January 8, 2014 by clumpaday

30 Little Minutes

Clump #136: Just 30 minutes of paper.

Spending time in a hospital with my mom lately, I have watched a great deal of daytime television. I don’t recommend it. In the waiting area today, I noticed a metal plaque specifying “offensive” shows that should not be watched on the hospital TV, specifically Jerry Springer and Maury. It kind of amazed me that a metal plaque was ordered and was bolted to the wall for this purpose. Would they have to update it for new offensive shows to come? But I did come away with a good tip from Hoda and Kathie Lee, which must have been part of The Today Show. They were interviewing a man named Tommy Barnett who wrote a book called The Power of a Half Hour: Take Back Your Life Thirty Minutes at a Time.

I thought this might be a new way to look at my dreaded paper piles: a clump of a half-hour, instead of the physical pile. I have been avoiding the piles like crazy. I feel as if I’ll be swallowed up by the overwhelming number of decisions. So I set the timer for 30 minutes and dove into the stuff that has been neglected on the flat surfaces in the kitchen.

I can report that the finite-ness of the half hour made a huge difference. It freed me from the quicksand-like fear I have of paper clutter. Left to right, below: lovely holiday cards that filtered in recently; shred pile; and recycle pile. (Believe you can …)

I decree it is not too late to put cards in the tree-shaped holder and think warm thoughts about the people who sent them.

What’s left? Catalogs I’ll love to savor, off the clock, and a pile that needs husband consultation.

We could most likely get through it in less than a half hour.

Warm wishes for actual warmth in your world on this cold, cold day.

January 6, 2014 by clumpaday

Life is Short

Clump #135: Return to the world of blogging.

My mom recently suffered a health crisis, so I have spent the last couple of days in a hospital. Most importantly, for now, she seems improved. Thank you to all the compassionate and generous people who have been holding her and us in the Light.

Below is the coffee cup for Caribou Coffee served in the hospital cafeteria. Thanks, Caribou, for your deep slogan, though a hospital setting is lesson enough in the shortness of life.

I was thinking of a dear friend whose mother, after her own health crisis, said “I never realized how much we loved each other.” Sometimes it takes the specter of loss to awaken us to what we have.

This was the view of the sunset last night from my car window on the way home from the hospital.

In the light of profound emotions, this blog and clumping fell away completely. But it’s good to be back.

January 3, 2014 by clumpaday

Storm-Related Clumps

Clump #134: Shovel big snow.

The brave little tree of yesterday’s post was no match for Storm Hercules.

I confess to loving snow days. I’m like a young kid when everything is shut down and we have to stay put.

Thanks to my younger daughter, we got through the Herculean task:

With moral support from a neighbor’s dog.

Wasn’t it only yesterday that the clumps were made of leaves?

My older daughter questioned whether shoveling snow qualified as a Clump A Day clump. She did have a point. I will mull over a workable definition after resting my tender back and drinking copious amounts of tea.

In the meantime, I hope you are warm, safe, and enjoying a respite from the daily grind.

January 2, 2014December 23, 2014 by clumpaday

Lights Off, Snow On

Clump #133: Take down outdoor Christmas lights.

Now that I’m in year two of Clump A Day, I find myself wondering, have I changed? Has this enterprise been worthwhile? Today’s clump offers a little hope: according to this blog, I know that last year I was taking down Christmas lights at the same time I was putting up a Valentine’s Day wreath. Thanks to my husband’s forethought, we took them down today, just before the big snowstorm blew into town.

Our high-tech method to reach the lights up high:

We wrap the strings of lights on rolled-up magazines or catalogs. The timer (lower right) and three-pronged plug are thrown in the same box. I can’t tell you how many times those things have gotten separated from the lights … enough to drive a person crazy! A big success in a tiny little action.

Our little tree from the forty percent off sale for procrastinators:

And here it is just minutes ago, naturally decorated with the promised snow (we planned ahead! we did it!):

In other news, the most fashionable goose in Strasburg, PA was bundled up for the storm. Possibly the first piece in the avian couture line to have arms/hands/wing tips?

I was agog. Our family doing something proactively, and now this … what next?

