Seriously? Yes

The idea seemed absurd. Color coordinating your refrigerator containers and contents must bespeak “issues” or way too much time on your hands. Unless you have a fridge with a glass front (which has always seemed daring to me), what’s inside isn’t going to be on display. Why bother? Shouldn’t curating perishables only involve tossing the ones that have perished?

I read the WSJ piece, mostly to feel virtuous about not color coordinating my refrigerator. But by the end of the article, the answer to the Seriously question was an honest, Yes. I realized that curating your refrigerator isn’t any nuttier than organizing your sock drawer. Or arranging the bills in your wallet with like kind denominations. Or ironing your underwear. No one is going to see inside the dresser or the wallet and hopefully not your underwear (although this is hardly a fashion faux pas anymore). And the more I thought about the reasons people gave for tidying their fridge, the more reasonable it seemed. 

People said doing so made them eat more fruits and vegetables and they’d lost some much unneeded weight. It helped them use all the good food for which they’d paid good money. It saved them time because they’d prepped all the perishables as soon as the bags were unloaded which was more efficient than doing it willy-nilly- or not at all.  And not to be trivialized, spiffing up their refrigerator made them happy. All of those sounded like good reasons to say Yes. 

So, my sanctimonious self is able to admit that Kondo-izing your fridge actually might be a good idea. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.  For some, it’s folding socks, or sorting dollar bills or ironing “smalls” (a delightful Scottish term). Organizing your refrigerator is really no different. But be truthful.  Do you really want to eat better, or waste less or save time? Or do you just want an excuse to go to the Container Store?

Six Little Questions

Why am I here?

How do I feel?

Do I need this?

What if I wait?

How will I pay for it?

Where will I put it?

April Benson, Ph.D, a shopping addiction specialist suggests these questions in her book, To Buy or Not To Buy: Why We Overshop and How to Stop. (Might this be an excellent example of a First World Problem?)

Answering these questions puts space between the impulse to pull the buying trigger and actually pulling the trigger.  It can save you a world of regret- financial and emotional. Giving in occasionally to impulse purchases is normal. It’s when we do so despite great personal or financial peril that spells trouble. 

Tie a string around your finger to remind you! The trouble with trouble is it starts out as fun. 

Letting Go

The tie that binds ‘is an idiom that typically evokes a warm feeling of connection. But if you think of it not idiomatically but literally, that’s not so cheery. Think trapped, stuck, and hemmed in. 

We’re prisoners of our own making when we can’t let go of things and thoughts. What possesses you?  Is it too many material things?  Too many obligations and command performances?  Too many open loops that make your mind feel like a squeaky hamster wheel in perpetual motion.

Find the scissors and make the snip. The metaphorical scissors might be a trash bag or a trip to the donation truck.  Or saying, “I’m flattered you would ask, but I am not able to accept.”  Maybe it’s finding your mental “oil can” by compartmentalizing or being more mindful. There are lots of ways to let go.

“Complete possession is proved only by giving. All you are unable to give possesses you.”  Andre Gide

 Untether and feel the air beneath your wings.

An Old Yarn

“Right now in the U.S., consumers dispose of about 80% of their textiles directly into their garbage cans.”  WSJ

A new wrinkle in the “upcycling” industry hopes to turn trash to treasure by changing that behavior with new technology.  The process involves shredding and liquifying discarded clothing into a pulp, filtering the pulp and converting it to a premium fiber which is then spun into yarn, dyed and woven into fabric.  Complicated-yes. And a premium price accompanies that premium product. It’s a high-tech fleecing.

The purported benefits of upcycling include sustainability; redirecting tons of clothing from the landfill to the factory is good for the environment.  Possibly, but on that, the jury is still out. What about tackling this behavior another way- by not trashing 80% of our textiles (aka clothes).  By not buying a bunch of stuff we don’t want or need and apparently barely even like.  By remembering the original sustainable system- “Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without”.

 Don’t be hoodwinked by a hoodie!

Leftovers

“Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without” urged the WW II conservation motto. As a little girl, knowing nothing about the War effort, I thought my grandmother had coined this clever expression. Google suggests that the original maxim was “Eat is up, wear it out, make it do, or do without”- exemplifying the four threads of New England character. 

A WSJ article touting the surprising versatility of bottled clam juice pointed out that many useful ingredients are only leftovers that a clever producer turned into profit.  Breadcrumbs are just stale bread. Lard is rendered pork fat that was destined for the scrap heap. And clam juice is the liquor from steaming fresh clams.  Making a market for these leftovers is “use it up” in a clamshell.

