Clump #7:  Send out three important letters.

True confession.  These three envelopes contain items I usually have trouble getting out in a timely manner.  A condolence card, a bill, and a car registration renewal.  All are easily put off, and then the power of the pile takes over.

And nothing is safe.  Out of sight, out of mind.  The dark vortex pulls them deep into the abyss.  I think the worst thing to see in a neglected pile of paper is a condolence card bought with the best intentions, but never sent.

But not today.  We are making progress in this household.  Time-sensitive papers out into the world, and information-sensitive paper shredded.  Now for the dark, spinning vortex of the vacuum cleaner.

Since I am making so many unflattering true confessions, I must include a few things we are doing well.  When getting out the car insurance information for the registration renewal form, I felt good about the roll of quarters my son got for me to keep in there, avoiding the “Do you have any quarters?!” moment, and the Murphy’s Law that no one ever does when parked at a coin operated meter.

This is not a picture that Martha Stewart would approve of, but to me it looks beautiful.  Thinking ahead!  Yay!

One photo from the natural world.  This leaf made its way into our house on the plastic bag the newspaper was in.  I had to take a moment and marvel at the elegant design.  There must be a gazillion of them outside, but I needed to take a closer look at one to appreciate them at all.

Clump #5:  Clear out the pile of paper in the PEACE bag.

Someone asked me whether the photo in the heading of this blog was staged.  The answer is a sad but definite No.  The pile of papers, interspersed with books and magazines imploring me to organize my house and clear the clutter, was all-too real.  Actually the real picture looked worse; the format of the heading cut off the top of the pile.

This photo was not staged, either, and shares the same funny and sad aspect.  A bag (Freudian slip, I just typed gag) featuring the word PEACE, filled with mostly trash, surrounded by chaos.  This is really the belly of the beast in my organizational challenge.  Piles of paper that I sweep together when company is coming, telling myself I’ll retrieve and sort through them the next day … but that next day almost never comes.

Well one of those days did come yesterday.  I sifted through the bag, and a small measure of PEACE reigned in that corner of our world.  Pictured is what was left: items to save, file, or consult with someone else in our family about.  The rest was put in a bag to recycle.

And, Oh yes, is it possible to have a pile of paper that doesn’t include something beseeching me to get rid of the clutter?  The irony is that all those wonderful articles become part of the clutter!

Clump #6:  Take back owl given to younger daughter for Christmas.

Awww!  I’m making this much more heart-wrenching than it needs to be.  Why did I have to take a picture of Owlie (now I’ve named him) (and assigned a gender) looking like the family pet in the back of the car.  The fact is, I could tell our younger daughter did not care enough about this gift, and therefore it was a gift of clutter.  Sorry, sad but true (which is turning out to be the theme of this post).  On a happier note, I got the mission accomplished before the cut-off date for after-Christmas returns.

This should mitigate the sadness a bit … the owl she wanted to keep.  The fact that owls were everywhere I shopped this year (indeed, I read they are “in” now), combined with the fact that the mascot for our younger daughter’s new school is an owl, made for many tempting owl purchases.  I really exercised a lot of self-restraint, but weakened for Owlie.  I had a sinking suspicion that it wasn’t the right gift for the girl, but I was encouraged by well-meaning friends.  Lesson learned: be true to your inner wisdom … like an owl.

 

 

Clump #4:  Take piles of old linens to Good Will and SPCA.

The drop-off door at our Good Will.  I hope the dalmatian sheets will make someone else happy.  Boo-hoo!  I also hope I don’t get a reputation for being a weirdo by taking photos of my donations.

I remembered that the animal shelter is always in need of old towels (bedding?).  Pocahontas, pictured in yesterday’s post, will feel at home helping animals.  I couldn’t help taking another photo of a donation … one of the Ninja Turtles was giving me a high five, as well as he could without hands.  Funny how many years we’ve had this turtle towel (officially our son’s, but beloved by his sisters, too), and almost all that time it’s had a hole in it from being chewed by a dog that lived next door.  Now, possibly, another dog will have at it.

A moment of deep gratitude for people who gave us incredible cookies at Christmas.  This was one (actually the last one, long ago consumed) of a many-splendored (spell check is telling me that is not a word — I’m going with it anyway) variety of cookies given to us by dear friends.  I’m so glad I got a shot of it before it  disappeared.  There’s something so dear about her  … a cookie with attitude!

And then there are these monstrosities of mmmm-iness!  (Another new word.)  A colleague of my husband’s sent us a box of cookies from a place in New York called Levain Bakery.  Incredible.  This is what they look like, but these, pictured,  were actually baked by our younger daughter from a recipe found when googling Levain Bakery Recipe.  Yummah!!  We are hooked.

This is the link to the bakery:  Road trip anyone?

http://www.levainbakery.com/

And here is the cookie recipe:

http://www.littlebittybakes.com/2012/07/levain-bakery-chocolate-chip-walnut-cookies/

 

 

 

Clump #3:  Clear out laundry basket full of hard-to-confront linens.

The remains from a previous reaming out of the linen closet.  Uggh!  Talk about stuck energy.  And right next to my bed, no less.  Please don’t judge me!

