Organize, But Stay Home to Do It

As the holidays loom, we look within our homes and take stock of all the crap we already have lying around and think "where is that tree going to go?  What about my snowman collection that I started when my first kid was born?"  My answer to that query is... hell, I don't know WHERE you're going to put those snowmen, but let's start with what is already cluttering up the casa.  

I love the Container Store.  LOVE.  Have loved since the outpost opened near my childhood home in Houston.  The boxes.  The hooks.  The labels.  It's heaven.  BUT it costs money.  And I don't feel that bringing shopping bags (which ARE reusable AND recyclable, though!) of more stuff you bought is the answer to decluttering and minimizing.  It just can't be. It's counter-intuitive.  So, I don't want you to run there first.  

You have heard the term "re-purposing", right?  It's kind of sexy these days, to take the old unused tool box from the garage and turn it in to a jewelry box.  You didn't have to buy anything, and you didn't use any gas to get anywhere.  Carbon footprint = still a size 5.  I don't know how to make a jewelry box from a tool box.   I am not going to go - all instructional manual click here for .pdf - on you.  

What I am going to tell you is that you can organize and purge with the powers in your home and your head.    I am going to offer a few tips that can be carried out right now, before the Christmas boxes come caroling from your attic and garage. 

Light bulbs.  Are they all in one place?  Do you have spares of the ones you use frequently? And does your family know where they are kept? These should be in a box so that the little night light bulbs don't get crushed by the floodlights!

Batteries.  An absolute necessity at holiday time.  Buy the AA and AAA in bulk at your big box store.  Keep them in the fridge (if you have room) in a sealed plastic shoebox (you know, the ones you bought at Container Store that you never put shoes in?).  Again, remind the family where they are kept and that they canNOT take the last AA without telling you that you're now out of batteries.  Punishment is waterboarding for that offense.  

Nails.  You probably want to hang things on the wall that you drag out during the holidays. Put these in the mason jars purchased to use at all your summer outdoor festivities.  Label accordingly.  Put on shelf, probably near the batteries.   And find that hammer!  

First Aid.  If you have family coming, you're going to need it.  A band-aid, some pain reliever.  A thermometer?  You would be alarmed at how many people present to my clinic (real job) and tell me that their "thermometer is broken". "I couldn't find it". "The batteries are dead". (Should I should refer them to two paragraphs ago?)   I will, of course, remind you to keep all medications away from both children and party guests, but for your sanity keep all these items together.  In another one of those clear shoeboxes, maybe?  Or the clear bin you have under your sink with expired medicines you should trash anyway.  Check those expiry dates!

You're almost ready for Thanksgiving!  Soon, we will discuss the kitchenware.  I hope your pre-holiday planning will be easier with today's suggestions/admonishments/demands.  Happy organizing!

Holidays and Minimalism -- Mutually Exclusive Events?

We are in that sketchy period between Halloween and Thanksgiving now.  You are ABOUT to toss that pumpkin, rationalizing that it is STILL harvest-y, so maybe it should stay for a week or two?  Even though it's rotting and leaking pumpkin exudate on the table.  

And what about Thanksgiving decorations?  My mother certainly never brought out any the day after All Hallow's Eve.  I can't recall any stuffed pilgrims frolicking on her tablescape.  In fact, she didn't have a tablescape.  She would have no idea what the hell a tablescape is anyway, were she still here at my Turkey Day table.  

Each year we talk about holiday creep.  My younger son's birthday is the day after Halloween, and when we are enjoying the celebration of his birth and a "Holly Jolly Christmas" pipes in over the speakers at the trampoline park, he threatened a coup.  "I am barely even BORN in November, and today I have to hear Christmas music?"

I love Christmas, but when it shows up in the eleventh month, it is gross.  Can we at least enjoy our week off from school to celebrate a holiday that is so politically muted (no pilgrims and Indians at the elementary Thanksgiving feast anymore??) that we only know mashed potatoes and big college football games are a part of some mystery four day fest? 

