simplicity – Page 3 – Angel Wheeler

My 47 Things

Do you ever feel like you’re surrounded by junk, and clutter, and crap? Have you ever considered cutting back on the “things” that fill your home and your life? Recently I visited a blog link that my cousin sent me called www.livingbeyondthestars.com, where this guy lives with very little and travels around the world making money from his blog. When he started he owned 57 things, but now claims he does not count his things anymore, but continues to live out of a bag. This idea may have been born from the 100 thing challenge that you can read about on www.guynameddave.com, he actually has a family so does not count shared items on his list. Anyway, the idea is to live with very little.

I began to wonder if I could live with 50 items. So before I read the posts on what the 50 or 100 things were, I took a piece of paper and began writing down what I needed. I began this project kind of with a “stranded on a deserted island” mentality, or “if I was living on the streets” mentality, but hopefully I never am.

I thought about what “things” are important to me, what is a necessity to me, and what makes me life easier. If they fit the categories, then I added them to the list.

Really, I wish you would try this. I had interesting findings. Just get a piece of paper and start listing 50 thingsyou need in your life. Or 100. Truthfully, by the time I got to number 47, I was walking around the house looking for something to write down.

Here’s my list below, but before you read it, try it for yourself first. It only takes about 3-5 minutes.

Come back when you’re done.

But before you go…..let me give you a couple of rules that I didn’t know when I made my list.

Evidently minamilists get to count things like socks and panties in one group and don’t have to count them as each individual item. I listed each panty separately when I first created my list, so I actually did some adjusting and ended up with less than 50.

Oh, I must preface this with a disclaimer or three. This list would only work if I did not have a job, or have to be in the public at all. Because of course, I didn’t list make-up, dress clothes or stilettos, which I wear on a regular basis {joke, insert laughter here}. Disclaimer #2—I’d be doing laundry every 3 days. Disclaimer #3—I’d practically be like a homeless person living out of a bag, Disclaimer #4—I’m not doing this, just thought I would see what I would need if I tried. One “radical” commitment I have made however, is to buy NO new clothes for the entire year. The. Entire. Year. Yikes.

THE LIST:

1. Bible

2. toothbrush

3. toothpaste

4. hairbrush

5. Medication/Vitamins

6. Jeans

7. Jeans

8. Jeans

9. undies

10. bra (but if I’m not working or going in public much, this is negotiable)

11. t-shirt

12. t-shirt

13. long sleeved shirt

14. sweatshirt

15. sweatshirt

16. jacket

17. socks

18. tennis shoes

19. coat

20. boots

21. pencil

22. notepad

23. shampoo

24. deodorant

25. soap

26. towel

27. washrag

28. bed

29. sheets

30. pillow

31. spoon

32. fork

33. knife

34. bowl

35. plate

36. cup

37. pot

38. skillet

39. camera

40. blanket

41. gloves

42. lantern

43. ponytail holder

44. first aid kit

45. And just because I have room on my list, I’m going to say laptop

46. and cell phone

47. Pajamas

And I still have some wiggle room, especially if I was going for 100 things.

This isn’t a lot, but I think it’s enough. If you have a family, it’s going to be harder, but you could even consider going for 100 things per person. The hardest part of this for me would be getting rid of my memorabilia or sentimental possessions.

Okay, so tell me now, what does your list look like?

Cattle Prattle

My husband thinks after 6 years of marriage, I should know all things cow related. Here’s our conversation today (in a nutshell).

Me: I think I’ll get a mule.

Him: Why?

Me: Why not?

(pause)

Him: I rode a mule once, it was a good sonab****

Me: Isn’t a mule a cross between a horse and a donkey?

Him: Yes

Me:  What are boy and girl mules called?

Him: I think they’re called Johns and Mollies.

Me: I thought they were jacks and jennys.

Him: Those are donkeys. There are chickens and  roosters and hens.

Me: (greatly confusticated, which is just my made up word, so don’t try to look for it in the dictionary. You won’t find it.) What’s the difference between a chicken and a hen?

chicken and hen----no difference

Him: Nothing. That’s what I’m trying to say. (He begins to use his hands, as I’m a visual learner. He puts his hands together in a group) There’s chickens. (He checks in to make sure I’m following him) And then there are roosters (hands to the left) and hens (hands to the right). Like there are people. (hands in a group) And there are men (hands to the left) and women (hands to the right).

I’m catching on ever so slowly. My glazed-over look is beginning to diminish with just a glimmer of spark returning to my eyes. Then he continues:

cattle and cow----no difference

Him: There’s cattle. And then there are bulls and cows.