January 2, 2014January 2, 2014 by clumpaday

One Year Anniversary of Clump A Day

Clump #132: Clear out old newspapers.

In the rush, rush, crush of the holidays I didn’t have time for reading the newspaper, something I’m normally addicted to. So going through this pile quickly was difficult. I couldn’t peruse each section the way I normally do, but off they go into the recycling. Here’s the thing: news should be new.

On a brighter note, Hey! This is the one-year anniversary of this here blog!! I’m imagining Clump A Day-type confetti:

A ball drop:

Dancing (don’t these trees look like they are dancing, like the three graces?):

And bubbles!

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has been supporting me in spirit through all the clumps.

You can not imagine how much it has meant to me!

January 1, 2014 by clumpaday

Trivial But Weighty

I’ve been ruminating some more about why, with all my early planning of holiday tasks, I still felt like I was hit by a truck in the final stretch of Christmas. With most of my family and friends, I know my budget, find an item, and call it a gift. But when it comes to shopping for my kids, there seems never to be an end to the list of potential gifts. I know I’m responsible for drawing the line, but I feel like I’m never done. Here’s a story to illustrate:

As mentioned earlier, one of the traditional stocking stuffers my kids can expect is a small box of Ticonderoga pencils. Something about having plenty of pencils makes me, as a mother, happy and my kids, if not happy, then well-equipped. There were only three boxes in the store when I was there to print the holiday newsletter — fine, because only three stockings would be hung by the fire with care this year (our two daughters and our youngest niece). I was being very careful about not bulking up the bunch of presents to send overseas with my son’s friends, so I thought, “Okay, this year he won’t have the pencils.” But I just couldn’t let it go. “They’re not very large, or heavy,” I reasoned. “Does he even have a pencil sharpener there?” “They’re only pencils, I’m sure they have them in Norway.” “And the kids are probably humoring me by enjoying the gift.” “But it’s our tradition, and he’s away from home for the first Christmas in his life.” “I’m such a basket case for obsessing about such a trivial thing!” “Stop it!” I finally made another trip to an office supply store to get the darn things, and a small, plastic sharpener, to boot. (Not so “easy” after all.)

Here is a picture taken earlier this season, when the snow was fresh and fluffy. I felt like the gremlin with way too much on my mind:

Christmas finally came and went, and the friends brought my son’s gifts to Norway. The TSA did force them to unwrap them (all my work!). I received a very nice thank you email from our son, with the final sentence, “I was also maybe a little too excited about the pencil sharpener, since I’ve been going between increasingly dull pencils I collected.”

Ah, instinct won over reason, and all was well. I will never be a Martha Stewart, with an iron-clad organizational plan. But that’s A Good Thing for me.

Warmest wishes to you for ringing in the New Year with love and good cheer!

December 30, 2013 by clumpaday

A Look Back At My Holiday Challenge

My older daughter offered the suggestion that I take a temporary break from my daily clump to reflect upon my holiday challenge. It was the “No-Sweat November for a Stress-Free December: Operation Enjoy Christmas Challenge.” (As my son pointed out, a title with the bombastic tone of a segment on The Colbert Report.)

In short, challenging myself to start on the Christmas to-do list earlier than usual helped me a great deal. But I was overly optimistic in my visions of a sugar-plum-laden December. I imagined visiting Longwood Gardens (pictured below) for all their festive holiday events. Didn’t happen once. Plays, shows, The Nutcracker Ballet? Nope.

I did manage a few small victories, which would have been unthinkable in previous years. I hosted a holiday get together for the neighborhood ladies. I snuck off to see It’s A Wonderful Life, in a theater, which was, indeed, wonderful. I took advantage of “Cyber Monday” and got some good deals with free shipping. I was finally able to order one gift that, for so many years, had eluded my grasp because I would always remember it too late: a plaque with a picture of my father-in-law and some inspiring words my husband wrote on the occasion of his death. For the first time ever (?) friends and family received our Christmas cards before Christmas.

I even had time to have a tee-shirt made for all our Christmas morning revelers. It was a design we fell in love with this summer in Portland, Maine. The tee-shirt maker, Ferdinand, made up the sizes I needed, just right for our musical gang.

