The Joy of Less

Lately, I've been telling everyone I'm on a cleaning "bender." Pops keeps telling me not to use that word. He says the connotation is specifically for drunken binges. Like a weekend of wearing one of those hard-hats with spots for two beer cans and tubing that goes straight from can to mouth. Hmmm. I could never make that work with one of my outfits.

So while I am decidedly not riding any carnival of inebriation ... I do feel rather drunk with the desire to reduce. our. stuff.

A couple of months ago, I picked up a book at the library called The Joy of Less. I've got to tell you, I found it inspiring. Sure, the author is a bit extreme. She got rid of her bedframe so she didn't need to have night-stands and could just stick a lamp and a clock on the floor by her head. Uh, yeah. I'm soooo fine with having a bedframe and night-stand.

But, peppered throughout the book were really excellent bits of wisdom. Some of them quite logical and familiar, and others shocking. Such as ... Apparently, buying more transparent bins to "organize" junk still leaves me with stacks of prettily-boxed ... junk?? You mean, spending half a paycheck on bins might not be the solution to all organizational woes and world peace? You mean if I get rid of stuff in the bins I'll have empty bins on hand? Part of my brain just exploded a little bit.

Amongst the scattered nuggets of truth, the main thing I took from the book was to be intentional about stuff. Stuff isn't bad or evil. Stuff isn't the problem. It's the hold that it can have over us that is. This resonates so deeply with me. Does my stuff make my life more full or just fully overwhelming. I'm realizing that the "stuff" I actually want to have around me really can actually fit into at least one three categories: Do I find it truly useful? Do I find it truly meaningful? Do I find it truly beautiful? Intriguing, right?

The result for me, is utter pleasure of pawing through the house ... just little manageable bits at a time ... and determining if I use, find precious, or just love an item. And if not ... it is my joy to be done with it. Liberating, I tell you.

And get this. I have not used my label-maker, bought a bin, or strapped alcohol to my head. "Bender" or not, I think I'm becoming addicted to wanting less and truly loving what I possess.

Does this resonate with you, too?

There She Goes

Jane Rides Her Bike

 Today, somebody wanted to go for a bike ride. Her mama suggested we take the training wheels off. The little girl, wide eyed and be-smiled ... agreed.

Out came the wrench, off came the clackety wheels. One try, two tries, three tries go. The little girl was determined.

 And the little girl succeeded. Celebrations ensued. But not too gregariously 'cause that would be embarrassing. We're cool.

The mama watched and watched as the newly minted bicyclist rode and rode. Plans were made for cookie baking and stories to regale the family. After dinner they may then come outside to watch and cheer. Then we will give them a cookie.

Cookies are good for celebrations.

Serving up Easy Summer

As we were walking out to her patio for a late-afternoon chat, my Mamasita offered a glass of sparkle with some lime. So refreshing! Because every good idea I've ever had I have stolen from someone else ... I've now equipped myself with a case of Pellegrino and an equally large mess of limes.

The Pellegrino is chilling and I have limes wedged and ready to be squeezed. Come on over and I'll fetch you a glass.

Rare Sighting: A Family Photo!

Glacier Natl. Park, Avalance Trail

Life, On the Nose

I used to be very self-conscious about my nose. Once gone the stubby cuteness of youth, my adolescent self was not prepared for for my Italian genes to show up in full-force. In my eyes, I was the bearer of a proboscis of colossal proportions. A nose that walked before me and announced my impending arrival.

"It's very regal, Anna" my mother would say. "Roman and stately. Unique." I wasn't buying the 'regal' and 'Roman' and 'stately' were not what I wanted to embody. And really, 'unique'? Blending in was far preferable to standing out. I wanted darling, small, impish. And while you're at it, change my name to something adorable, like Heidi or Tiffany.

But now, with thirty-five just around the bend, I like my name. And I like my nose.

Perhaps it's maturity. Perhaps it's self-confidence that develops with time. Perhaps it's being the mother to a son and two beautiful young girls who may or may not inherit my features. And since this blog, ultimately, is a life-letter to my children, I want to remind them: God made you. On purpose. Fully. Down to the detail. Down to the nose. He made you unique ... and He is worthy of praise.

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, 
I know that full well. 
Psalm 139:13-14

Operation Healthy Snack

As a follow up to my healthy-snack initiative ... 'cause oh how I do need my snacks ... here is my latest munchie love. RyCrisp crackers with Laughing Cow cheese wedges (35 calories a wedge? How is that possible?) and a slice of Fuji apple atop. It's got the crunch, the sweet, and a little bit of protein.

What are you snacking on lately?

Finding a Woodland Ringlet

Wicked Good Dulche de Leche

 I heard a teen call something "wicked" the other day. It was a positive affirmation rather than a commentary on that which lacks virtue. I didn't really get it ... until last night. You see, I made something "wicked good."

A month ago or so I was in a specialty food store and picked up a $9 jar of Dulche de Leche (creamy caramel goodness). I managed to keep the drool in my mouth, but put the jar back ... 'cause $9?? Really? To my side was a lady who was apparently watching my caramel lust and commented to me: "You know, you can make that in a crockpot or something. I never done it, but my friend did and it was amazing. You should Google it." So I did.

Are you ready for this? You take a can of sweetened condensed milk (not evaporated milk!), take the label off, put the whole unopened can in the crockpot, cover it with water, set to low, and 'cook' for 10 hours. Let cool slightly before opening. Done.

Imagine my family's delight when we came home from swimming and cracked open a can of warm gooey caramel goodness! It's like magic. Is that wicked?

Good Food & No Apologies

One of the things I love best about summer is that salads can pass for main courses at dinner! Last night we had a heaping bowl of Greek Salad, corn-on-the-cob, and a steamy loaf of crusty bread. When easy and tasty come together, I am a very happy lady.

As a side note, you may be asking how I got my children to love Greek Salad. Well, I didn't. They don't actually love it, but too bad. It's good food and good for them. I figure they can get over it, eat it, and develop a willingness for new foods ... or ... they can take one "thank-you bite" and be a little hungry for the rest of the evening. Choice is up to them and I'm not going to sweat it. But complaining? That is a sure-fire ticket to an early bedtime. Bam! Mean-Mom on the prowl.

• Because-It's-Good-Greek-Salad •
Combine chopped red, green, yellow bell peppers, cucumber, kalamata olives, thinly sliced red onion, chopped oregano (or whatever fresh herb you've on hand), and feta cheese. Drizzle with olive oil, red wine vinegar, and a bit of honey. Salt and pepper to taste.