oh how cute. I guess if you honeymoon in the virgin Islands and nine months later have a baby, you can't put this shirt on your kid.) Anyhow, curiousity got the best of me. I checked the tag. Huh. Made in Ecuador. I laughed out loud in the store. And then there was the pink camo tee that had the word "Peace" on it. Is this some form of silent protest? Because surely the child wearing it have no clue as to the irony of this. Camoflouge, an invention to help hide and often protect the men and women fighting for our country, often with big guns and bullets flying, is bespeckled with a word such as "Peace". This did not make me laugh. It makes me ponder the meaning of war. So I wonder if this is simply some clothing designers protest to put on my six year old, or some idiot who switched some buttons at the print factory. Either way, it is thought provoking.

Women's Liberation and the Dress

Around here it has been hotter than a hoochie (explain that phrase to a 7 year old! Eeeck!) and I'm 7 months pregnant. One of our air conditioners broke and I'm supposed to be packing. I am one hot mama. And I'm not talking sexy hot. I am HOT. Enter the dress. I honestly have no idea what those Women's liberation girls were thinking when they wanted to wear pants like the big boys. I made myself two dresses from some yardage that I had stowed away in my sewing stuff. They are huge tent dresses, and I love them. I have air circulation built in under my clothes. It's wonderful! Pants? Oh ugh. My goodness, I'm getting to the point where I can't bend over in pants, it pinches me in weird places. I love my dress.

When we go out and I am in my dress I'm sure we get a few looks. There are a few religious sects around here that believe that women should where a dress or skirt all the time. I am not of that belief, but I sure do believe in the power of a dress. Oh my. I am not confined to pants. I am not stifling in pants. It's a heck of a lot easier to pee. And getting dressed in the morning? Oh so easy. Roll out of bed, remove night shirt, contain the twin peaks and throw on a dress. Whew. Done. That sure was easy.

Of course, I do not sing this tune in the winter, but it sure works nice for now. I am also beginning to understand the value of an apron. Those sure probably came in handy when gardening and washing dishes and all sorts of household chores.

I suppose I am old fashioned. Don't get me wrong, the Women's Lib movement did a lot for women in the aspect of just being able to work if necessary and other rights that needed to happen, but I do believe that most (not all) women would be quite content with a domestic lifestyle given the proper support. When I say support I mean financially and emotionally. As in a man who takes his responsibilties seriously as provider. And emotional support, other women. I think every woman needs a good friend and forgiving sound board.

The rat race of society is degenerating at epic proportions and it appears as though it is only going to get worse because we don't support each other as people. A society based on the sole goal of money mongering or attention getting will never thrive. It's all about people. Money will not last forever ever. The cameras will eventually break, but relationships with those we love can be nourished and loved and can grow. And offer a hand of support back in times of need. This is not true of all things.

Now I must sign off for a time, I think we are going to try to pack the desktop computer today, which means I will only be able to use the laptop, and I hate typing on the micro keyboard.

Stay good, choose the better part and love all that surrounds you. (In other words, if you don't love it, purge it. Unless it is a person. Then you gotta work on repairing that relationship if possible.)

Signing out.

Self Help books, BE GONE!

Finally, the decision to move is here. Finally, I am packing for real! Today was the first day of serious up to my neck in packing stuff day. I re-packed a lot of stuff that I packed six months ago. The most fun thing to do was to go through a box labeled "self help books" Sick, isn't it? A whole box of self help books. I'm sure you have one too. It's part of the disease. We never feel like we are good enough and are continually trying to find the perfect system to make ourselves conform to what society believes we should be functioning at. I laughed in the face of conformity today. Good-bye Stephen Covey. Good-Bye Marla Cilley. Good-Bye Julia Morgenstein. The funny thing is, the Julia Morgenstein book I had was a second copy. The first copy I sold in my yard sale last November. The book was titled "Organizing from the Inside Out." Please tell me this is somewhat amusing. I couldn't find my first copy, so ordered a second. Ummm....yah. An organizing book. I lost an organizing book.

The other books I decided appropriate for the yard sale were diet books. This is an inheritance from my mother. She loves a good diet book. My earliest memories of her bedside bookcase were all of diet books and self help books. I decided I've read enough about nutrition and health over the years that really, it all boils down to one thing: eat your vegies, eat them fresh and quit taking the third brownie. Oh, and don't forget to be active. That last part I don't have too much trouble with these days. Playing with the kids is actually getting kind of fun, when I'm not huge pregnant. Good bye diet books! I have my own way of living!

