Uncategorized – 3 Coffees A Day

What I’ve read so far this year…

2019 is a big year — not only did I turn 50 on the first day of the year, but like everyone I know I set out to create the bucket list of things to do. And of course the list became way too long, way too fast; a simpler approach to this year was clearly in order because who wants to over-live it? Fifty is a watershed year without doubt, but I quickly realized that in the rush to stuff everything I’ve not gotten to yet, and all the things I’ve yet to conquer in just 365 days I was setting myself up for goal non-completion. Again, everyone I know is or has recently passed through this phase of mid-life as well. The solution: 50 books. So far so good, and here’s my list so far…hint: most of these can be purchase through my links to Powell’s just to the right –>I may never own my own “shop around the corner” but I can have my own little virtual shop right here.

Currently reading: Hammer’s The Badass Librarians of Timbuktu

Humor

Where’d You Go Bernadette: I just re-read this amazingly funny, sometimes poignant and omg did she ever nail every single stereotype about Seattle.

Nonfiction

Never Can Say Goodbye (compilation): For anyone that loves NYC, this is a sweet read of essays from authors that both love and hate the best city in the world.

Dunbar’s Never Caught – The Washington’s Relentless Pursuit of their Runaway Slave Ona Judge. You’ll never think of the Washington’s quite the same after reading this well-researched and written book-form documentary. Incredibly sad.

Orlean’s The Library Book: Why don’t we know more about the mysterious fire at the Los Angeles Library?

Trevor Noah’s Born a Crime: Having grown up watching the horrors of South African apartheid on television, it was odd to explain all this to my kiddo as she read this for school. Not only does Noah’s book detail his own experience, it makes you wonder how far, if at all, we’ve come. Regimes and governments may change, but so much of our world remains under siege.

Historical Fiction: My favorite genre — plenty of history, some filler, plenty of literary language.

Benedict’s Carnegie’s Maid: The tale of a young Irish girl who inadvertently becomes the maid for one of the wealthiest families in America.

Hopper’s Learning to See: Dorothea Lange. We all know the Depression-era photos, this novel offers a glimpse into her personal life and how the Depression never really left her.

Chiaverini’s The Enchantress of Numbers: Ada Lovelace — Ever wonder where computers really came from? What role did women have in mathematics in Victorian England?

Godwin’s The American Heiress: If you love Victoria, this is quite similar — but the American version with wealth, the hunt for a Duke to wed and plenty of damp English weather.

It’s clear I have a ways to go — luckily the pool is open and summer is nearly upon us. Happy Reading!

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Marie Kondo, Fly Lady and Shel Silverstein

I know I’m not the only one that caught a few episodes of Marie Kondo on Netflix over the past month — January is always a time to clean-out, donate and do a major tidy-up. The idea of tidying isn’t new, but the Zen-like sweetness of Marie Kondo, based on the number of articles on all kinds of publications about the show, is taking organization way beyond, “cleanliness is next to Godliness.” Kondo’s perfection is a contrast to other systematized, ritualized processes for home peace like Marla Cilley’s Fly Lady who has been around for more than a decade. What is it about Kondo that is so different from Fly Lady?

I was devoted to Fly Lady early on in my mothering years: this service teaches you to break down your home into zones, where to focus your attention, emails you a “flight plan” to-do list each day and like Kondo, talks about loving your home. Cilley’s “swish and shine” mantra keeps you and your home on-task, clutter and dirt-free and her method of tackling big projects systematically helps to avoid the overwhelm of whether to tackle the hall closet or the under-bed storage. Fly Lady is the every-woman of how to get dressed, put on mascara and out the door (while tossing in a load of laundry)– she’s almost the home maker version of hiking’s “leave no trace” as a means of showing love to your home and yourself.

Kondo on the other hand, never addresses cleaning — her focus is clearing. I never boxed items within a drawer until I watched Kondo do it, albeit I used leftover containers from our local Thai restaurant and not brand-new boxes from Target. Kondo’s approach to loving each item, then releasing feels a little uncomfortable and I’ll admit — it’s become a serious joke in our house. “Do I love these boots?” “Nope, never have — I love what they do for me, but I hate the way these look on my feet.” Because love is all about gradations — and being realistic, sometimes we must own and buy things we do not love though we can love their function or their service to us in a time of need. This is where Kondo’s method falls apart and plays into that which is so American — the temporariness of love, and the need to feel good at all times — and that high, the seratonin rush, that we feel during this glow of infatuation.

As Americans we are always looking for the answer – today, an hour ago, hurry up. I too feel this high when I conquer a box after moving, and we have plenty of boxes after many moves. But we need both, Kondo and Fly Lady, to live — and survive and thrive — in a modern life that challenges us mentally and physically each day. We need the high, the reward to reach into motivation — but we also need a method to take care of ourselves. So let’s power through the stuff in our drawers (thank you Marie) and at the same time, learn to “swish and swipe” each day under the methodical guidance of Fly Lady — who really needs her own show. With all the “adulting” classes targeting the under-30 to high school set, as a society, we really need the un-glad skill set, the practical how-to, of managing a home.

But now for some humor, as only Shel Silverstein can write — while there’s shame in the mess (we all know and feel it) — why can’t there be a bit of comfort and familiarity in the ramble?

Messy Room by Shel Silverstein

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater’s been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or–
Huh? You say it’s mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!

The Domino’s Driver that loves Frozen

So this is our front window — and it is only a window into the Frozen inspired decorations that have adorned the front of our house since my daughter’s birthday in October…yes, we are the people with the blue lights on our shrubs for the past three months that I’m sure a nervous, particular nelly nearby cannot stand. We live in one of those neighborhoods that still has “yard of the month” and “best daytime decorations” during Christmas. I do enjoy the caroling, though it has its ups and downs as an event (kids run amock, a fair amount of Scrooge-ish behavior, lack of cultural sensitivity, etc. – your basic suburban folly). On the upside it is lovely and green here, when not covered in snow — and I like to think our signage has helped to welcome the abundance of the white stuff this year.

Last week, we indulged…in Domino’s — the forbidden fruit of the pizza underworld. I’ve had my troubles with Domino’s and their politics over the years, and nutrtionally it’s a bomb but given where we live and there’s no place to pop in for a slice within several miles — we occassionally feast on this treat of sodium-riddled chessey-ness. And a glory their system truly is: order online, and watch the pulsing red bar graph and the bottom of the screen chug through your progress from successful order to “Tim” is on his way with your piping hot deliciousness. We can already taste the crispy cheese overrun that adheres pizza to box (not compostable here in the near South) from which dinner will soon produce.

It’s quite here so we totally here “Tim” pull up out front and greet him at the door — it’s a frigid night so I have a $5 ready for his speedy service — less than 20 minutes from “press order” to delivery. He’s a tall young man, blonde and immediately reminds me of boys I grew up with — clean and sporty — so if you imagine the usual Domino’s characters, he is completely not that. The first thing he says is not, “Here’s your pizza” but “I just love Frozen! I sing the songs at work all the time…some of the guys think I’m crazy, but I just love it. And I love your decorations.”

Well there you go…he is like the boys I grew up with in so many ways — loves a good musical, a Disney princess or two, a strong female voice in song. It’s not everyday you meet a pizza driver that does anything but grunt, but “Tim” (if that’s his real name and not just his Domino’s website identity) has the gift of gab and the love of music in his hear. I like to think maybe he put our little house and its decorations on his pizza delivery houses of charms…a nice view for a few minutes where a weary pizza driver in near zero temperatures can catch a breath and hum a few bars in the icy night.