August 26, 2014 by clumpaday

Flitting from the Nest

Clump #220: Get younger daughter off to trip; day 16 of 30-day challenge.

So the clump of the day is hard to put into words. How do measure the emotional weight of getting ready and saying goodbye to a child leaving for many months in Russia? So many items checked off the list: things bought, appointments with all manner of doctors, banking and telephone details straightened out … the list continues to go on in the case of required books ordered nearly a month ago, and still nowhere to be found.

I guess the one task I will document is the repair in the leg of her pajama shorts (yes, old as the hills and pilly) that our daughter had wanted to pack, but with a gaping hole she felt self conscious about:

I realized when I found the thread to match the turquoise fabric that it was the same thread I had used to sew her Halloween costume when she was two years old. <Pang> Our older daughter was Pocahontas, and our younger daughter was Flit, Pocahontas’ hummingbird friend in the Disney film. Our son was beyond the sway of his casting-director-older sister, and went as the white Power Ranger.

Oh boy, why did I look back through the pictures to find this?! Heart pain upon heart pain! And adding maudlin to maudlin, now I just need to sew up the empty space in our lives.

August 25, 2014 by clumpaday

Scaling a Mountain of Clumps

Clump #219: Clear one pile of papers from the party runoff. Day 15 of the 30-day challenge.

Oh, the terrible feeling of backsliding on this Clump A Day journey. With guests coming to our house yesterday, I fell into the old habit of corralling all the loose papers together and shoving them into a currently unused room, in this case our older daughter’s. This room had recently become the repository of basement stuff still needing decisions and/or to be given away. A photo of the whole room would be way too embarrassing and overwhelming right now.

The loose papers on top of the plastic containers were the first to go. I have to give myself a teensy bit of credit that I did get right to it today, rather than giving way to those infamous good intentions that pave the way to hell.

I took the photo below when my husband, our son, and I were climbing Preikestolen, or Pulpit Rock, in Norway. I had serious doubts about whether I’d be able to make it. My son said, “Just take it one rock at a time,” and then we both said “A clump at a time.” I wanted to remember the exact moment.

There were sooo many rocks.

My camera battery had given way by the time we reached the top. I bought this magnet later on in our trip to remind me that, unbelievably, impossibly, I had made it there …

one rock, one step, one clump at a time.

August 24, 2014August 25, 2014 by clumpaday

Letting Go … Letting Grow

Clump #218: Ready house for bon voyage party for daughter. Day 14 of 30-day challenge.

Our daughter will soon be traveling to Russia for a school year. Yes, Russia (I’m used to having to repeat it when I tell people in person). This has been the elephant in the room, so to speak, but now the jig is up on my state of denial. We had a send-off dinner party for her this evening, which involved a whole day of preparations … too much for this tired old body, brain, and, sore fingers to detail. Our daughter worked diligently with me. As much as I appreciated her helpfulness, it was also a painful reminder of how I am going to miss her.

The photo below is not actually from today (who had time to take pictures?), but recently when we were gifted with two enormous zucchini, and she knew what to do with them.

I took the photo at top when I visited The Church of the Covenant on a trip to Boston this summer. The interior was designed by Tiffany Glass and Decorating Company. The Tiffany windows are exquisite. I was frustrated that I couldn’t get better images, but I just checked out the church’s website, and you can take a tour by way of a lovely little video here. It includes a much better view of this beautiful Madonna and Child which speaks of the longing to hold close a child forever, as unrealistic and unhealthy as that may be. Taking a deep breath.

August 23, 2014August 23, 2014 by clumpaday

Perfectly Imperfect

Clump #217: [Finally] finish clearing kitchen table. Day 13 of 30-day challenge.

This will be short but sweet. I delegated today’s clump to our younger daughter …

and now a kitchen table is reborn. Kind of a boring photo, but very exciting in person, believe me! Tea anyone?

A quote from one of the bits I clipped during my recent newspaper purge has been turning around in my head. It’s from The Philadelphia Inquirer, the “Side Show, Your Daily Dose of Gossip” (I never miss it), by the wonderful Tirdad Derakhshani: “Jeff Bridges lays it out The modern obsession with being positive blinds us to the darkness and negativity all life forms need, Jeff Bridges declares. ‘Imperfection and perfection go so hand in hand,’ the Giver star tells the Wall Street Journal, echoing his fave author, Alexander Solzhenitsyn. ‘Our dark and our light are so intertwined that by trying to push the darkness or the so-called negative aspects of our life to the side … we are preventing ourselves from the fullness of life.'” Hmm. Makes me picture the Yin-Yang symbol.