Me: Don’t forget heifers and steers!

Him: (closing his eyes and shaking his head) That’s different.

Me: I’m confused.

Him: I don’t understand why you don’t get this.

Two hours later and I’m still scratching my head.

Never doubt there are awfully important conversations occurring in this household.

World-changing conversations.

Just a few minutes he called to irately inform me that he cannot buy a 12 ounce aluminum can of Dr. Pepper at the Allsup’s convenience store. They sell bottles in all sizes, and a six-pack of cans with a sign that reads “Do not break the 6=pack”, but not a single serving can of Dr. Pepper is to be purchased. So he went to a Taylor Mart convenience store and the same situation presented itself. What is this world coming to?

I think we’re heading to Washington to protest on the White House steps or march on the Pentagon.

Making Your own Baby Food

A recent motto I’m attempting to sink into my soul is “use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without!”

Today I want to tell you about my frugalicious friend and neighbor Revelle.

She is doing something that makes me happier than a coondog on a bare leg.

Let me tell you about it.

But first, you must meet her precious 5 month old, Jaxon.

He was smiling at me right before this, I promise.

I think he likes me, don’t you?

For all the moms out there who are wanting to say no to consumerism and save some bucks, with 30 minutes and a food processer, Revelle will show you how.

She is making her own baby food for this little solid-food eater.

A jar of sweet potatoes in the grocery store runs about one dollar per jar.

Instead, she bought 3 sweet potatoes for $2.36. She baked them, peeled them, and cut them up. Then put them in a food processor and pureed them.

She then poured them into these little ice trays with lids and froze them.

She was able to make 40 one ounce servings for $2.36.

Math has never been my best subject, but I know that figures out to saving some serious moolah.

Plus it’s fresh and made in your own kitchen with your own germs.

And that’s as good as it gets.

Unless you add butter.

And marshmallows.

Journey to the Land of Less is More Mile 3: Just Say NO!

About seven years ago I lived in a small 2 bedroom house on a busy street named Somerville. It was a little tan house with dark brown trim. There was nothing fancy about the place. It didn’t have a garage, or a second bathroom, or a fireplace, but it had a quaint porch. It was an extension of my living room. My dad bought me a wooden rocking chair from the Cracker Barrel. One morning I went out to sit in my chair, and nearly busted my tailbone. It had been thieved in the night. Some low-life had crept upon my porch in the dark and stolen my rocker. I felt violated. And my dad bought me another second one. He said he hopes whoever stole it gets a splinter in their butt when they rock in it.

I had my sister’s porch swing hanging from the edge with a garland of sunflowers twisted around the chains. I had a few plants, a decorative flag that hung from a pillar, it was an inviting place. I sat on that porch every evening, every Saturday, every Sunday, watched the cars drive past, and waved at people I knew. And some I didn’t. Friends and family would come and sit with me. We’d swing or rock and visit. It holds good memories, even if I did get my rocker stolen.

Also in that house there was a small pantry. Just two doors that opened up with narrow little shelves. Inside those doors I hung my “pantry emails”. The emails that touched me. The ones that really made an impact. The ones I wanted to read. And read again.

I began blogging in November of 2008. I really do not remember why I started blogging, except for needing a place to write my thoughts and stories down. My very first blog post was a copy of a “pantry email” entitled Great Advice. I reread it today, and decided to camp awhile on advice number four.

Say No to projects that won’t fit into your time schedule, or that will compromise your mental health.

In my journey to the Land of Less is More, I want to unclutter not only my surroundings, but also my time. After reflecting on how I am spending my time, I found some places to say No.

To my house I say No! No to the pointless cleaning that only dirties itself up again.

To the book I am reading, I say No! You are mediocre, and not worth my time. I hope you turn out well.

To the barking dog next door I say No! Although you are not a project, my mental health is on the line here. You. Will. Stop. Barking. Although I cannot state how as it may be used against me in a court of law.

And to my sister Jolea, my exercise partner, my FIRM buddy, I must say No. No to the workouts. No to the jumps and the squats. I am 2 workouts behind schedule. I don’t want to do it. And it is making me fatter.

By this I mean the exercise, not the box of 24 packages of Rolos I’ve eaten since Christmas.

Four Things

I have few things I want to share with you today.

First Thing:

We’re studying the water cycle in science up at the elementary school. You remember your second grade science class don’t you? Or has it been many moons? For a quick review, here’s a song about the water cycle sung to the tune of If You’re Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands.

Ready?

A one, a two, A one, two, three, four…..

