New Year, New Start!

This upcoming year starts on a Monday!  How much of a clean slate is that?  Most of us won't be working that day, unless you're retail, hospitality, first responder, or hospital based...  Ok, many of us will be working.

Thank you to all of you who forego the NYE debauchery to be at work and take care of the rest of us.

Whether you're working or dancing in the streets, the new year offers a new start and a clean slate on which to write your minimalist manifesto.  It may be short, like I am going to go through my closet and send a bag off for donation.  It may be quite long, having collected a list of recommendations from various websites, blogs, and texts.

Wherever YOU want it to begin, it should begin there.  Minimalism is far from one size fits all.  I think it's great that a new year begins after Christmas, since most of us have a haul of extra stuff in our homes and likely decorations to organize and store for another year.  But not everyone wants to spend the week between Christmas and New Year's purging and/or relocating to a tiny house (although I have two friends doing EXACTLY that over the holidays).

We spend a lot of tsk-tsk time snarking at our fellow man and their New Year's resolutions.  The gym is packed, we're all trying to eat right after a month of gluttony, and everyone vows to call their mom more often.  So we don't all keep those new resolves.  So we decide that gym is smelly and boring by Martin Luther King Day.  So what?  At least we started somewhere.  Don't beat yourself up (or anyone else, for that matter) if your resolutions need tweaking in February.

Maybe if we can be a little vague, we can make some goals and keep them.  Most years (not every year because then if I missed one, I'd feel all crappy and let down), I make a list of goals for the new year. Not resolutions really, because resolutions focus on shit I am NOT doing right, and that's a super downer.  In July, I try to do a re-eval and see if I am meeting any goals or if I need to modify.  Then in December, I try to find the notebook I wrote them down in, look for a new page, and start again.  Self-improvement should not be so negative.  Can you imagine of your employer spent your annual review discussing all the things you should improve on in the coming year and didn't talk about goals met and successes?

Here are some minimalist pro-tips for a Monday in January that happens to be the first day of the year:

• Eat more simply.  You probably ate and drank a bunch of crap in November and December and that's in the past now.  Be conscious of the fuel you put in your tank, and be kind to your body so it will hang around until you're ninety. 
• This also means exercise.  Don't set some unattainable goal of four times a week at the gym, and then feel like crap because you only went twice.  Go walk in your neighborhood wearing the new scarf Grandma made you.  Practice some mindfulness while you burn a calorie or two.  Try a yoga class.  
• Decide on a personal growth goal.  This maybe ending a shitty relationship.  It may be graduate school. It may be horseback riding (me the overachiever is trying all three of these things this year and if I only accomplish one, still yay me!).
• Minimize somewhere.  Anywhere.  Use The Minimalists' 20/20 rule to rid your home of excess stuff that you might need "just-in-case".  If it can be replaced for < 20 dollars within 20 minutes of your home, it can go.  I'm not trying to encourage you to spend carelessly here, just saying you probably won't need that item and can replace if necessary.  

And that's plenty of tips for next Monday!  Enjoy the New Year and its blessings, friends.  Celebrate with people you like, and toast to your 2017 successes, because they are there.  Find them and relish them.  Happy New Year!

Yes, Virginia, Minimalists Still Celebrate Christmas

I am often asked out here in minimalist land if we still pull out all the stops and celebrate Christmas?  Do we have lots of decor and gift buying?  The answer to those queries is: well, sorta.

Many who know me or who kindly read my blog know my question/answer determiner is "does it add value to my life?"  I can tell you 200 Santa figurines, regardless of how valuable or who might have given them to me, do not add value to my holiday life.  It's just a mound of clutter to be displayed after Thanksgiving and boxed up at the new year.  

I have collected Hallmark ornaments for >20 years.  In recent years, Hallmark has produced way more each season than they did when I started.  Now, I buy only one a year, the NFL football guy.  I was a bit tardy in picking up Cam Newton, the 2017 pick, at the Hallmark store this year.  Multiple reprimands came from my children when they couldn't find this year's guy in the tree.  