So what’s with the pot? It’s another version of “use it up”.

Making homemade chicken stock transforms leftovers into something that money can’t buy- stock that doesn’t have a bunch of preservatives or ingredients with unpronounceable names.  The chicken bones, vegetable peelings, and tired garlic cloves that might have gone in the trash, get a starring role. A second chance. An encore performance. Bravo!

Thrifty, practical, resourceful, restrained.  Maybe old-fashioned, but still good qualities, no matter where you’re from.

A Short Leash

Less is more. I believe this is true. It’s one of my Rules.  Our daughter’s dog, Pia, knows it too.

When Pia hears, “Do you want to go on the duck walk?”, the answer is yes!  This seven-pound Morkie herds her humans with the skill and enthusiasm that would put a sheep dog to shame.  The ducks live in Little Sugar Creek and the greenway that skirts it is where Pia loves to walk.  She can walk for miles if conditions are favorable. Rain and heat are her least favorite things.  She knows her mind and although I’m only her occasional keeper, I’ve learned it too.

There is a juncture where the walk can go long or where we can head back to the barn.  I let her decide.  Today was a less is more day.  Despite the early hour, it was already getting hot. She knew that extra two miles was not what she wanted. Less was better.  I knew that too. I’d be carrying her for much of the longer route and neither of us likes that. 

We had a great walk. Neither of us felt deprived.  She got to tell the ducks who was boss.  She trotted with elan.  She was glad to have gone and glad to be home.  Less was more. Less was enough. Less was perfect.

Sometimes a not too big life can be just right.  It lets us be, rather than always be doing. Just ask Pia.

PS Don’t call PETA. The picture was taken when it it was sweater weather. Today, she was topless, showing off her summer "do’.

A Pitch for Less

“You can’t get enough of what you don’t really want.” Huh? Here’s my take. We all have our buffers- excessive food or drink, maniacal work, destructive gambling or endless screen time. And for some it’s buying too much stuff. It’s whatever you’d call your guilty pleasure or harmless little secret. I’m not an expert on any of these, but If I’m out on limb, stuff is the sturdiest one.

More has a better PR agent than less. It’s the brand favorite. The crowd-pleaser. Not surprisingly, I’m working for Less. Here’s my pitch. Ditch your ‘more’. Lose whatever it is that consumes you. Possessions, proclivities, pastimes. You’re supposed to be the consumer, not the consumed.

If buying is your addiction, consider this. Buying what you don’t want or need may be a fleeting distraction but it robs you of the more lasting pleasure of “less”. Less can be a powerful pacifier too.

Try it. You might just like it.

Hamish- A Thrice Told Tale

#1 “I invested all my money in debt.” Hamish Bowles, Vogue fashion journalist. I would have guessed Mark Twain, especially since I’d never heard of Hamish Bowles until recently. This quote (even if exaggerated) is so clever and pithy that I’m just glad it’s been said.

#2 I’ve got a soft spot for anyone named Hamish, even it anyone is a pet pig. Our daughter’s name for this little porker was delicious foreshadowing. As far a pigs go, his life was charmed. A squeaky grunt and another bottle appeared.

#3 In Yiddish, Hamish means homey or cozy. What’s not to like?

It’s easy to imagine the four legged Hamish embracing homey and cozy, words that don’t immediately bring to mind the two-legged Hamish. But the more I read about Mr. Bowles, the more plausible it seemed. “I think that my interior is like an autobiography through objects.” Even if his interior looks over-the-top to me, I think he means that it’s comfortable to him. It’s his cozy home.

About investing in debt, I think Bowles was mostly being witty, because as the four-legged Hamish knows, a happy home doesn’t have to cost an arm and a leg. A loving human, a swim in the creek and a crate of full bottles- pig paradise.

Hamish, three ways!

Dead End

Streets with only one way in and out can be aggravating but no where near as bothersome as the dead end project, job or relationship. Calling it a blind alley, impasse, or the slightly better sounding cul de sac - doesn’t change things. Especially when you translate cul de sac: a vessel or tube with only one opening. Literally the bottom of a sack. With lots of anatomical connotations. Not a good place to be, even in French.

Time spent on dead ends is wasted time.  It’s easier to back out sooner rather than later.  As sunk costs mount, the will to abort the failing mission declines.  “I’ve expended lots of time, money, thought, sweat… and it’s all for naught if I quit.”  How about good time, money, thought, and sweat after bad?  Maybe that’s how we should be thinking.