We at Cowtown Minimalist hope that THIS year, you will find it in your heart to enjoy one holiday at a time.  You can do this by minimizing the amount of excess you drag out and the hoopla you feel obliged to participate in.  

I have a friend who jokes (but longingly hopes) that the family Christmas decorating should be accomplished by opening a drawer, pulling out a snowman, a Nativity scene, and hanging the stockings up by the chimney with *sorta* care.  Oh, and a tree in the corner so everyone knows where to drop off the loot.  That's it.  Would their Christmas suck if they did that?  I doubt it.  

Pinterest, Hallmark, and Hobby Lobby  all encourage, dare I say inSIST, that we make memories (although Hobby Lobby won't help us make them on Sundays) through festive decor, clothing and that godforsaken troublesome elf.   No No No!  That isn't how a relaxing holiday is supposed to go.  You're frantically waking at 6 am because you forgot to move the friggin elf to another impish hiding spot.   Don't even talk to me about Black Friday or Thursday or Wednesday night or whatever.  I used to participate in the shopping fun, but once the lines outside of Target started forming Halloween night, I started skipping it.  I think I am still ok.  

So take stock of your Christmas cheer now.  As you sort through your Christmas boxes in the next week or two, try to display what is memorable and truly has meaning for you.  Maybe even keep the garbage can handy for pitching out some of the stuff that usually stays in the box anyway because you really don't care about the reindeer salt and pepper shakers.  The kids will still have a happy Christmas even if your house doesn't look like a Santa junkyard. Promise.

Daddy's House and Dorm Room Decisions

We took the summer off here at Cowtown Minimalist.  Life dealt me some rodeos, and I had to keep trying to stay on for eight seconds.   Suffice to say I didn't break any bones, but I got bruised and battered some.  

One of the rodeos involved an emptying of my Dad's house.  He died in November 2014, and we had finally gotten it on the market and ready to hand over to another owner.  Which means it must be emptied.  Cleaned out.   I discovered that he had probably not recycled, given away, or tossed a book in 50 years.  He had college textbooks, photo books of his childhood home's mountain ranges, and many volumes of rare books with carefully cut dust jackets.   Many were cataloged in meticulously ordered hand written cards.  Almost all were stacked neatly and arranged by author and subject.  But there were hundreds.  Thousands, maybe?

How do you minimize books?  I had to be brutal.  I mostly knew which were valuable, both emotionally and monetarily.   Daddy had written a number neatly in pencil on the fly page of each that was cataloged.   I remember authors' names leaving his lips throughout my life, so the ones that meant something to me were packed in small, lift-able boxes.  The others? Gifted, sold, donated.  It was hard.  

The house has new owners now.  I hope that they fill that wall of built-in bookshelves with meaningful books and not junk that has to be dusted --  cheap remnants of a cruise ship pit stop or perhaps a glass rhino collection.  The new folks probably don't read my blog, so sadly, the shelves will likely bear the burden of clutter.  

Just as I was brushing the dirt from my boots after surviving THAT rodeo, my son was navigating his last summer at home.  College bound.  Nest-leaving.  Wait -- another life event already?   

Nothing says minimalist like sharing 250 square feet of living space with a kid from Houston that you haven't even met yet.  My children have been fortunate in not having to share a bedroom and each having his own bathroom.    And now, Boy #1 is deciding which of his worldly goods will accompany him to Haas Hall Room 214.   

As he is, in fact, a boy, THAT clears up a lot of questions right there, as to how much crap goes with him.  He will NOT take any stuffed animals, or framed photos of loved ones (save for his pretty cheerleader girlfriend who still is in his hometown),  or remnants of high school successes.  He is far more concerned about the resolution of his new graduation present TV and how fast the internet service is in the dorm.    But we will still give him survival tools. 

