Binders

Day 172:

We all have stuff that sparks our passion. Stuff that magnetizes us like the smell of cigarettes to a recent ex-smoker. Stuff that says "Take me home!" no matter how much of it we already have. 

For me, it's whites. Linens. Domestics. Sheets, mattress pads, quilts, comforters, pillows, tablecloths, cloth napkins, potholders, dishrags, towels, washcloths. I love them all. When the ones I have get the slightest bit faded or threadbare, I want new ones, but I hate throwing away the old, so they just keep accumulating in the cupboards. I've also got a minor obsession with bowls. I probably have a dozen different serving bowls - maybe more - but I cherish each one. Two from the Potter's Guild. Two oven-safe stoneware. Two green Fiestaware, slightly chipped, that belonged to Rich's gramma. Stainless steel nesting mixing bowls. A wooden salad bowl. A big Italian pottery bowl that came from my aunt as a wedding gift. I hope I can make it to day 365 without having to take a long hard look at my serving bowls.

For Sam, it's shoes. He has fifteen pairs of apparently identical canvas shoes. To him, they are not identical at all. The Patagonias that look just like his loafers are slippers. One pair of gray Perry's has shoelaces, the other doesn't. This red pair is Nike, that one is Ralph Lauren.

For Rich, it's music gear. We've got five clip-on tuners and one listening tuner. Two electronic metronomes and one mechanical. Three acoustic guitars; four if you include the one that's hanging on the wall for decoration. Two stand-up basses and two electric basses. We've got drums and mariachis and wooden flutes. Silver flutes, penny whistles and recorders. Two electronic keyboards and a piano. A concert ukulele and a soprano ukulele. Two mandolins. One orange and one black Manhasset music stand, and one silver and one black foldable music stand. We've got microphones, amplifiers and a big Rubbermade tub of cords. We've got floor stands and wall hangers. Dozens of books and instructional cds. We've got apps and we've got software.  Okay, let's be fair: some of this stuff belongs to others in the family. But Rich is the king of music gear.

For Emma, it's school supplies. I probably should have said no to her annual requests for all new binders. I don't really believe that new binders every year are necessary. Can all the clasps really be broken? But having new school supplies gave her a reason to look forward to school starting, and how could I say "no" to that? Especially with my drawers and closets stuffed full of linens? So here we are, Emma gone from home, and used binders coming out of the woodwork. I've left a few on Sam's school shelf, and a few out in the studio waiting for new sheet music, but this stack can go. I already got rid of one pile - unofficially donated to the Botanical Gardens - so I figure if I need one in the future, it would be fair game to borrow one. Given the closetful of binders there (I've been cleaning out file cabinets all over the building), I'm taking this set straight to the PTO. Hopefully somebody can find a use for them.

Fabric and Wooden Puppet

Day 171: Fabric and Wooden Puppet

I always liked this puppet better than either of the kids. Perhaps they didn't like it because its nose got chewed off by our dog, Chester, soon after we got it. Or perhaps it's not objectively very much fun, but I like it because I have a nostalgic attachment to old fashioned toys, and a fond memory to go with this one in particular. We bought it for them on the Rue de Passy in Paris. Our first trip away, a whole week in an apartment tucked behind Notre Dame on the Ile de la Cite, with its narrow cobblestone streets and clear December air. We left the kids with my parents while we attended my brother- and sister-in-law's wedding, back in those long gone days - over a decade already! - before cell phones or texting or Skyping, when a trip to Europe meant you only got in touch if there was an emergency.

The little shop seemed charmingly nineteenth century, filled with wooden tops and jacob's ladders and rag dolls, all made from materials that have been used for toys for hundreds of years. I remember very well the first time I went into a Toys-R-Us, just before Emma Jane was born, and experienced the supreme frustration of not being able to get where I wanted to go because the display armature forces you past aisle after aisle of plastic toys. I had the jarring realization that there was an entire massive industry of stuff of which I had been blissfully unaware. The little Parisian boutique felt like an antidote.

It's been many years since I've shopped at a Toys R Us, and many more since that trip to Paris. Without a nose, this little fellow may end up another resident on the Island of Misfit Toys. But it's time he gets out of the closet and into circulation.

Coyote Pelt with Bullet Hole

Day 170: Coyote Pelt with Bullet Hole

How in the world did we come to possess this coyote pelt with a bullet hole in it? It emerged when we did the room switch, but no one who lives here seems to feel ownership for it. 

Since I've become a more sophisticated environmentalist, I've lost my yuppie liberal distaste for hunting. I'm a supporter of deer culling. Deer are disease vectors and ecosystem destroyers. In the absence of sufficient predators, they take over, and their overpopulation isn't good for them or anything else as food and other resources become scarce. I'll never forget my first tour bus ride with a bevy of botanical gardens professionals. The bus driver pulled over to the side of the road to point out a grazing herd, and a riot almost broke out.

Deer hunting, good. Coyote hunting, bad. Wolf hunting, bad.

I suspect that this coyote pelt belongs to a younger brother. We have several. We also have over a thousand square feet of unfinished basement, nearly empty. Three younger brothers have had stuff stored in our basement at one time or another. 

Little brothers, if you want this coyote pelt, speak now.

Mattress Pad

Day 169: Mattress Pad

This mattress pad is on a par with Harpo's girlfriend: so nasty I can't tolerate the embarrassment of sending it off to the ragpickers. It went straight to the trash, and then onward to the landfill. 