In Seth Godin’s book, The Dip: The Little Book That Teaches You When to Quit (and When to Stick) his lesson is clear. When you’re in the hard part, the valley between the exciting start and the long road to mastery, either lean into it or get the heck out. Thoughtfully calculated quitting makes you a winner. When you’re at the bottom of a sack- you might just be left holding the bag.

No parking on a dead end street!

Adieu, Barn

Harder to let go

Than never to have gotten.

Breathe and let it go.

A Long Time

Timely thoughts, in praise of aging. Some serious, some witty. All true.

“Awake sluggards, waste not life, there’s time enough for sleeping in the grave.” Ben Franklin

"No minute gone comes ever back again. Take heed and see ye nothing do in vain". Inscription on Liberty of London clock face.

“I never put off until tomorrow what I can possibly do the day after.” Oscar Wilde

“Perfection of character is this: To live each day as if it were your last. Without frenzy, apathy or pretense.” Marcus Aurelius

“How we spend our days, is of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour and that one, is what we have done.” Annie Dillard

“What I like doing best is nothing.” Christopher Robin

“Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come.” Alfred Lord Tennyson

And finally. on the occasion of an advanced birthday: “Dear, I guess we’ve missed the opportunity to die young.” Gray to Julian

Those Pesky Square Pegs

With a nod to Not My Monkeys (June 15, 2018), this rehash was prompted by article in the NY Times, “ Why Giving Up Is Sometimes the Best Way to Solve a Problem”. The author’s thesis is this: when you’ve made hash of said problem, it might be time to give up. When endless iterations of convoluted “solutions” fail, ask yourself if it’s even your problem to solve.

Tunnel vision is much more common that real self- awareness. We cling to failing undertakings, even when we know they are doomed. When we’ve invested a lot of time in something, giving up feels like failure. A self-esteem downer. Quitting sounds weak but strategic quitting is skill.

Trying to fit a square peg in a round hole is a lot of work. And it doesn’t work. Giving up might be exactly the right solution- especially when it’s not your circus, not your monkeys.

Special Delivery

This comic was published on Saturday, April 27, 2019. And on Saturday, April 27, 2019, a seven and a half pound baby girl was delivered to a couple well-loved by many. Welcome to the world Hatton- without the requisite 700 pounds of baby stuff. Some unneeded. Much unwanted. You will know that aesthetics matter. That restraint is a virtue. That Antoine de St. Exupéry is correct- “Perfection is achieved not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing more to take away.”

By the way, you’re perfect. Love, birdie.

Hamish- A Tale Twice Told

Hamish One

I have a soft spot for anyone named Hamish, even it anyone is a pig. This bottle-raised piglet became our daughter’s charge when the mother sow took ill. Arrington named him Hamish. Maybe intentional (and delicious) foreshadowing!  As far as this little porker was concerned, his life, no matter how long, was charmed.  A doting companion, a snug bed, and warm bottles that appeared at the first squeaky grunt- what’s not to like?

Hamish Two

“I invested all my money in debt.” another Hamish quips. I would have guessed Mark Twain, especially since I’ve only just learned of Hamish Bowles, the Vogue fashion journalist. This quote (even if exaggerated) is so clever and pithy that I’m glad it’s been said!

In Yiddish, hamish means homey and cozy. It’s easy to imagine the four-legged Hamish embracing homey and cozy, words that aren’t immediately associated with the two-legged one. But the more I read about Mr. Bowles, the more plausible it seemed. “I think that my interior is like an autobiography through objects.” Even if his interior looks over-the-top to me, I think he means that it’s comfortable to him. It’s his cozy home.

So whether your home is a straw filled pen or a swank London townhouse, make sure it’s hamish. Your hamish.  A just right home for you and yours. 

The Dead Parent File- Shedding Light On A Dark Topic

I’ve tried for years to entice a friend into co-writing a book called The Dead Parent File. It would be a folksy look at the pitfalls of dying with your financial and legal affairs in disarray and guidance on getting them in order. Sort of a companion to the Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, with the emphasis on accounts and documents rather than furnishing and memorabilia.

My intended co-author has been resolute in her refusals.  No cajoling, trading on a long friendship or repeated reminders of her natural talents and impressive credentials sway her.  “Yes, I’m funny and a good writer.  Yes, I’m an experienced lawyer. Yes, I’m personally acquainted with the pitfalls, having served as executor numerous times. Yes, a book like this would be useful to many. And yes, we might be interviewed on The Today Show. But no, I don’t have time to write it!”

So I’ve scaled back my ambitions and I’m going it alone.  If Margareta Magnsson, the author of Swedish Death Cleaning can find her voice at eighty plus years, I will celebrate getting a Medicare card by introducing The Dead Parent File.  As any sane reader will know, what I’m telling you is only a starting point.  But it’s a good start. Your financial advisor, accountant and attorney will be happy to fill in the details.  