Each one of the football great ornaments adds value to our lives.  My husband and boys comment on their post NFL successes, that Michael Vick still doesn't get to hang on our tree, and how Hallmark only picked Michael Oher because of the movie "The Blind Side", one of their mother's favorites.   

Last year I took the plunge and THREW AWAY each ornament's respective box.  "They won't hold their value!" they said.  "How will you know what you have?" they cried.  When I say "they", I mean my friends and readers who were aghast I would defile a collection by tossing the boxes in which they came.  THIS year, we put the ornaments on the tree in half the time, which indeed added value to my life.  My sports loving guys know who each player is, so no need to keep identifying boxes.  

I was made aware last year that some friends actually have fewer Christmas decoration boxes than I, so I made it a mini-mission to decreased the swell by one each year for the next few years. It's never a competition, but I realized I must walk the walk better if I continue to espouse minimalism. 

With regard to gifts, sure, we exchange.  I received a gift from a dear friend this year right before we broke for the holidays.  It was a book she had read and knew I would love, so she got me a copy.  Often, when people receive a gift and are unprepared with a reciprocating gift, the first thing they exclaim is "but I don't have anything for you!!"  I wonder how that makes the gift-giver feel?  Hey, I found this perfect thing for you but now you have made it uncomfortable by making the situation about equal exchange and not this perfect thing?!

I opened the book, had heard of it and knew I would love it as well, tried to accept graciously and commended my friend for her excellent choice!  It was a wonderful way to receive because the gift was selected without obligation.  It's my favorite way to be gifted.  

My kids are big now, and both said to me they didn't really need anything for Christmas, but they are human and consumers, so came up with a few desires.   I still enjoy watching them open gifts and know that they are happy with their hobbies or their wardrobes.  But clamoring on Black Friday for the toy of the year?  Glad that is done and over.  

The last two years we took a family trip leaving Christmas Day.  The kids don't care about a big meal, and Hubby would rather board a plane than worry about mashed potatoes.  Travel is easy on Christmas Day and we are still full of Christmas spirit, thanking all the folks at the airport for working so we can travel!  

Here are my minimalist pro-tips for a happy and meaningful holiday:

• Don't stress over traditions.  Yes, I know you ALWAYS go ice skating at that same place, but this year, Junior has the flu and nobody wants to leave the house when the weather's bad. So skip it.  Christmas will still come.  
• Big meals are overrated.  Order some Chinese take out, or have everyone bring appetizer and call it a night.  It's about the people, not perfection.
• We're adults.  Don't force us into spending into debt to buy gifts for a zillion people on the list.  Nieces and nephews don't need more volume just because they are under 13.   Maybe offer up some cash to contribute to a pricier big gift your brother couldn't afford for his kid this year.  Or don't.  Because Christmas will still come! 
• Ignore everyone's resplendent tree pics on Insta that are overflowing with packages.  They aren't better parents than you.  You're good who and what you are.  Ask your kids what they got for Christmas last year.  Can they recall more than one thing?  Nope.  And they got a lot.  

Enjoy the holiday for what it is and what is has meant to you in your life.  Make a few goals for the new year, but reflect in what you did this year that was great. Don't rush to the store on December 26 to buy more stuff you thought you wanted, or storage boxes for the ever present excess in your home.   Just enjoy the lights and the season.  It's free and needs no storage. 

Merry Christmas, Minimalist friends!
 

Living with a Little Less than I Planned

Happy holiday season, Minimalist friends!  I hope you were thankful during your November gatherings and are continuing to revel in the giving season.  We experienced an irritating black mark on our otherwise merry December this week...

On the weekend, we stopped to visit the MIL at her assisted living home before an evening out.  I placed (stupidly, I realize) my purse under the seat of Hubby's truck, and we visited for an hour.  Upon returning to the car, we found the driver's side window smashed and my purse gone.  Of course, with credit cards, ID, and the cash that was atypically in my wallet!  For some reason, the smash-and-grabbers missed Hubby's phone and wallet in the console, but did abscond with my stuff.  My phone was fortunately with me.

