The Daily Fuss

Out of Hand

I am aggressively attacking my to do list on several fronts.

It's slow-going.

For example, I cleaned and organized the storage/unfinished portion of the basement yesterday and I am completely sore today from the bending, lifting and twisting (essentially cardio-yoga) involved in dealing with my small, but jam-packed space.

In the interest of otherwise showing progress this week, I offer status on the following items:

2) Tend my garden = COMING ALONG BEAUTIFULLY

3) Can and otherwise preserve the fruits of said garden = PROCURED NEW WECK JARS AND FAITHFULLY TEND CROPS

8) Thoughtfully display the girls' artwork = HUNG NEW FRAMES, ONE OF FOUR WAS BROKEN, ORDERED REPLACEMENT

9) Free up kitchen counter space = ORDERED SOLUTION FOR VEGGIE/SNACK BOWLS/COFFEE CLUTTER

12) Clean/organize basement = DONE

13) Clean/organize my closet = PARTIALLY DONE PER DONATIONS/BASEMENT REORGANIZE

15) Donate everything I don't need = IN PROGRESS

16) Spend time with family = ONGOING: WE HAD AN EXCELLENT WEEKEND

I likely won't have everything done by the end of summer, so why not add a few more time consuming and seemingly impossible items to the list?

My neighbor and I have been running lately and sticking right around 3 miles per outing. Today, we decided we need more of a commitment and vowed to run 100 miles in July. That's basically a 5k a day for a 31 month. 

Also after posting about how Muller uses tilapia to keep its Fruit Up "fruit mousse" fluffy, I learned from my Aunt (Paleo advocate) that there exists a challenge NOT to eat anything with a nutrition label for a month. So, as long as I am running my ass off, I might as well be munching nuts and berries. 

In sum, I'm adding:

17) Run 100 miles in July; and

18) Eat ONLY whole foods for a month (also July?)

to my list.

Details to come.

Who's with me? 

Runners and healthy eaters, tips, suggestions, recipes and encouragement are welcome! Please post a comment and share your fuss with us!

The War on Stuff

Our house is bursting at the seams with "stuff" and I just don't know where it all comes from.

Well ... that's a lie.

I am head of procurement for the Freeman family and I do love to shop. We have more packages delivered than any local business and free shipping is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. Where I strive to be green in so many other ways ... shopping is not exactly one of them.

The term "stuff" is comprised of a few distinct categories.

Let's start with the girls.

Apparel: At ages two and four, they grow out of things daily. Hand-me-downs are few because either the season is wrong for the size or the article just doesn't look quite right on little sis. Clothing is an arch enemy in my war on stuff. Let's add the ridiculous number of tennis shoes, boots, Crocs, sandals and slippers and call the whole lot "Apparel".

Accessories: I'll put sunglasses, costumes, barrettes, purses, dress up shoes, jewelry, wands and wings here.

Toys: The small plastic things (that once belonged to a set and now are in a random bowl somewhere with the choke-ables I initially pulled out) are of major concern. The rest of the toys find homes in their respective bins with little consequence.

Ryan (by his own account) is not responsible for any part of our mess, as he doesn't lay claim to any part of the house except for his closet (which is an absolute disaster) and his dresser (which is empty with freshly folded laundry sitting atop).

As for me, I have my own areas of mayhem. I will just bullet this for you and let your imagination run wild.

• My closet
• My home office
• My art/craft and otherwise DIY items
• My tools
• My basement (unfinished area)
• My built in cabinets

I love projects. "Project Stuff" should literally be one of my categories because once I set my sights on a project (i.e. soap-making, canning, jewelry making, party planning) I need to acquire all the "stuff" that goes with it.

"Project Stuff" and "Work Stuff" pretty much covers me.

I catch myself daydreaming of a paralell universe where all the flat surfaces in my home are devoid of clutter, unopened mail, chargers, random Barbie shoes and clean dishes that need to be put away but are an odd shape so that extra energy must be expended to put them away and it just isn't going to happen right his minute.

What a lovely home that would be.

I can achieve this. I know I can. I just don't want to give up my project-oriented way of being to do it.

So I won't.

I am dedicating this summer to accomplishing an aggressive "to do" list while decluttering and optimizing this house into the utopian vision in my head.

Items (both projects and optimization efforts) include:

1) Build yard waste composter from old cedar playset

2) Tend my garden

3) Can and otherwise preserve the fruits of said garden

4) Learn how to make cheese (yes I'm serious)

5) Turn existing jewelry supplies into jewelry

6) Turn existing soap-making supplies into soap

7) Organize photos, make books and fill frames

8) Thoughtfully display the girls' artwork

9) Free up kitchen counter space

10) Organize home office

11) Organize playroom/craft space (including finding an alternative for the creepy looking sheers)

12) Clean/organize basement

13) Clean/organize my closet

14) Complete all of the unfinished renovation projects around the house, room by room

15) Donate everything I don't need

16) Spend time with family

Notice that "Relax" "Read" "Enjoy Myself" "Save Money" and "Lose 20 Pounds" is not on this list. Those are all on a list, just not this list.

Let this serve as my official declaration of my war on stuff.

It's going to be a busy summer. 

How about you? Do you have a  perpetual organizational "to do" list hanging over your head? Post a comment and share your fuss with us.

Parachuting Philosopher

I've kept a lifetime "to do" list for as long as I can remember. Some time has passed since "go to Disneyland" topped the charts. I've checked off some major items - graduate college, graduate law school, start a business, get a dog, be creative, marry the most wonderful man ever, buy a sweet home, have an even sweeter baby ...