I’ve had an actual file labeled “DEAD PARENT” for years.  I update it at least once a year.  You might say, macabre.  I think not.  Our children were a little squeamish when they first learned about it. But even as teenagers, they knew it would be useful, but hopefully no time soon. So far so good.

What is a dead parent file (DPF) and why should you have one? The obvious answer to why is that we’re all going to die.  And no matter how uncomplicated your life seems, your loved ones will be left holding the bag.  And what is the DPF? It’s an up-to-date record of all the things that live in bank and investment accounts, and safety deposit boxes. It’s insurance information and employment contracts. It’s wills, powers-of-attorney, health care POA, living wills.  It’s account numbers, passwords, important contacts, location of safety deposit box keys. It’s a list of things that need canceling lest you get soaked for membership fees for someone who is no longer among the quick. It’s details on how you want to be remembered and sent on your way.  It’s all of this and depending on your circumstances, more.

It doesn’t have to be overwhelming though. A word document is enough.  It is the overview or outline of what your loved ones will need when the time comes. (“When the time comes” is often used to mean that “the time” might not ever come so let’s not worry about anything unpleasant now.  I assure you, this time will come.)  And what a lovely gift to those who remain that you’ve tidied things up for them! Who better to clean up any messes you’ve made than you?

My scaled-back ambitions produced just an essay, but hopefully that’s enough for you to make the Dead Parent File a part of your life.  I still think a book would be a good idea.  The subtitle would be “ Inquiring Minds Should Want To Know”. 

Thanks to Margareta Magnusson for writing The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning. It didn’t catch on like Japanese Tiding Up, but I loved it.  And your loved ones will love you for taking care of your things so they don’t have to.

The Wheel Is Already Taken

When we have a standard or default mode for handling routine things, we create space for thoughtful consideration of other matters that aren’t so routine. Earl’s just trying to free up some bandwidth to ponder a question that’s important to him. With lots of decisions clamoring for our attention,  it’s easy to get distracted. And when we get bogged down with things that could be routine, weightier matters get the short shrift. E=MC2 or Honey Nut Cheerios versus Cinnamon Toast Crunch?  Other weightier matters are in the mind of the ponderer!

Quit reinventing the decision-making wheel. Create a lifestyle uniform and expand your bandwidth. Invent you!

Garbage, Redux

This essay first appeared on June 11, 2017. Mother Goose and Grimm and I are on the same page. This comic is dated March 26, 2019. And the gas can that’s the subject of paragraph five? I’m still looking.

              “What is food for one man may be bitter poison to others."   Lucretius

Garbage and Garage.  They’re similar phonetically and materially, at least when it comes to a sale.  I recently passed a poorly lettered yard sign which at a glance, read, Garbage Sale.   I thought, “What honesty.  A bold purveyor of trash!”  But my surprise was short lived.  As you have already surmised, the sign was for a garage sale. 

Even at 60 miles per hour, trash is trash. It was pretty clear that this seller had high hopes and buyers would need low expectations.  You can imagine what was on display.  Lots of rickety, outdated baby equipment, plenty of worn out plastic- riding toys, playhouses and kiddy kitchens, decrepit lawnmowers, tired furniture, scads of forlorn clothing and tables full of DPSA.*   Trash is very brave.  It frequently masquerades as treasure, having taken a cue from its owner.

There were few shoppers at this sale, and this paucity made the scene even more pathetic.  I wondered if the sellers had regrets.  I’m sure they regretted the poor turnout, but what I really wondered was whether they regretted having gotten themselves into a place where putting their unwanted, used goods on display for the world to see was the best way out.

“Airing one’s dirty linen in public” came to mind.   As did a modern version of Lucretius, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

With a nod to food for one being poison to another, I confess I’ve been looking for a morsel myself.  That’s why I was paying particular attention to the garage sale. I’m on the hunt for a one-gallon gas can. One that was manufactured before the government decreed that all gas cans should have some fiddly valve that has to be engaged for the spout to function.  Why the old ones were deemed “unsafe” is unknowable unless you work for the Consumer Product Safety Division.  If anyone has an idle can, you’ve got a willing buyer.  Name your price. 

But I digress. The mysteries of the garage sale persist.   Why do we own so much trash? Why do we imagine it to be treasure? Must consumption be all consuming? Why don’t we learn from our mistakes?  Should it not be a wakeup call when we take to vending our castoffs from our front yards?  