But Christmas morning was, again, a time of bone-crushing exhaustion. In sad, cynical opposition to the heart-warming coda to How The Grinch Stole Christmas, the exhaustion came even with starting early … it came with wrapping presents in November … it came with getting the cards ordered and written before the 24th …

Yesterday my husband had me watch the season three finale of Louie, the dark comedy by the brilliant comedian, Louis C.K. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. It’s a surreal depiction of a parent’s quest to provide the perfect Christmas, and the dreamlike aftermath.

Here is a clip, the doll scene, in which he releases a sob that I experienced viscerally.

And now, just like Louie, all I want to do is sleep.

December 29, 2013December 29, 2013 by clumpaday

Drowning in Paper

Clump #131: Clear second paper pile from bedroom closet.

Another pile bites the dust … or shakes it off in the recycling bag. I tried to glean as much as I could from the magazine on top, Real Simple (funny how yesterday’s pile had another issue of the same magazine on top), before tossing it out.

But amidst all the great tips, fashion, and recipes, the best part, for me, was this quote in the table of contents:

I love the length of the to-do list pictured above. My master Christmas list was in this clump of paper. I feel like playing taps on a bugle in honor of its service to me.

A gloomy, rainy, gray day here. Good for going through neglected newspapers and magazines and letting the tea kettle flow. Pretty sad that our guests are dropping away like leaves from the poinsettia.

There is a certain magic to a rainy day.

A reminder to take the rain with the sun.

Weather, like Christmas, is not perfectly managed.

December 28, 2013 by clumpaday

The Paper Trail

Clump # 130: Start clearing out paper piles in closet.

I, or really our house, fell victim to my chronic paper-shuffle-before-company-comes syndrome. Again. Before our Christmas festivities I moved the piles from the study to our bedroom closet … my anxiety closet. If I were to give tips for hopeless housekeepers, like myself, I would say: make sure a beautiful magazine cover is on top of your anxiety closet pile. So much more enjoyable to slip and stumble over orchids and smooth river stones, emblazoned with the words, “The Balanced Life.”

This project might take a few days of concerted effort. Here is a calendar for 2013. We left off in April. I recycled the pages and the plastic holder.

One spot of clearness. A tiny bit of balance restored.

Possibly because I had paper on the brain today, I was conscious of trees, specifically evergreens. This little sprout stole my heart. It seemed in need of protection, like the Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

And, below, a dress I passed by in a consignment store, giving new meaning to the phrase “all decked out.”

I had to go in, just to try for a better shot. Here’s the dress’s view of the street:

As I passed by trees in this more urban environment, I felt a sense of awe for their endurance, and again, protectiveness …

while at the same time plotting a virtual clear-cutting of the forest of paper in my closet.

December 28, 2013 by clumpaday

Winter Wonders

Clump #129: Assemble and wrap birthday presents.

Around here, present-giving doesn’t end after December 25th. My younger daughter’s birthday follows quickly on the heels of Christmas … our little Christmas angel. When I was pregnant and due around this time, many people told me all sorts of negative anecdotes about having a birthday on or near Christmas, but she has never seemed to suffer. Maybe because we have always celebrated her half-birthday in June with my husband’s side of the family.

This is a milestone year for us. We will no longer have teenagers in our immediate family. Our younger daughter made teenager-hood too enjoyable a stage, so I’m feeling unexpected sadness …

but our holiday house guests are helping to distract me from it. Here is a snippet of conversation from this morning as I cleared newspapers off of the table to set up for breakfast:

Putting the papers on the chair, below, I said, “Another clump is born.” My older daughter responded, “Welcome to the world little clump.” “Like an acorn growing into a mighty oak,” I replied. My older sister added, “Soon you will be blog-worthy!”

It was a good day to get the clumps out of my head by taking a walk with my husband and niece.

I have the annoying habit of needing to stop frequently to take photos, so it was good to have a nice niece along to keep my husband company while I caught up.

I was impressed by the green popping up through a dusting of snow.

Just when I think I won’t find any beauty in the dull-colored world of winter …

it’s as if Mother Nature dares me not to be swept away by lovely sights.

Beauty in the dead of winter, like sweetness in the fury of adolescence.

Clump A Day

postcards from the clogosphere

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