What makes me happy to see in my minimalist offspring is that he feels that as long as he has some basics, he will be fine.  There is a Walmart in his college town, and also a Target if he is feeling REALLY high-end.   Any necessity can be acquired fairly simply.  But he sees that it is the EXPERIENCE that matters now.  Not being trapped in the clutches of stuff from home. Wandering around your new town, your new campus, seeing new people.  Your very OWN room key on your lanyard key chain hanging from the pocket of your basketball shorts (a standard look for athletes, I believe).   

It's an adventure.  Which can only truly occur of you're not trapped in a quagmire of crap and clutter.  Sure, the thought of his drawers being left open with clothes dripping out while he trots off to chem lab will disturb my mental equilibrium, but it's HIS minimalist life now. Perhaps he will acquire some books to savor along the way (but not TOO many...).

Godspeed to my College Minimalist.  You're well-equipped, my boy, both in knowledge and in closet organizers.   And your mom is in the chute awaiting her next eight second ride...

Organizing by the Book

On Mother's Day, that ONE day that we call dibs on, I can usually enlist help from my boys with garage cleaning or some yard chores without the typically required pleading or bribery/positive reinforcement.   They don't love chores.  But I think they love me. 

This weekend, the tasks were much more Herculean: cleaning out my parents' home. My father died six months ago, and he was a book collector.  Not a hoarder, because they were all very tidily arranged, and the ones that were antique and valuable all meticulously cataloged for inventory.   He did not, however, EVER cull the herd.  He had my mother's second year university french lit textbooks.  He had our 1980 World Book encyclopedia set, replete with year end summaries for the next ten years ahead. He had a copy of every H.G. Wells novel and textbook ever published.  Two copies of some.   But then he left me.  And left the planet. 

So I sat in his library and cried.  Wiped tears off dust jackets that he had measured and cut for each first edition in his collection.   Pulled books off shelves and there were more behind them.  Hand written cards that described each book in his antiquarian collection were in a box, detailing the date of purchase, the book's provenance, and price paid.    So how do you minimize THAT?  How, indeed.  

I can't keep them all.  Being a minimalist forbids it, but logic also tells me that I can't hang on to things when I will always have my memories, the stories I tell my boys, and the DNA my parents gave me that makes me who I am.   But Daddy's library was his lifeblood. It defined him.  Although I will never have books that approach his numbers, books define me to a degree.  I love to hold them, smell them, and imagine those before me who may have held the same book.  

So this Mother's Day, I culled the herd.  I donated the zillion paperbacks and academic texts and recycled the magazines and journals he had in excess.  But then,  I made room in my life for the important ones.  I packed, in order on the shelves,  all of the books that were his pride and joy and drove them 250 miles in a U-Haul to my study to replicate their habitat.   It's not substantially minimal.  But it is perfect.  

Happy Mother's Day, friends.  

Mommy Calling Cards? Who Thought of That?

It has recently come to my attention that there is something out there in the parentosphere decidedly un-minimalist.  It calls itself "Mommy Calling Cards".  Upon further review of the interwebs, I learned that many pricey stationery sites are producing business card-esque stock with Mommy's name, the name of her precious offspring, and their contact information (do you put the three-year-old's twitter handle too? Or too much?).  And you're supposed to hand these out at the park, random birthday parties, in the checkout line at Target.

Are you kidding me.  

Olympic Parenting competi-moms can now hand out business cards.   And your identity is solely that of "Ava's Mom". Seriously.  Susan B. Anthony would be so proud.  That woman worked her fingers to the bone to get herself on a crappy US coin no one likes, and YOU are only "Dylan's Chauffeur/Boo Boo Kisser" (and no, I am not making those up.  Really on a card).  

Who decided parenting was so complicated?  How about walking up to the mom who ALSO drives a juice box tainted Honda Odyssey and TELL her your name, and that the kid in the sandbox with kitty poop in his mouth is yours.  And hey, I like martinis if you do, too.  See?  Simple.  Then you call each other on your cute monogrammed-cased iPhone 6Pluses, and shazam!  You have each other's number!  