I have a question: are landfills really so bad? I understand that in this country, they begin with an impermeable layer that prevents pollutants from entering the ecosystem. This is a stark contrast to Belize, which we visited a year and a half ago. The landfill - say, dump - was between the little house we rented and the town on Caye Caulker. People were dumping trash everywhere in the vicinity, and when it rained, puddles would fill with bits of refuse. Every couple days, there would be a terrible stench of burning rubber as the garbage was incinerated. 

Meanwhile, we denizens of the good old USA are increasing our recycling and composting efforts here in our local communities. But many recycling processes result in as much environmental harm as production from raw materials would. And high quality processed compost is piling up in the compost center, because a lot of people would rather buy plastic bags of wood chips and topsoil than shovel compost at the reuse center. 

We order Calder Dairy milk delivered to our door every two weeks, five half gallon glass bottles that the Dairy collects, washes and reuses. We've been doing this for five years, which means we've kept 500 plastic or waxed milk jugs entirely out of the waste stream. If I had a cow, I wouldn't even incur the fuel costs of milk delivery. I could just drink right from the teat. 

Well, that's not going to happen, of course. But while Belizeans may not do as well with waste disposal as we do, they produce significantly less waste per person. And using less - not disposing of things better - is really the key to environmental stewardship. 

Yeah. Milk right from the teat. No recycling necessary. 

More Tablecloths

Day 168: More Tablecloths

The end is near, I can feel it. I had planned to spend the rest of the week cleaning out the medicine cabinet, under the sink, the drawers and the small cupboard in the upstairs bathroom. Imagine my chagrin when I discovered that two of the three drawers were already empty, as is the space under the sink and most of the cupboard. A whole week of getting rid of stuff, gone.

I have a few more items in a bin in the basement that I have identified for getting rid of. I haven't blogged about them yet. These three tablecloths, an old coat, a mattress pad, a bowling pin, a broken puppet. Another week's worth, perhaps. We haven't hit the music studio yet. I imagine there are still a few more items in the garage and the tool shed. Perhaps a suitcase or two that can move on to a new home, and those old tax files. I could probably glean some stuff out of the Christmas box and my bin of childhood momentos.

All this might add up to a month's worth. Maybe two, stretching it.

That will be a good thing, right? It will mean everything in my house either brings joy, or has a use. But what then? Will I quit the stuff project? Move on to Catriona's office (as she keeps hinting)? Perhaps I could start getting rid of bad habits, or bad relationships (do I have any?), or the mice in the basement, the carpenter bees, and our house in Saint Augustine. Perhaps I could try getting rid of my monkey mind. No more spinning thoughts. Daily meditation.

Now that I think of it, maybe things are just starting to get interesting.

Chocolate Fondant

Day 167: Chocolate Fondant

I had big, big plans for this chocolate fondant. I was going to make a graduation cake, maybe carrot, maybe yellow, Emma's two favorites. I was going to bake the cake in an oven-safe stoneware bowl, so the cake would come out dome-shaped. I was going to decorate the cake to look like a ball, maybe a soccer ball, with half the hexagrams dark like chocolate. I was going to get some special crunchy sugary cake letters, several alphabets for all the B's. The cake was going to say "Ball State BFA Bound!" I was going to bake a second cake for Francesca, whatever her favorite flavor is, maybe a slightly smaller cake, with "Go Cardinals" on it, maybe in the shape of a bishop's cap, with red icing. I've never used fondant before, but I was going to learn.

What actually happened is, I called my mom the day before the grad party, not quite in a panic. "I need a cake!" Costco to the rescue, a yellow cake with whipped cream frosting. My mom got ahold of an icing pen somewhere and wrote "Congratulations, Emma, Francesca and Joe" (because my nephew Joe graduated from eighth grade that same week). 

Hey, there was a lot going on that weekend.

It's a little tempting now to eat the chocolate fondant. I love sweets. It's time for dessert, and we don't have any, unless I pick the M&M's out of the trail mix. But no. I won't sink so low.

I doubt Food Gatherers would accept the fondant. Is it really food? 

Free table at work. We'll see how long it hangs around.

Plastic Serving Implements

Day 166: Plastic Serving Implements

Plastic. Cheap. Versatile. Durable. Ubiquitous. And it doesn't biodegrade. Instead, it photodegrades. 

What's the difference? A big one, to marine life. When a substance biodegrades, it breaks down into simpler compounds. It can be absorbed and repurposed. But plastics simply weaken in the sun, breaking down into smaller and smaller bits, retaining their chemical substance, and interfering with the life cycle of marine animals and sea birds.

These plastic serving implements made their way into our household through Emma's graduation party, when Francesca and Emma each ordered food from their favorite ethnic restaurants. The big paper shopping bags filled with Indian and Middle Eastern food also disgorged a dozen or more plastic serving tongs and spoons. They are sturdy and functional, too much like real cutlery to throw away, yet we don't need them. Plastic may be functional, but it is never pleasing to the eye or to the touch. Still, these were too substantial - too pristine - to recycle, so I shoved them into one of our precious few kitchen drawers.

Today, as I was rooting around, looking for twist ties and frustrated because the drawers were so crowded I couldn't find anything, and then I couldn't get the drawers open and closed, I realized they were stuffed full of black plastic serving implements that had never been used. So I bagged them together in a Ziploc bag and threw them into the latest Goodwill box. I'm not sure, though, that anyone will ever buy them. After all, isn't every kitchen drawer in Ann Arbor stuffed full of plastic serving implements?

I've already stopped taking drinking straws (did you know straws used to be made of paper?). I'm resolved now to decline plastic lids and cutlery as well. 

Also relegated to the Goodwill box: not my grandmother's china desert rose salad tongs. Now at last I can get the drawers open and closed. Today anyway.