The table top’s perfection will not last long, soon to be darkened by the endless stream of clutter, but I will enjoy it thoroughly while it lasts.

August 22, 2014August 22, 2014 by clumpaday

Eye on the Prize

Clump #216: Clear out box of awards; decide what to keep and why. Day twelve of 30-day challenge.

This was a gut-wrencher. The one I couldn’t face yesterday. The box, below, was collecting dust in the basement until our younger daughter unearthed it during her recent basement-cleaning quest. The awards belong to our older daughter. I used to joke that if she liked earning ribbons so much, I would offer her a ribbon for making her bed every day … but somehow that didn’t work.

Does she need to keep them? And if yes, why? Some of them are easily dispensed with. The equivalent of participation medals. Others she worked really hard for. Obviously she doesn’t want them in her current residence, or even in her childhood room. As luck would have it, The Daily Beast today contained a thorough article on the subject, “My Loser Kid Should Get a Trophy,” by Brandy Zadrozny.

As an adult, this daughter is now learning the dangers of deriving one’s self worth from outside affirmation. We all do it to some extent or another. I wish I could give her a medal for coming to terms with that important life lesson. (Ha!)

So, okay, after a long consultation and photo documentation of the awards for posterity, these were the two worth keeping. A ribbon from an elementary school environmental contest when she was determined to solve (single-handedly) the global warming crisis, and an important academic medal. I was an abysmal student, myself. Maybe I need something to touch in order to prove to myself that a child of mine was able to defy the odds of my genetic contribution.

When I was looking back for some other photos to illustrate this post (reaching for the brass ring, above), I scanned through pictures from a recent trip to Boston and Cambridge, MA, where there was a crowd waiting to take photos with John Harvard in the Harvard Yard; a line to touch his left shoe for good luck. I googled the tradition and found out the likeness is not really John Harvard, rather a Harvard student (descended from an early president), since no pictures of J.H. existed when the statue was being made.

Another misconception is the myth that it’s a student tradition to touch his foot for good luck. I was horrified to learn from an article in The Harvard Crimson, “The Truth About John Harvard,” that the actual student tradition involves peeing on him. (I truly apologize for the second mention of pee this week.) From the article:

“Harvard may be an elite institution open only to a lucky few, yet it seems to exacerbate, rather than mollify, concerns about status. The product of this anxiety is frequent displays of contempt for the institution. We pee (figuratively) on things all the time: we skip classes, we are contemptuous of the entire education system, and we constantly bemoan the inadequacy of the social life.”

I’m just going to go now and wash my hands a few hundred more times.

August 21, 2014 by clumpaday

Energizers

Clump #215: Clear off batteries and magazine pile from tabletop.

To be perfectly honest, I was working on another clump today that really stumped me. Stumped by a clump. So these were done quickly to keep the momentum going. A bag of batteries of unknown origin. I’ll find out whether the Goodwill takes batteries, since there are too many of a kind we don’t often use. Did we go crazy preparing for the power outages this past winter?

Recycle this pile of magazines.

With all that’s been said about Robin Williams after the shock of his recent death, I find myself thinking of our late hairdresser, Cindy. She was never late, but a few years ago she died of lung cancer. One of the things that defined her was her love of Robin Williams. I’m sure it was mentioned at her funeral. Cindy went above and beyond the call of duty for our family, from styling theatrical hair styles and wigs for a theatrical daughter (no charge), to finding the impossible-to-get beanie babies for us, using her network of client-informants. What a gem.

It makes me feel a little better to imagine Cindy and Robin in a realm where labels of hairdresser and celebrity are meaningless. And both of them recognizing their mutual greatness, but especially Robin starstruck over Cindy.

August 20, 2014August 20, 2014 by clumpaday

Clumps Happen

Clump #214: Clear one more quarter of kitchen table. Day ten of 30-day challenge.