Yes, I realize her number will likely remain in my contacts as JUST the number, and forever I will wonder if that was Hailey's mom's number or does it belong to the nutbag who doesn't give her kid anything that has ever come from a box.  

In the words of Jenny Lawson from The Stir, I propose to hand out my own cards.  They will say "I VACCINATE" or "SORRY MY KID BIT/HIT/PEED ON YOUR KID".  Conversation may likely be unnecessary after some of those are dispersed.  

Minimalism embraces life wrapped in simplicity.  Parenting is not that complicated.  It's hard, but it isn't complicated.  Please don't complicate your minimalist existence by thinking it's cute to hand out your/your kids' names on a card to get to know other parents.  Just be the cool mom at the park with the kid who eats dirt and simple carbohydrates on occasion.  The mommy card carriers won't like you, but they probably don't like vodka martinis either.  

Parent on, Minimalist friends!

Your Kids - the Anti-Minimalists

Recently at dinner, the family and I were talking about a news story we heard of a former NBA player who had been paid over $83 million in his career, yet owed over $300,000 to various sources without the ability to pay. He also had four baby mamas to whom he was financially responsible.  My kids were amazed that he had made so much money!  The houses!  The clothes!  The bankruptcy court!  

Co-parent reminded my boys that it's not how much you make; it's how much you keep.  When you trade that money for tangible things, logic would say you don't have the money anymore.  And you have more stuff.  

Kids are crap magnets.  Every little school note, Target dollar spot find, and treat bag trinket seem to find their way to your house, your van floor, and your kids' closets.  To a six-year-old, more must ALWAYS be better!  They scoff at us minimalists if we dare try to purge the evil matchbox cars and Barbie shoes that are crammed in the baseboards while they are still awake.  Stupid!  Every mom knows you wait till the kids are at preschool or a sleepover before you troll their rooms with a trash bag?!?

Back to the brilliant NBA guy.  Children, and apparently sports figures as well as  rappers, seem to equate success and wealth with stuff. Tangible evidence that you have more, or, at the very least as much as, the Other Guy. I am not sure who the Other Guy is, but we want more than he's got.  Because only then have we really and truly seen and tasted happiness. Uh, I don't think so. 

I am desperately trying to teach my boys that, although stuff can be exciting, it cannot define your success.  NBA guy was a standout player at one point, and now is only a name on a bankruptcy docket.  His achievement on the court is marred by his quest for cars and bling.  

 In my own kids' worlds, my goal is to reinforce that happiness isn't in that next cool phone or the American Girl doll.   Why?  Because there's ALWAYS going to be more stuff.   I shamefully cannot believe the amount of crap that flows through our house around Christmas and kids' birthdays, which unfortunately for me, all occur within a six week time frame.  

So what to do?  Pretend you actually DO live in a smaller house.  NO MORE BINS at Target! Don't buy containers for doll clothes and puzzle pieces. Stop acquiring more items.  Follow the "clean up before your birthday" plan.  No gifts till you give away some you don't use.  

And remember, rush out to the curb on trash day BEFORE the little hoarders wake up!

Treat Bag Mom -- I Am Talking to You

Today is the last day we honor the 40 Bags in 40 Days concept for 2015, as the morn will bring the Easter Bunny and his baskets full of more crap you'll have to furtively toss in a few days while your kids are eating their bunny's ears off.   And in a nod to the Easter or "spring" parties your preschoolers or elementary kids have had this week, we will throw an angry stare at HER.  The Treat Bag Mom.  

You know her.  You may BE her.  Hell, I used to be her.  She is up at 1:00 am poring over Pinterest, searching for that perfect little seasonal game that will hold the class' attention for more than one nanosecond.  I mean, who wants to do a relay race with an egg on a spoon, when your kindergartner can make a terrarium for their fake chick using naturally-dyed faux grass and earth friendly non-PVC mason jars?  Gah?