Water travels in a circle, yes it does (clap, clap)

It goes up as evaporation, forms a cloud as condensation, fall to the ground as precipitation, yes it does! (clap, clap)

I was reading the Bible this morning, I am still in the book of Job. At this point a young man named Elihu is ripping into Job, tearing him a new one, putting him into his place. He’s telling him about how awesome God is, and then he says these words:

Take a long, hard look. See how great he is—-inifinite, greater than anything you could ever imagine or figure out! He pulls water up out of the sea, distills it, and fills up his rain-cloud cisterns. Then the skies open up and pour out soaking showers on everyone. Does anyone have the slightest idea how this happens?

I read that and was bamboozled. It’s the water cycle, right there…..evaporation, condensation, precipitation. I don’t know why I was so surprised to find this in the Bible. I mean, God is the creator of everything after all. What took scientists until the 16th century to learn and label with big, scientific sounding words, Elihu knew 2000-1800 years B.C. Awesome, isn’t it?

Second Thing:

I’ve never been a magazine subscriber until recently. I spent a good $50 on magazine subscriptions when we bought our Little Trailer House on the Prairie.

These magazines will teach you how to garden, can food, cook chickens, milk cows, build solar panels, bake bread, make hammocks, and asundry other very informational things. Someday I fear us younger generations are going to wish we knew how not to depend on commercialism.

Some great magazines to read if you’re wanting to learn how to live off the land and become more self-sufficient are the following:

GRIT

Mother Earth News

Hobby Farms

Mary Jane’s Farm

Today I received this new GRIT magazine in the mail from my grandmother-in-law.

We call her M.O. It’s all about turkeys.

She also sent this book home with Jason recently.

It teaches how to make home-made beer. Among other important things.

But the item that I received in the mail yesterday that made my heart go pitter-pat, was new sticky return address labels.

With my name and address of course.

But these aren’t just any old kind of return address labels.

They have pictures on them.

And not of flags either.

But farm animals.

A chicken, a cow, and a rooster.

And look at this. Doesn’t she make you want to just snuggle up with her?

I’ve never wanted a pig. Never ever.

Until now.

I can’t resist him any longer.

Help me, help me, help me.

Third Thing:

I’ve been unsubscribing to a lot of my emails lately. I click unsubscribe and a box pops up that says something like, “Thank you. You won’t be receiving any more emails from us” But then suddenly, an alert of a new email message pops up from the exact same company who just lied to me telling me I won’t be receiving any more emails from them that says, “We’re sad to see you go, would you please fill out a short survey letting us know what’s wrong.” Or “Oops, did you mean to unsubscibe from us? If it’s a mistake, please click here.” That’s a little bit annoying to me. Just needed to vent.

Fourth Thing:

I read a little snippet today that the earth’s rotation is moving in such a way that our zodiacal (if that’s even a word) signs are changing. So guess what? You may no longer be a Leo or a Sagittarius. I was a Pisces, but now I’m an Aquarius.

Don’t let it shatter your world. I think it was just a bunch of drunk on home-made beer farmers that decided it.

The Stranger

A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around from then on.

As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors: Mum taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey. But the stranger… he was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies.

If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to the first major league ball game. He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn’t seem to mind.

Sometimes, Mum would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to the kitchen for peace and quiet.

(I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave.)

Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the stranger never felt obligated to honour them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our home – not from us, our friends or any visitors. Our long time visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush. My Dad didn’t permit the liberal use of alcohol but the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly, and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too freely!) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing..

I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked… And NEVER asked to leave.

More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you could walk into my parents’ den today, you would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.

His name?….

We just call him ‘TV.’

This was an email I received recently.

It really made me think.

My momma says it is all Rhett Butler’s fault, for when he said, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a d*&n”, that was the beginning of cussing on the TV, and the world’s gone to pot ever since.

My challenge is still out there for you to turn off the TV for one day, not a day when you’re gone from home shopping or at a ball game, but a weeknight or even a Saturday at home, when it’s a real sacrifice.

“We didn’t have electricity and that meant we didn’t have T.V. We had darn poor radio too. So that meant we did the strangest things at night … we talked to each other!” WADDIE MITCHELL, Cowboy Poet

Here chicky, chicky, chicky

It’s cold today. The sky is dressed in a blanket of gray clouds. The trees have long been stripped of their flashy wardrobe. They look bleak against the gray of the sky. But there is a sense of beauty in a bare tree. A glimmer of hope for the coming spring. The smell of snow hangs thick in the air. The birds are low today. They are perched in the trees and sitting on the lawns. An old weather lore claims, “when birds fly low, expect rain and a blow.”

Speaking of birds, I want a chicken farm.