I've done some interesting things in my day. I've scaled modest cliffs, played instruments, been on television, won contests, lost contests, flown a plane, met famous people, worked with the disabled, traveled, camped, made soap, made jewelry, made lots of things, soldered precious metals, acted, danced and entertained. But none of those things were on my list until after I had done them. I would accomplish a task and inevitably it would end up on my list with a fresh check mark. Yay me.

Some aspirations remain: learn a third language, learn sign language, write a book, learn to draw something more than stick people, learn to play another instrument, start a charity, join a band and live in another country. These edgier items were added by my inner Parachuting Philosopher. Who?

My friend Natalie and I have joked about the Parachuting Philosopher for a long time - the super interesting, witty and fearless person we envision ourselves or even our mate to be. Incidentally, the Parachuting Philosopher is also incredibly fit, is perfectly punctual, has impeccable manners and never runs out of money. We hold the Parachuting Philosopher out there as though becoming that person or marrying that person is actually an attainable goal.

Somehow, I thought I would perpetually check my alter ego's items off my list throughout my lifetime. Maybe I even thought maternity leave would free up my schedule for such endeavors. Excuse me? What? However, as I sat up those first few nights with my new beeb, fresh fantasy action items filled my head. Things like attend weekly mommy-and-me yoga, make various iPod mixes to teach her about real music, boycott all goods made in China, grow my own herbs and write a children's book made the list.

As I rocked my swaddled bundle of joy to sleep, It occurred to me that by checking "get pregnant" off of my life's list, I'd created the immense pressure of giving birth to and raising a future Parachuting Philosopher. Fuuuuuck.

It's too much to handle.

I thought I was alone in this. Or at least that Natalie and I were the only two goofs who coveted the coolness of the Parachuting Philosopher. Alas no.

One day early on, we were listening to music and having a new family moment. Ryan bounced Leighton on his knee and stared at her for the longest time with a grin on his face while describing to me precisely why she's the most amazing little person he's ever met. Then, he turned to me and said, in a most serious manner, "I need to take guitar lessons. I don't want Leighton to think it isn't important to play a musical instrument."

I love Ryan for being my Parachuting Philosopher and for always being "in it" with me. Even when I think "it" exists only in my mind.

What items made your life's "to do" list? Please post a comment and share the fuss with us.

Mess E. Nest

After Leighton was born, my lingering pregnancy symptoms waned at different times. For example, I know the very second my "supersmell" wore off. It was three weeks ago. Ryan had eaten some garlic and onion pita chips and I managed to carry on a conversation with him without gagging and making him gargle promptly with Listerine. Earlier in my pregnancy, I could tell what Ryan had eaten for the previous two days, in order of consumption, just by speaking with him. At this moment, even Cool Ranch Doritos don't really bother me much. Supersmell ... gone.

Then there’s napping. I'm just not good at it. I could nap when I was pregnant, but that ended the moment Leighton was born. If I fall asleep during the day, even for a minute, I wake up disoriented with heart palpitations. Yes. For me, napping and anxiety go hand in hand. I suppose I feel like I would miss out on something, were I to nap. I know it's strange. I fight sleep as hard as Leighton. (Sometimes, when I try to put her down she blinks, one eye at a time, as a signal to me that she's not going down without a fight.) She doesn't want to miss a second of the action. I get that. I am exhausted right now, yet I choose to spend my few precious moments of free time today writing instead.

I don't miss the supersmell and napping qualities of pregnant life, but the recent departure of the nesting instinct has me bumming. My nesting instinct kicked in precisely one year ago. Three-hundred and sixty-five days later ... poof. It's gone, and my nest is suffering the consequences. BUMMER.

While I was pregnant with Leighton (and up until yesterday) our home was museum quality - tidy, accessorized and stocked with food, shampoo, diaper cream, band-aids, batteries, anchovie paste... You name it. We had it. I've been having a tough week and it finally occurred to me that I'm struggling because I am no longer hormonally propelled into action at the site of a stray crumb or rogue iPod that escaped it's cubby in the charging station. Nor can I remember to buy dental floss, ketchup or coffee creamer.

The best part of my nesting urge was my unrelenting drive to be organized. I was so focused on making our home a cozy base of family operation I could seemingly operate at the level of "superwoman". Okay, I could be romanticizing it a bit. Maybe I was "superwoman" because I never woke up hungover, or because I was able to nap during the day for the first time in my life since I was Leighton's age. Whatever the reason, I was getting shit done and getting it done in a super clean house. I loooooved it. I thought it would last forever. SIGH.

The amount of wine I consume now is inversely proportional to how much I care about whether the laundry gets put away before I go to bed or if the dishwasher gets emptied ... well ... at all or if I get to bed early enough to like myself in the morning or if Lue gets groomed properly with any real frequency. My post-delivery, nesting instict helped me fly above this mortal proportionality problem to achieve domestic bliss even after a glass or two of syrah. SIGH.

I am decidedly not Jenny-on-the spot with laundry anymore. At this very moment, my feet are propped up on a rhombus tote (explanation for another post) full of unfolded (but clean) laundry and a huge pile of unassembled (but clean) fuzzi bunz (also for another post). I threw away some towels today because they smelled like mildew from being left in the washer overnight. Ick. (I didn't really throw them away. I am donating them to PAWS - same effect.) Moreover, I am disturbingly fine with using the dishwasher as a cabinet all of the sudden, I am back to my old ways of staying up way too late, and, poor little Lue is sporting a shag and raccoon claws. B.L. (before Leighton) Luella would not have been "neglected" (Lue's word, not mine) in this way.

It's time to stop mourning and move on, as I plan to get much done this weekend. I will make my "to do" list and execute it with vigor. As I bid a final farewell to my beloved nesting instinct, I imagine I will once again be “superwoman” enjoying a clean house and an organized life. It's funny to think that I would consider having another baby in an attempt to get back there.