She may have a 9 am budget meeting, but by God, if you think she is going to let that stay-at-home wretch who did the Valentine's party out-do her?  You would be sadly mistaken, Other Kinder Parents.  Stand. And. Watch.   She has made healthy snack bags, carefully labeled with bunny die cuts bearing each child's name (which can later be used as a back pack ID tag), as well as a take home treat bag for later in case the little egg hunters combust on the SUV-ride home.

 

Curse you Treat Bag Mom.  I propose we load them all up in their minivans and place them in the town square to be tarred and feathered.  Why do I have such vitriol?  Because it's a friggin pricey mess, that's why.  And who decided each child should leave any festivities holding crap that will lie dormant in their well-appointed Pottery Barn rooms for weeks, months?   It's a western hemisphere custom that should be terminated.  

It's not for the kids. Let's all just agree on that.  When we distill it down to the bare bones, it's Parenting Olympics.  Oneupmanship at its worst state.  "I ordered my stuff from Oriental Trading last month and have the "make your own snow" take home bags for Ava's Frozen party finished and on my tablescape since Tuesday".  Well, good for you.  The rest of us forgot it was picture day and sent our kid to school wearing his Batman pajama top.

Who is going to take the wheel and stop this crazy train?  Just blame it on me.  The Cowtown Minimalist.  At your kid's next party, when the little party-goers file out and look a tad stunned because they are given a fistbump on departure instead of a themed bag holding an iPad, just smile and say "Yay Minimalism!"  They will get used to the idea, I promise.  Someone just has to start the new trend.   It can be you.  

It's just excess.  Pencils and bubbles and little plastic necklaces.  Do you think when the missionaries land in Ghana the children all scamper over and wait for their Disney movie treat bags bearing an eraser and tiny deck of cards?   Uh no.   They are happy with a kickball.  That thirty kids share.  I am not proposing that EXTREME  minimalism, just making the point that WE caused our kids to expect the level of excess they are swimming in.  Which means we have the power to take it down a few notches.

Be that Mom (or Dad).  I am here to support you.  At 1:00 am when you're desperately searching Pinterest.    The Cowtown Minimalist believes in you!

Kick Your Bucket List

In the true spirit of minimalism, today we are going to talk about paring down your bucket list.  Many of us have one, a list of maybe/maybe not attainable goals or places we have heard or read that we MUST see.  Perhaps you already have a few checked off.  I think to myself, DANG! Another list I have to keep track of?  Do I find that some anguish swirls around in me if I don't check things off from time to time?  

Let's kick that bucket.

Goals are good.  They keep us from stagnancy.  Promote forward thinking.  But does a bucket list, which may likely never see completion, prevent us from seeing today as an accomplishment?  I think perhaps it may.  

Earlier this week, I was weeding in my yard, mostly to prevent people from calling to see if our house had been foreclosed on (it hasn't).  I cleared a decent section of the flower bed, sat on the front porch with a nice pilsner glass of local brew, and admired my small accomplishment.  My house faces northwest, so I enjoyed the evening performance of the sun setting on a broad Texas sky in the spring.   Mentally, I proposed THIS should be on my bucket list of sorts, because I am fully appreciating right now.   

Sure, planning to see Paris in the spring is nice, too, but if I am ruminating over a written list of stuff I haven't done yet, will I be enjoying now and what I have done?  And experienced?  I stuck my face in my lavender plants that are pondering their spring rejuvenation and inhaled their aromatic gifts to me.  I planted them after my mother died to remind me of her, as she DID experience Paris in the spring and adored it.  I thought, check!  Today was a day well-lived.  

How about we weed our bucket list, and enjoy what today has brought us?  You breathed air today, and probably made a difference to the planet in some way.  Those seem like great things to check off as done. 

And go plant some lavender.  

What Will the Neighbors Think?

I have spent many blog moments talking about pitching your crap and living with a bit less.  But if you are down to three mixing bowls instead of nine, won't your cupboards look bare?  Perhaps.  Have you thought about fewer cupboards?