I almost started this post with a different photo, but thought better of it. Our mudroom is the domain of Pumpkin, our cat. Her litter boxes (yes, plural) are in there, where her rule is law. One rule is that anything falling on the floor is fair game. I had put a bag of plastic bags on a shelf in there with the intent to recycle the whole bunch, but this morning it was on the floor when I, half asleep, picked it up … too quickly to see the puddle of cat pee that immediately splashed onto my bare feet. Oh man, the wake-up call from Hell! Welcome to “one of those days.”

Okay, I just searched back for a picture of Pumpkin, and found this one … another very different morning, and offering, exactly as it was, untouched by humankind.

I guess what I’m saying is that no matter how bad a day, how many insults and disappointments, a clump can be cleared and a bit of order restored. More kitchen table clutter:

And now a full half table of usable space is available.

I feel the need to pretty-up, or freshen-up this post. Last week I saw these lovely pink flowers popping out by the roadside:

I learned they are called surprise lilies, from the amaryllis family. They bloom after their leaves die, thus, another of their names: resurrection lilies.

Hope springs eternal. Tomorrow is another day.

August 19, 2014 by clumpaday

Tabletop Tribulations

Clump #213: Start clearing kitchen table. Day nine of my 30-day challenge (has it only been nine days?!)

Now that our kitchen island is clear of clutter (yesterday’s clump), we may enjoy the abundant fruits of summer collected in its center, a changeable work of art.

Aaaand … right next to it is the kitchen table, full to bursting with the fruits of our negligence. ACK! Is it my imagination, or is Neuroscientist Richie Davidson on the cover of mindful magazine laughing at me? Or maybe it’s a grimace that says, “How can I meditate in all this clutter? Get me out of here!”

I found and payed some bills, which felt like detonating land mines, then rifled through part of the daunting task until a clear space was born. I didn’t want to make myself crazy. Just one clump … one step at a time. The less onerous the clump, the more motivated I’ll be to tackle another tomorrow.

Now the reward: two library books that seemed to be put out on display just for me:

Excuse me while I put the kettle on.

August 18, 2014August 18, 2014 by clumpaday

Whistle While You Work

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Cinderella, Decluttering, Disney, Grumpy, Life, Photos, Snow White
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Clump #212: Clear and clean kitchen island and sink; elevate mood.

I felt like a Disney princess this morning. And not in a good way.

I imagined Cinderella and Snow White cheerfully cleaning up other peoples’ messes. How did they manage that singing-with-the-birds spirit? The closest I came was thinking ‘This is for the birds.’

Actually, the Disney character I most resembled (just in attitude, I hope!) was Grumpy.

Here’s a glance at the kitchen island before, with one of my favorite books in the foreground:

I won’t identify those who might have played the roles of dwarves/evil stepmother/sisters, but a baking project had been taken on that was so big, it depleted energy and time needed for the cleanup. And now they had gone back to the salt mines (or was it coal?).

Here’s the “after,” our imitation granite (the secret is out!) formica, all shined up. Notice the darkness outside; it took a long time, what with all the grumping.

Kitchen sink before:

(I think it might be bad feng shui to have a dead bug, legs-up, inside a wishbone. Jimminy Cricket!)

And the much-better after:

With the center of our house’s universe clear, and my mood restored, I read a moving article in The New York Times called What The Sparrows Told Me, by Trish O’Kane. Ms. Kane wrote, “I tell [my students] that the birds are a gift to get them through the day.”

Maybe those princesses were on to something!

August 17, 2014 by clumpaday

The Clumps of Another

Clump #211: Help friend move.

The photo above was taken outside our Quaker Meeting this morning. The plant belonged to a woman who recently passed away; her friend adopted it and is being richly rewarded.

My good friend is moving soon and needed help. In the fifteen years we’ve been friends, occasionally she would mention her habit of sneaking various purchases in the house, away from her husband’s eyes. As we were clearing out her kitchen today, I reached for what I thought was a pretty ceramic bread box. I lifted the top, and found a pile of receipts inside. Whoa-Ho! This was her secret hiding place. We laughed about the fact that I had found what her own husband had never noticed. I asked her permission to take this photo:

Tomorrow: back to my own clumps and guilty secrets.

Clump A Day

postcards from the clogosphere

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