O.K., here’s the root of the problem.  Obvious outgrown bed sheets.  My children have all left the nest, and these are not even good enough to save for grandchildren (if/when they should arrive).  Why are they still claiming a place in my house?  Just look at that face.  We had a very intense relationship with dalmatians and Disney … so  hard to part with.  Hanging on to my children’s youth, maybe?

Here’s more of the same, only from babyhood and before.  Three handmade quilts.  Two for our children, made by a great aunt.  The other was a wedding quilt from my husband’s parents, too delicate to use.

Another relic, a chair cushion from my older daughter’s jungle theme.  Too many good memories to toss, but what to do with it?

Here it is: my best household tip.  I found it in a magazine long ago, and it is so easy and effective.  Wrap each set of sheets in one pillow case, like an envelope.  This revolutionized my linen closet to the point that I almost never have to search for missing pieces, or do any reorganizing.  Does it look gorgeous?  No, but I can put my hands on just what I need when I need it.  A no-brainer.

On the lower shelf is the clean, folded duvet from yesterday’s post, cuddled up with the warm weather duvet cover!

And here is The best baby gift.  My mother-in-law made these for our three kids when they each were born.  Simple.  Soft.  Wonderful.  She took a piece of flannel (I measured this one, and it is about 39 x 42″), turned over the edges, and sewed a blanket stitch all around.  Sorry for the poor lighting.

Here’s a close-up.  These blankets became the favorites, getting softer with each wash, guaranteed to sooth.   Eventually they became the best open-ended play-enhancer (can’t think of a better word!).  They could serve as a tent, a long gown, a long veil, ….  the possibilities were endless.

I’m busting this mound of sentiment-steeped clutter.  First, one pile to be put back.  These could still be used in our current life by the current occupants of our house.

I’m taking these down to the basement.  No need to keep them in the linen closet, and I’m not about to give them away.  Did you know Ziploc made bags this large?  Here’s another great household tip: always store things in clear containers.  The rewards become self-evident over and over in time.

These I will part with.  Good Will, tomorrow they will be yours.  What a dismal picture.  They are ready to go.  (I guess I am the ready one.  Finally.)

Fly away, lovely linens.  You have served us well!

Clump #2:  Clear and clean warm weather duvet.

It all started when the woman at the local dry cleaning store refused to clean our feather duvet, saying “I don’t clean anything with feathers.”  This, from the indomitable lady who is usually up for any cleaning challenge.  If she wouldn’t, who was I to attempt it?  The darn thing languished in laundry purgatory, a floor cloud waiting to, but never evaporating, a to-do list item incessantly lapping at our feet.  Warm weather is a distant memory here in the North East.  It’s been a while.

Salvation at last: a cleaner specifically made for down-filled gear.  Eureka!  I spotted it at Eastern Mountain Sports store.  It’s a non-detergent cleaner that’s supposed to restore loft and maintain the natural oils of the feathers.  Hurray!  Duvet cloud away!

On a considerably more interesting note, I realized today that we live in the middle of yin and yang in Pennsylvania.  Today’s Philadelphia Inquirer had generous coverage of the annual New Year’s Day Mummer’s Parade.  Where else do grown men, bedecked in sparkles and feathers compete to out-bedazzle each other?  An accompanying  article about the return of a group of drag queens to the event, with a necessary explanation of the difference between drag queens and other cross-dressing groups in the parade, made me smile.

Then there was an article about a controversial new “reality?” show called Amish Mafia.  I guess it’s a great draw to  feel morally superior to Amish people.  Whether its premise is true or not, reading both stories made me realize how we live almost  equidistant from the wild and wooly city one one side, and the plain, primitive Amish farm lands on the other, east and west.  Two extremes.  I felt new appreciation for the middle ground.

I just read an article on The Daily Beast website which made me feel like Charlie Brown in the wonderful A Charlie Brown Christmas.  Lucy attempts to diagnose Charlie Brown’s holiday malaise by naming a few types of phobias, because “recognizing you have a problem is the first step to solving it.”  She arrives at panophobia (pronouncing it pantophobia), the fear of everything. Charlie Brown screams “THAT’S IT!” which sends Lucy flipping off her stool.  Here’s my “THAT’S IT!”: a reality-check to avoid unrealistic New Year’s resolutions.   http://www.thedailybeast.com/newsweek/2012/12/16/oliver-burkeman-on-failed-new-year-s-resolutions.html

I hereby resolve to make only repeated, tiny accomplishments, “small wins,” over the course of this year, with no specific outcome in mind.  Clump number one, today, is restarting this blog … not so small to me, as I have been searching for “the perfect day” to overcome my techno-phobia and really begin.

Another cartoon character, Dustin, made me recognize myself and the fallacy of “the perfect day,” with this New Year’s Eve strip.     (http://www.arcamax.com/thefunnies/dustin/s-1255059):

lMany people are superstitious about the number 13.  Long ago I was hired for a job on Friday the 13th, which I took as a sign that 13 is my lucky number … it doesn’t hurt to expect good things.

I’m with you Dustin!

Oh, the magical thinking … so seductive but destructive!

Sorry, Dustin, this is where we part ways.  As imperfect as these posts might be, I’m starting now.  Really.