I'm in Texas.  Where we do everything big.  Big ole Chevy Suburbans, big hair, and especially a whopper red brick house with rooms whose functions that are still unclear like butler's pantry (who has a butler?) and children's suite (children need a suite?).  It's a sign of your success, of course, that you can bunk three families in your home, even though only one lives there. 

I have read in many places that the average home size has almost doubled since the 1950's, although the average family size has not.   Here in Texas, the cost of living is far more affordable than the west or east coast.  Houses are large and abundant.  Does that mean you need to buy as much as the bank says you qualify for?  

I say you don't.

More house will impress your neighbors, right?  It will look good at Christmas when you pay someone to illuminate it to be even more impressive.  It will invoke envy on Facebook when you post pics of your new living room furniture (but you don't use that furniture because it's too fancy).  People are silly. 

Next to your pretty pics, post a shot of your tax assessment.  Gah!  Who knew you were paying the county $18,000 for the privilege of using its dirt and schools? Tag me in your post of your awesome water bill in the summer for keeping your lawn golf course perfect.  Man, I am jealous!  

I am sinfully throwing stones, I admit, because my house is probably 1,000 square feet more that my family requires.  The cows do provide a tax break, however.  I don't water jack squat because the weeds blow on to my lawn from the pasture, and I refuse to give them more sustenance.  

But when the nest lies empty, I will likely find a way to downsize.  I want to see way more of the planet than just my backyard and its needy grass.  If you're not supporting a house the size of a hotel in Bali, then you have more opportunity to do just that.  I am thinking a sweet Airstream or vintage Shasta, but that's another post.  

When you're pondering embracing minimalism, or just want to spend less of your income on a house burden, consider paying for less square feet.  Since you already decrapified,  a smaller house will seem huge.  

Shrink on, Minimalists, and enjoy your shrunken tax and water bills!  

Storage Room of Shame: Your Garage

I think I have found a focus point that may help you bag up at least 10 days' worth of your "40 bags in 40 days" goal: the garage.  I bet you would think I will prattle on about my tiny garage and its minimal contents and that I fit my one car neatly in its garage bay.  But I can't.

Because five.

That's how many cars we have.  It's probably the least minimalist part of my existence.  And I face it with some shame, yes, but let's move on.  I have a teen driver, you know, and it's Texas, so we need a truck too... my excuse river runs deep.  

Back to your garage.  I drive through the neighborhoods near me and EVERYONE is parked in the driveways and on the streets.  What, I ask, is the function of the two or three car garages attached to your home?  Very pricey storage, my minimalist friends, and in addition, you're paying property tax for your storage room.  There's an epiphany, yes?

In my defense, I do park three of the cars I own in my three car garage.  At the very least, I am using my garage for its intended purpose.  Which brings me to today.  What can YOU do to get your garage used for its purpose:  car, lawn mower, and tool storage?  

Firstly, you must empty it out.  Completely.  Yes, I am aware this attracts neighbors and passers-by to your house like free tickets to a Wayne Newton concert, and you will have to say repeatedly NO, I am not having a garage sale today.  But it must be emptied.  This is likely a spring weekend event, because if it starts snowing halfway in, you'll be tossing back your rusty allen wrenches into to the corner and cursing my name.  

Before you begin putting back all you have removed, ask yourself the age-old question: what the hell is this?  If you can't identify the tool , the parts left over from your Ikea dresser from '07, or the box of Christmas yard art that was wrecked in the last snowstorm, then it goes.  Trash.  Next, I would like you to please park your cars in your garage.  Regard the space around said cars.  THIS is your left over storage space.  You have likely invested a large amount into your vehicles.  You are likely still paying on these investments.  So, give them a nice home out of the elements.  The rest of your stuff may be a bit pissy it doesn't get that kind of treatment, but it should be happy it's not trash!

I realize this is just a start, but I know you can harvest several bags from your garage to meet that 40 bags quota (see first Cowtown Minimalist blog post for those details).  Good luck, Minimalists!  Your cars and I commend your efforts.  

