Saturday, January 26, 2013
A tableau by Tabby - her collection of seashells we'd found on St. Pete Beach at Christmas, a tradition I hope to keep alive for the rest of my life. The shells make me smile. The beach has always been Heaven on earth to me, regularly calling my name like a siren song.
82% of homes in the U.S. have two or more car garages, but only 15% use them to park the car inside. Most of the garages are used as storage space. If that is not enough, the total self-storage rent-able space in the US is now 2.3 billion square feet [approximately 210 million square meters]. What are we storing? Why do we need so much storage space? I don’t know about others, but I store clutter. Yes, I do have quite a few valuable things, but they are buried in a mountain of clutter.
Bold print mine, but the rest of this article can be read here where the blogger tells you how to make money from your clutter.
My own car-less garage contains four different weight machines from yard sales that we do utilize. I have nine sons living at home, gym membership fees clearly out of our reach.
I have two lovely wooden bookshelves in the living room that I'm now aiming to be shut of as soon as is possible. The more empty space I see, the better I feel within. I've been culling my books, filling boxes to take to Goodwill.
I watched several episodes of a new show, Rehab Addict, that I'd DVRd, and I came away vastly impressed with this woman's ability to do carpentry and heavy duty construction. Dang, she's so good.
Lily was watching with me, our nightly bowl of hot air popped pop corn between us, adorned with only sea salt this time, and this lady, Nicole, was bragging that all the furniture in her lovely home was originally found in various garbage piles, cans, and dumpsters - upping her credibility and my own deep admiration of her skills.
So much to learn and do in this world, so little time...
Within the next 16 months half of my teenagers will have graduated from high school, with three more right behind them just a year later. I'm so on the cusp of an amazing amount of personal freedom I've not seen since 1973 when I birthed the very lovely Sarah Brown Beam, and unknowingly set out upon a path of parenting that I was then clueless about, oh wait, I'm still kind of lost in all this trauma soup.
What will I do with myself when they're all grown?
Are you kidding me? I still won't have enough time in the day to get it all done - so many opportunities, challenges, ideas, projects, travel, hobbies, interests, and grandchildren await me.
The Huffington Post has a TedTalks weekend edition, further spurring me on with a barrel of ideas, as if my own fount of curiosity will ever dry up? Not likely. Not at all.
Literally my house has fallen down around me for years, what with the major levels of destruction one finds with traumatized children. It was mainly unintentional, a by-product of their unmitigated (yet understandable) fury.
Indeed our own garage door genie failed to work after the first month it was installed 14 years ago, the one who broke it on purpose later pulled knives on folks and went to prison, I have entire window frames that need to be replaced, part of my original roof needs major work, and the list goes on and on and on.
Other than driving Tabby and Nando and their respective science fair projects to school yesterday I went nowhere, basically collapsed on the sofa like a slug, emotionally whacked out, mentally exhausted, nearly drooling and slack-jawed from what we'd endured previously, but I slept well last night. Grandma'd cooked 90% of supper, I'd added a pot of lentils for us vegans, but oh my, whenever Grandma cooks down an applesauce from scratch, I'm a goner, eating the entire batch with a big spoon. She'd put hours of work into peeling and preparing that which I gobbled down quickly.
Our winter storm never materialized, which suits me, I didn't want to lose our power, but certainly could've used the moisture. It'll be 72 degrees one day this upcoming week according to predictions, which'll be grand for me as I'm close to losing my ever-loving mind, as I often do during winter which is depressing enough just by being cold. Yes, I realize I'm clueless regarding true cold, but color me happy about that loss.
I have 450 onion seedlings to get planted but it can be done quickly as there's really nothing to it. Just pop it into the ground which I've already prepared beautifully.
My son did not make the high school soccer team cuts which doesn't really surprise me. His reputation preceded him, years of bad grades, he is a magnificent soccer player, but doesn't take very well to being coached, some legendary melt-downs in his past. He was sad about it, but I took a different tact with him, "God must have a different plan for you," I told his crestfallen self. He's going on 18 now, time to learn some job responsibility. "Let's find you a job, get you a car," and he visibly brightened up. I can only pray that he'll respond well to employers - unlike some of his older birth siblings.
Such a treacherous and dizzying path I walk, balancing love and grace (unmerited favor), discipline and disengaging, guidance and support, while simultaneously neither suffocating nor enabling. It's hard enough with regular kids on the cusp of adulthood, throw in the trauma, and oh my goodness, it's flat out exhausting. Then add in other emotional issues and this is aerobic every single day.
And from TedTalks: Ideas are not set in stone. When exposed to thoughtful people, they morph and adapt into their most potent form. TEDWeekends will highlight some of today's most intriguing ideas and allow them to develop in real time through your voice.
See? I just get excited about life, even after all the Hell we've endured, it has so been out-weighed by progress and good stuff. That I can still say that, amazes even me.