I said a chicken farm, not a chicken ranch guys.

After scouring the internet, perusing magazines, and reading old books for information on everything I need to know about chickens, I still have no idea what I am doing. But I’m learning.

So far I’ve learned I’m scared of chickens.

And the snakes their eggs might attract.

And racoons, coyotes, hawks, and owls.

Our new place already has a hand-made, southern-engineered, make-shift chicken coop and some nesting boxes, but it needs some work. My plan is to fix it up, but not buy anything new. I’m going to use all old materials that I can scrounge up.

I have a few pictures of what I have to work with.

This is the front of the coop, which I’m going to leave alone. I like these rugged, half-painted side board planks.

Here are 10 nesting boxes for the little layers. Throw in some straw and make it cozy for them.

This prickly pear needs to be dug up.

The back and the side is made of this old tin, also the roof is tin.

I’m going to leave that alone as well. There is chicken wire surrounding the coop and there is a little chicken run for the flock to get out to get some sunshine. I’m going to secure the wire and make sure predators can’t sneak in, I also plan on covering the top with chicken wire to keep the hawks and owls out. On the days I’m home, I’m going to allow them to free range out on the acreage.

I’m going to add some perches on the inside of the coop and I’m going to add on one side of the coop a little window with a ladder so they can climb in and get in their nesting boxes.

Kind of like this coop. But not at all, really. Isn’t this the most elaborate chicken house you’ve ever seen? It’s nicer than the trailer I’m soon to be living in.

Last night I ordered my chickens. I am giddy with excitement. They are expected to arrive on March 14. I scheduled them to arrive spring break, since I have to be their little chicky mama. They will only be 1 day old when they arrive. They will need a brooding box for several weeks while they grow. I had to get a minimum of 15, which is entirely too many for my little family of 2, but I am preparing myself for some fatalities. Death is a part of living. I made sure that I ordered cold hardy birds, with a docile temperment, who are decent egg layers. All female. I’m not quite ready for a rooster yet.

I got 5 Barred Plymouth Rocks,

5 Buff Orpingtons, they are the color of man’s golden pocketwatch.
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And 5 Black Australorps.

Of course like everything else in my life, this will be a learning experience.

Boy, oh, boy, am I excited. March 14th can’t get here fast enough!!

Home Improvement

Continue reading “Home Improvement”

Journey to the Land of Less is More Mile #2–Emails

This is the year for simplification in my life. I am working towards uncluttering my surroundings and living with less. I’m taking baby steps, even though to me they are like miles. My destination is the Land of Less is More. It’s my imagined Nirvana where the capital city is Simplicity.

I spent some time this past week cleaning out my emails. I’m unsubscribing to all the emails that dominate my inbox and my time. Instead of just deleting them like I’ve been doing for years now, I’ve been taking a few extra seconds, sometimes minutes, to roll down to the bottom and hit unsubscribe.

I’ve said good-bye to constant reminders to lose weight and tips for a healthier me.

Adios to ads for 20% off and Last Day Sales.

Sayonara to instructions for a weekend project to build a backyard pergola.

Ciao to Daily recipes for the world’s best chocolate cake.

So long, See ya later, Hasta La Vista, baby.

In cleaning out my emails, however, there are some that I cannot delete. I’m very sentimental to emails that I receive from people just saying hi. Not the forwards about what a great friend I am or wishing me well, but a personal note. This sentementality must be a love language of mine. I’m tender to letters, cards, and emails that are genuine. I have kept letters from my grandmother from when I would visit my dad in Oklahoma in the summer and she would write me. I have a note from my second grade teacher telling me how much she enjoyed having me in her class. I realize she gave one to everyone, but it still means something to me. I save cards from my husband that I know he stood and pored over and even though all he wrote was “love, jason” they still mean the world to me.

I have emails from my dad too. I’ve saved them all. As I spent some time going back and reading them, I smiled a bunch. He never pays much attention to spelling or punctuation.

I thought I’d share a sampling. Even though you may not know him, being Bob is his job, so listen to him.

About Exercise:

“i’m really enjoying it, although i’m sooo tired by the end of the week. hope i can stay focused and motivated. i kno i’m never going to be small again, but, who wants to be a little old man, then everyone in town would be beating me up.”

On Learning How to Use Email/computer

“hey ang, got your email earlier and just found out how to get back to you. how ya’all doin’. can’t find the question mark.”

On grandchildren:

“i’m getting awful anxious for little hannah to make her appearance soon, aren’t you? That little ashlynn is such a little apple dumplin’ aint she? this grandpaing is getting to be quite a kick. think i’ll just live forever.”