It's Time to Talk About Travel-Size

It's Spring Break, Minimalist friends!  Many of us are loading up our cars and boarding planes for beaches and mountains, trying desperately to economically pack only what we need for that week away from our burgeoning 2500+ square foot storage facilities in which we reside.  Which brings us to today's focus:  the travel-sized toiletry.  

You know you hoard them.  Who can resist taking home those hand lotions from the insanely priced Mickey hotel with the little ears on the bottle?  And what about the free shampoo the Ritz provides that has their beeyootiful lion logo reminding you of luxury and pampering? The nice lady at the department store kindly filled your bag with free samples of perfume and eye shadow when you bought that one lipstick; you can't just THROW THAT AWAY, can you?  Of course you can.  

Because I did.  Truthfully, I donated them to the women's shelter in our town who provides toiletries to women who escape with nearly nothing from abusive homes.  Which I recommend you do instead of filling up a landfill.  But in the name of all that's holy and clutter-free, get rid of them.  And yes, it counts as one of your 40 bags in 40 days.  

I keep both my travel toiletry kit and my passport at the ready.  It's not that I travel all that frequently, but if someone wants to take me to Paris at a moment's notice, I know where my conditioner is that meets TSA standards.  But I don't need 30 conditioners in a three ounce size.  Neither do you, my free sample loving friend.  So, do the area under your sink a favor. Decrapify, recycle, and have an excellent and minimalist spring break!

  

Vacation Minimalist Style

Your life is busy, right?  Work demands your time, as do errands, kid responsibilities, and Aunt Edith would really like to see you this Sunday after church. When you DO take a vacation, it's not unlike invading Normandy Beach, with your time with Mickey and Minnie scheduled to the moment, to maximize fast passes and the wait in line to see that princess who freezes stuff when she looks at it.  Happiest place on earth, my a*$.  

Many feel the time leading up to a vacation nearly nullifies the fun you'll have once you get to your destination.  Tidy up details at work, the dreaded "out of office" email set up, farming out the dogs, and organizing the kids and their clothes and their crap.  Why do we even try?  Because we have to.  Americans take fewer vacation days that most of the rest of the planet.  August in Europe finds nearly everyone "on holiday" except for the folks who run the inns and bake bread.  They are undoubtedly on to something over there.  

Here at Cowtown Minimalist, I challenge you to make things simpler, at least for now, and take a mental break/vacation every day. It's way easier than pre- and post-vacation laundry, and you don't have to have your mail held.   Start today.  "But I don't even HAVE an extra hour?!", you say?  Cut the crap.  Yes, you do.  You waste more than an hour on Pinterest or reading blogs.  

Henry Ward Beecher, a 19th century clergyman, said "the first hour of the morning is the rudder of the day".  Indeed.  Use that hour, or at least part of it, to steer your day with a mental vacation.  Get your coffee or morning beverage of choice, and journal (used as a verb).  My dad kept a short and sweet jotting of his daily happenings in a journal from 1965 until a few weeks before his death.  What a find.  Not a writer?  Put on some planetarium-ish music, sit in the quiet, turn OFF any phone notifications, and think about nothing.  Push grocery list and work to-dos from your brain.  Do this.  The life you save may be your own.

Minimalism embraces the ability to appreciate the present and clear both physical and mental clutter.  Decrapifying includes you brain, too.  We want you to feel ready to face your busy life, yet appreciate and not curse it.  Now, get moving!  You have a conference call in an hour, and you forgot to sign your kid's permission slip and bake brownies for the bake sale.

Let's Talk About Your Textiles

Today, in assisting you with your 40 Bags in 40 Days project, we will focus on your dirty little secret: the Linen Closet.  I understand you may not have an actual closet; it may be a few shelves in your bathroom,  your clothes closet, or under your sink.  I would wager that wherever it is, it's replete with extra linen-y type stuff.  