James Thurber believed, “Better to have some of the questions than all of the answers.” I’ve got the questions covered but am coming up short on answers.  One possible response to our mysterious love affair with trash is that we’ve forgotten that if everything is precious, then nothing is.  Simply calling things treasures doesn’t alter their essential trashiness.   Real treasures need breathing room. Resuscitation is easy.  Get rid of the trash and the good stuff springs back to life.

* DPSA (noun):  A deceased relative’s acronym for DAMN POOR SIT ABOUTS.  That’s eastern North Carolinaese for trinket, knickknack, gimcrack, or tchotchke. Feel free to spread this usage.  The originator would have been flattered.

“You can’t have everything…where would you put it?”  Apron Aphorism

It Doesn't Just Happen

“Perfection is achieved not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing more to take away.”

Antoine de St. Exupéry

The Dorchester might make it look as if perfection just happens, but I assure you it does not. The hotel management and staff are like proverbial ducks- calm on the topside and paddling like hell underneath. That’s how perfection is achieved- keeping a calm demeanor despite a swirl of behind-the-scenes activity. It’s thoughtful envisioning of the entire enterprise. It’s attention to countless details. It’s willingness to admit mistakes and remember not to make them again. It’s scrupulous editing, spinning less into more. It’s busy, but not bent out of shape. That’s the recipe for making it seem like perfection just happened.

Occasionally perfection might come compliments of dumb luck, but mostly it’s borne of steady work. The Dorchester, the ducks, and you. Working on perfect when it matters and embracing good when good is good enough.

A New Rule: Mind the CPU

The Constitution can be amended, so why not Robin’s Rules?  I’ll skip the debate and ratifying vote, and simply introduce the new Rule.  Unlike other amendments, this one has no illusion of being carved in stone. Take it in the same vein as the rest of my Rules.  It’s just another guideline for keeping order and making better decisions, fewer mistakes.  Indulge me, please. Don’t dismiss the new Rule without at least considering it. The CPU is as central to my thinking as any Rule.  It’s been perking for years and has finally hatched.

Sticker price is important, but it’s only a start.  What really matters is the value of your purchase.  And cost per use, which calculates the relationship between price and times used is a good basis for determining value. Something with a dear price tag that is seldom or never used has a high CPU. In my book, that’s a poor value.  If that same pricey item were frequently used, the CPU would drop and the value rise.  Frequently used for a long, long time? Even better! The CPU homes in on the sweet spot where you get the biggest bang for your buck.  Ignore it at your own peril- financial and psychological.

An expensive purchase isn’t inherently bad. If you can afford it and if you are really going to use and enjoy it, full steam ahead. A luxury car, an antique violin, or a primo espresso machine are expensive relative to other options. If you are a car enthusiast, a talented musician or a coffee aficionado, the expensive version can be justified if you really use it. Amortizing a big number over a long useful life makes the CPU shine.  

But what if you hardly ever drive the luxury car and it needs to be fiddled with every time you do?  What if you’re really not a fiddler and the antique violin sits alone in the corner, inviting unwelcomed inquiries into why no one ever hears you play?  And what if being a home barista seemed like a good idea but you’re still at the coffee shop every morning?  Expensive mistakes.  A cheaper version or no version at all would have been a more reasoned decision.

Don’t be fooled into thinking expense confers investment status.   It might be money down a rat hole. And don’t be fooled into thinking that expense alone will spur use.  It might just as easily spur guilt. By my rough calculation, the trusty machine pictured above has dispensed over 17,000 cups of coffee at a cost of about eight cents per brewing. Even adding the cost of beans and consumable supplies, this purchase, which felt expensive twelve years ago, now feels like a deal.

A paradox.  Cheap things can be costly and costly ones can be a bargain. The CPU can clear things up. 

For This, I Paid Good Money?

Human nature is such that we believe what we want to believe. We’re credulous, when we should be incredulous. Gullible, when we should be wary. Psychologists call this confirmation bias. We don’t want to have our psychological apple cart upset, so we accept the veracity of things that are blatantly inaccurate.

Let’s face it. Earl is bald. But he’s paid for the DNA test and he wants to believe it. Like all of us, Earl hopes to avoid post-purchase dissonance. He doesn’t want to feel like he’s been had. Never mind that he paid for something that hasn’t been useful. Information overload is much like stuff overload. More isn’t better. It’s overwhelming. And being overwhelmed (no matter the cause) wreaks havoc, making clear thinking and rational responses as scarce as the hairs on Earl’s pate.

With apologies to Watson and Crick, in this case, DNA stands for Damn, No-good Assessment.