On pictures he doesn’t want posted on facebook:

“my gosh, angel, lets get rid of that pic of me and you sitting outside your house. it looks like i forgot to p-ut my teeth in or sompin.”

When my brother lost his artificial floating on a raft in the Illinois river:

“i’m so sorry that stan lost his leg. at least he has another one
at home,”

On gangsta talk:

“hey ang, what up, homes?”

On poker (I have no idea what he’s talking about here, except he didn’t win me an inheritance)

“hey girls, i played in a million dollar freeroll tournament yesterday, and
only made one bad play, and it cost me. i was about 2, 800 in chips and we
were down to about 1100 players. i was dealt pocket nines, and bet out for
about 800 bucks. the guy smooth called, and i put him on A-big, or a pretty
good hand like that. over the next two cards we got all our money in the
middle, i turned over the nines and he had aces in the hole. i say i made a
bad play because i led out bettin on the turn and river. i let him trap me,
i should have been checkin on the 4th card, and if he bet big, i could lay
the nines down. but, i wassn’t thinkin. i find a lot of people doin this in
a game with over 5,000 people in it. also people playin, 9-2 off suit, or
5-3 suited and suckin outon people. people that really have no idea what
they’re doin.”

On pets:

“so, you have a new dog…well, y’all be good to him and make sure he earns his keep. it sounds like he has more training then i could ever give him if he knows what “whoa” means. our stupid dog thought it meant “go at a high speed away from here” because that’s what he did when the gate was opened. i still miss him tho.”

On coming for a visit:

“I’m just going to drive all the way out to gray county, then i may get a room if i am
so tired i can’t continue. Once my truck gets a whiff of Pampa, it’s awful
hard to shut down, so i’ll be coming in at a high lope. Hope that your old
General Moters product don’t shake its self to death on that one stretch of
hi-way. Angel if you can put me up (with out me having to do anything)(and
for free) lemmee know, ok?…………………..love you’ns, “

On Whining:

“i’m so lonely. noone ever emails me. i wonder what my kids are doing. probably eating icecream.

no body ever comes to see me. the neighbors won’t speak to me. my dog ran away. woe is me.”

On Advice:

“my best advice i can give is this: DON’T GET FAT.PERIOD.”

On Love:

“remember i love you both. so love me back…..dad”

I love you back dad. Thanks for the emails.

The Land of Less is More—Mile #1—Cleaning out the closet

Today’s gargantuan leap in my journey to the Land of Less is More begins with my closet.

I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

I needed direction so I found a site with 7 simple steps. http://www.happyslob.com/closets.html

I got scared off by the first step which says to take everything out of my closet, yes everything, so I developed my own system.

Angel’s Steps to Cleaning out the Closet.

Step 1: Adopt this motto: If you’re going to be a bear, be a grizzly.

Step 2: Put on some music that gets you in the groove.

Step 3: Sit down and drink a Red Bull and tell yourself you really need to get up and clean the closet.

Step 4: Get a cardboard box. Or seven.

Step 5: Begin in the back where 700 hangers are crammed within an inch of space. These are the clothes you more than likely haven’t worn in 10 years and are easier to say good-bye to.

Step. 6: Attempt to try on a pair of size 8 capri pants that you love.

Step 7: Sink into depression when you cannot get them over your pasty, jiggly thighs.

Step 8: Relieve depression by eating a pack of Rolos from the case your husband bought you for Christmas.

Step 9: Repeat steps 6 and 7, ad nauseam.

Step 10: Regret that you recently cleaned out your email and unsubscribed from Weight Watchers, Losing it with Jillian Michaels, The Firm, and Spanx.

Step 11: Resolve to lose weight in 2011.

Step 12: Come to the harsh realization that you will never wear some of your clothes again. Ever.

Step 13: Adopt this rule: “If you haven’t worn it in a year, say adios to it.”

Step 14: Get your butt back to work clearing out your clothes.

Step 15: After 13 minutes, lose momentum and crash from your sugar high.

Step 16: Waste an hour on facebook

Step 17: Slap yourself three times and drag yourself back into the bedroom.

Step 18: Work until you lose momentum…..about 10 minutes.

Step 19: Take a nap on the couch since your bed is covered in clothes and cheap plastic hangers.

Step 20: Wake up refreshed.

Step 21: Realize your husband needs a place to sleep tonight. Get up and finish the job.

Step 22: Take the boxes to a local charity.

Step 23: Reward yourself with ice cream on the way home.

Step 24: Step back and look at your clean closet and feel good about your accomplishment, but not your thighs.