How many towels you use on a daily basis is up to you.  You may have toddlers who bathe daily and make messes that you need a time machine to keep up with.  Or perhaps the teenage girls in your home who need a towel for hair, a towel for body, and a towel for feet make the laundry a prison-job type chore.  Regardless of populace, you likely have more towels in that closet than your family uses.  Go through and dispose of all but one or two extra.  Most households keep what we refer to here at the ranch as "dog towels".  They are for pups' muddy feet as well as unplanned spills of epic proportions like washing machine regurgitation.  If they become irrevocably stained, they go in the trash.  Have a Bed Bath and Beyond coupon? Use it.  Replace towels as needed.  Unnecessary to keep enough for the Grand Budapest Hotel.

This applies to bed sheets as well.  If you have a potty-trainer bunking at your home, an extra change or two of that toddler bed is necessary for sanity.  The rest of us need perhaps one set of sheets to live folded in the closet, if that.  Take them off your bed on Saturday morning, wash, and return to the bed. Who wants to fold a fitted sheet, anyway? Who even knows HOW?  This whole towel/sheet rotation concept to ensure even wear and tear is cluttery, wasteful and mentally strenuous.  Use and enjoy what you own. How can you love 600 thread count sheets if they're in the closet? 

Keep your linens neat and uncluttered.  More joy will come to you when you open your closet and gaze into your crisp and orderly folded towels and sheets.

Happy DeTextile-ing, friends!

Master bathroom linen closet

The Dreaded Junk Drawer

We're in the middle of our biennial ice storm here in North Texas, which leaves those of us with  2-wheel drive vehicles stuck at home for a day or two with Netflix and baking supplies beckoning.   Let's use this unexpected at-home time for our 40 Bags in 40 Days burst!  You may have to skip one or two of these days anyway, because you forget or you're on a cruise to Bermuda for spring break and you have no bags in your cruise cabin.  We understand.  So now is the time!

Today, let's start with something simple and not too painful:  your junk drawer.  You know you have one.  Or three.  It's ok.  We all need a place to store our household scissors.  Just not thirty binder clips and rusty keys that haven't fit anything since you lost your third grade diary. 

Empty out the drawer.  The WHOLE drawer.  Remove any organizers/dividers.  Be honest with yourself here.  If you cannot IDENTIFY what is in your hand, toss it. You don't need it, and it is officially clutter.  Old keys, pens that don't work, cables and cords to Lord-knows-what, coupons that are expired from restaurants that closed two years ago.  And presto!  You have already filled your bag for today! 

Remember, only a few pens, one functional sharpie, and some paper clips are needed.  You'll be more joyful when you open your tidy drawer and always remove a pen that works, and you don't have to play scribble-me-working to find one to sign your kid's permission slip.  

Best of luck with today's decrapifying!  And stay warm, Minimalists!

Minimalist Ranch

Here's a view of my minimalist abode. We built it in 2007 with the idea of freedom to roam, but not filling the open spaces with gobs of accumulated stuff.

Welcome to the Cowtown Minimalist!

Greetings from the Cowtown Minimalist!  Here at CM, we hope to promote and encourage the concept of minimalism and paring down to life's finest assets.   For you, this may be travel, financial freedom, or perhaps downsizing to a more manageable abode.  In any case, we discuss how to reduce and minimize the pulls on your freedom and peace.  No granola crunching here, just good tips and anecdotes on how I have tried to embrace the concept and how you can, too!

In a nod to the Lenten season of 40 days of giving up something, we at CM subscribe to the "40 Bags in 40 Days" habit.  The lovely folks at whitehouseblackshutters.com were my inspiration for this.   40 bags in 40 days can be an actual bag, which you fill with your unneeded belongings that you will donate or sell, or it can just be a drawer, that you empty and organize.  Remember, the idea is to minimize, not just organize.  This does NOT mean head to Target and spend MORE money on drawers organizers and matching storage boxes.  It means throw out the iffy socks that you stuff in the back, the 30 pencils that say "Happy 100th day of School", and the myriad food storage containers with MIA lids.  Get the idea?

Good luck on your one bag today, and please subscribe for future updates!