“The heart is a compass, steers us back to the thing we loved the most.”
There has been a lot of buzzing in the world about the KonMarie method. If you don’t know what that is, that’s alright, the key words are the KonMarie method of tidying up. Honestly I’m not sure exactly what it all entails but getting rid of stuff, particularly stuff that doesn’t bring you joy, seems to be it’s main priority. Now, I’m not a hoarder, I just like to keep things that might one day be useful (Said every hoarder in existence ever). I like to think of it more that I embrace the practicality and frugality of my dairy farming heritage along with a strong urge to reuse items that might have further use (Dang, I still sound like a hoarder don’t I?).
My house is not piled high with old newspapers but I do have a good collection of worn out clothes that some people call rags and others just call garbage. But I just made a pile of them into a rug.
I don’t have stacks of things littering my living room but I do have useful odds and ends tucked away in boxes for “someday”, “just in case” and “parts of it are still good.”
Today I used a drawstring out of a pair of shorts I threw out in college (that was before my rag collecting days but I kept the drawstring because it was still good), and one of those plastic doohickey’s you can put on a drawstring to tighten it up and lock it there (salvaged off a defunct Christmas item) to replace the non-existent drawstring on my husband’s sleeping bag stuff-sack (an item that I’m pretty sure was saved by my parents for “just in case”).
You can KonMarie all you like, I’m saving my cast off bits and doodads and springs of all shapes and sizes. Those doohickys and rags really do come in useful, eventually, and those springs, well I’m with Marie on that one. They bring me joy.
Disclaimer: I clearly don’t know anything about Marie Kondo or her methodology. I just wanted to write a blog post to brag about the fact that my ferreting away of “useful” things really is useful. Sometimes. And also so that I could photograph a spring. Because I love them.
This morning I heard an egg start to roll, spun around and caught it as it fell off the counter to the ground.
I was super proud. It was a total ninja move. My cat-like reflexes combined with super fast deductive reasoning as I both identified the sound and the location the egg was headed, all without looking and in time for me to catch it.
It wasn’t just a ninja move. It was a Sherlock Holmes style deduction followed by ninja skills.
A Sherlock ninja move.
Then I went to make my bed.
And in heaving all four blankets up in the air at one time to straighten them (Sorry Granny, just because I know how to make the bed the right way doesn’t mean I do) I banged my shin on the bed frame hard enough that I pitched forward and landed face first on the bed, not even catching myself with my hands because they were still gripping the blankets as I yowled out loud from the pain in my now bruised shin.
Oh how the mighty fall.
A Friday ritual.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
My cousin and I offered to organize, host and cook the turkeys for our families Thanksgiving dinner. You know, just a nice cozy dinner for 46.
There was a bit of an incident with a dead mouse in the guts of the oven cause an epic stink but it was basically fine.
Once the house had throughly aired no one even gagged when they walked in and that forty pounds of turkey tasted great despite the fact that the oven was unplugged, moved, disassembled attempted to be de-moused, reassembled and plugged back in all while the turkey was cooking.
But really what’s a Thanksgiving dinner without a good story.