It all comes down to this realization that I can be who I want to be. I don't need a book to help me feel better, I can choose to feel better by asserting my needs and living the way I feel is best. I don't need a book to tell me some strange rules to eat my food. I am at a point where I know what makes my body feel good, and that is what I need to eat. Notice I did not say I know what tastes yummy, because if that were the case, I'd be living off chocolate soft serve smothered in chocolate jimmies (sprinkles for those of you who don't speak New England-ease) all summer and steak and cheesecake all winter. (Can we say constipation for $200 Alex?) No, I'm not stupid. I know how to eat. No, I'm not stupid for letting my house get to be a wreak. It just happened, and even though it was overwhelming at first, as I practiced giving things away and throwing things away, I have gotten much better about it. It's not so overwhelming anymore. Actually, the thought of everything I have to go through AGAIN is starting to overwhelm me. I packed my sewing stuff 3 times since January. So much for thinking I wouldn't have time to sew. And so much for thinking I had gotten rid of everything I didn't need. Would you believe I got rid of MORE stuff? My priorities have shifted, finally. I am living the life I want to live. Hopefully this can continue as I start my new life living in a place that just might drive me to the brink of insanity. We'll leave that for another post, another night.

Do yourself a favor, help yourself and ditch the self help books. You are wonderful just the way you are.

Doing the Dishes

During my teenage years I did my fair share of babysitting. When I would babysit I would get bored, so I would do the dishes. There were two main babysitting jobs that I remember the most and all the dishes I would do while I was there. Niether household had a dishwasher (well of course, except for me, the dual functioning babysitter! Duh!) and I did tons and tons and tons of dishes. Because I was bored. Some of the dishes were caked in food, and moldy. Some were hardly dirty, but I didn't know why they were stacked with the dirty ones, so I would wash them anyway. One woman I babysat for had one toddler, and her husband worked in shipping stuff and was always at sea. It was just her and the toddler. She had more silverware and big plates than my family did. In my family we had four teenagers and two parents. She had a LOT of dishes. And it seemed like they were always dirty. I would babysit a couple times a week, and I was always doing a couple sink loads. I did so many dishes that were stacks deep that I came up with a routine for it. A rhythm of the dishes. It was a beautifully orchestrated dance of dirty to clean and put away. At the time, I never understood why the mothers just LOVED me. Why they would pay me extra to do this mundane chore. I wasn't doing anything else. There was nothing on TV. The kids were being taken care of and happy and content playing. Well, now that I am older, I have dishes spilling off the counter tops and piling high, and my portable dishwasher is no longer allowed in the kitchen (remember the new floors? Yah. No more dishwasher because they don't want it scratching the floor when it is moved) I am realizing just how wonderful that must have felt to come home from work and see all the dishes done. You are welcome.

They are not the only benefactors of this service though. That was my training ground for handwashing dishes. My mother always had a dishwasher, so I never really learned how to do stacks of dishes without one until I did these babysitting jobs. The experience proved helpful these last few months. It makes me want to not have a dishwasher in my new home, so that my kids will be forced to help clean up after meals. I want them to learn how to pick up after themselves. This is a service my mother never really rendered to us. She took it upon herself to clean up after us. There were times as we got older that we were required to help with Saturday morning chores, but that was the extent of it. And it didn't happen regularly. As a result, my housekeeping skills have been atrocious. I'm improving little bit by little bit.

Here is the routine if you have a mile of dishes in your kitchen. Works best with breaks during soaking. Oh, and I forgot to add, this is with a double bowled sink. I believe if you have a single bowl, one of those "wash pans" (the square bucket things) would work for your washing sink.

First: clean out the sink you plan to wash in. Then fill with hot as you can stand it sudsy water. Fill with dishes. The closest dishes you can grab. In no particular order. If you are anal, like myself on occasion, grab all the silver (it needs to soak in super hot if you have crusties dried on there) and fill the top with glasses.

Second: Clean out your rinsing sink while the wash sink is soaking. Clean it out nice. Stack the dishes somewhere else, just don't forget about them.

Third: Wash the dishes in the washing sink and put in the rinsing sink. Put a fresh load of dirty dishes in the washing sink to soak.

Fourth: Clear out the dish drainer/drying area.

Fifth: Rinse off the dishes still sitting in the rinsing sink and place in the drying area.

Sixth: Wash dishes that are soaking, place in rinsing sink. Re-load washing sink.

Seventh: Dry and put away dishes the ones that are clean and rinsed.

Repeat the fifth through seventh steps as many times as necessary until done. Depending on how deep the stacks are and how dirty the dishes are, you may need to change the wash water. I usually take a break for no more than 10 minutes while I have some soaking. The longer you sit, the water will cool off and it is really icky to have to drain cold dirty wash water. Ew.

Good luck with your dishes!!

My Angry Afghan

I think when I am settled into my new home, I am going to start a new afghan. And whenever I feel the need to vent or am worked up about something, I am going to crochet on my angry afghan. Why? Well, there is somethings soothing about twisting yarn about itself in a manner that creates something. And if I have a specific project to take out my frustration on, then I can just give it away when it is done. Then I will not see the memories of angst that I felt while working on it. They will be gone. It will be a way of funneling my frustration into something useful. Of course, this won't work too well if I sit down to crochet and then my 3 year old starts whining about wanting a peanut butter sandwich, and the toddler starts tugging at the yarn (because heaven forbid Mom work on a project uninterrupted, especially one involving cloth or yarn, his two most favorite things in the world). And then in a couple months I'm sure the baby will train herself to wake up and start crying the minute I put my feet up. Because that's the why life is. My angry afghan will turn into a very angry afghan.