We were angry and violated, and trudged home in defeat to cancel credit cards and clean out glass.  The thieves had only had a chance to hit Redbox to steal some movies, so at least they didn't get a holiday spree on Chase bank and me.  I made a list of companies to call and auto-pays to change, all the while bitter someone had done something so mean, obviously NOT what they were taught in Sunday school.

The stolen purse was one that Hubby had bought me in Vegas with winnings from a guys' trip.  Not irreplaceable, but expensive and bought with love.

After I stewed overnight, I realized my thought process wasn't super minimalist.  Yes, inconvenience thrust upon me by a thief was a pisser.  Yes, I had to go get a new wallet since I don't keep lots of spares in the house.  But should I let this derail my holiday spirit?  Was I putting too much stock in the physical objects of a car window and a Burberry cross-body bag?  Perhaps.

Then, karma gave me a call.

A few months ago, my son and his friends found an ID somewhere at a bar in College Town USA.  I saw it on the table at their house and asked whose it was, and they said "oh we found it, I don't know her". I said you HAVE to return it; she is probably really upset to have lost it!

Driving home that same day from his house, I dropped MY driver's license at a gas station 70 miles from home. When I realized it the next day, I phoned the popular gas station/roadside stop and just inquired if MAYBE someone found it?  And you know what?  Someone had and turned it in.  They mailed it back to me, and I told my son to immediately mail back the ID they had found.

He didn't.  He brought it home to me, so I could mail it back and complete the circle.  I did.

Back to the Christmas theft here.  Two days after we cancelled cards and mourned some cash, I got a call on the home voice mail (still have a land line!).  It was an employee at a vet clinic 8 miles from the theft location who had found my driver's license in a parking lot and looked up my number to call.  If I wanted it back, it was at their front desk!

What??  I had been at work, so hadn't had the pleasure of a DMV visit yet, and that was on my to-do list for the very next day!  I was also happy no one was using my ID at various stores opening credit accounts.  I also received a Facebook message from the employee saying "You don't know me, but I found your ID and you can come get it!"

So I did.  I packed up a little Christmas basket for this young single dad who had taken moments out of his life to give me a hand.  I dropped it off at the vet clinic, happily picked up my license, and wished the whole office a great day.  

People are good.  Stuff doesn't matter (although identification sorta matters).  Merry Christmas.

Thankful Even Without Daddy

I lost my Dad three years ago today.  We only knew for about 2 months that he had cancer, although I suspect he knew longer.  He was always protecting his girls, if he could.  It was a few days before Thanksgiving, but of course that was American Thanksgiving anyway which Daddy only celebrated under duress.  Thanksgiving, of course, is the second Monday in October!  

Was I still thankful?  After I lost my second and last parent, leaving my sister and me to wipe up our own tears and hold ourselves together?  Yes, always thankful.   He gave me more than I ever realized growing up.   He gave me appreciation of British automakers, despite their being a fussy bunch.  "That's not a car; that's an Aston Martin!"  

Thankful for the gift of confidence.  Daddy would offhandedly say, "well yeah, we'll give that a try" at any challenge presented.  Building a hydroplane, making a flight that was departing in 5 minutes and we were 10 minutes from the gate, cancer.    He just wasn't afraid of much.  And never asked for help.  Like ever.  I KNOW he gave me that trait. 

Thankful for the gift of inquiry.  If you don't know something, keep your mouth shut.  Then go look it up, and know it.  And still keep your mouth shut.  He believed in an old English theory that you're only given a certain amount of words to use per day.  I bet he always thought I'd used mine up by 10 am. 

Thankful for the gifts of cursing.  Daddy worked in a copper mine in the summers in college.  Learned a whole lotta blue language that his minister grandfather was unaware existed.  I learned quality cursing from Daddy when he was hammering things or working on his car.   It's important to be able to express oneself through language. 

Thankful for the gift of minimalism.  He didn't know it, but he taught me a lot about minimalism.  He was NOT a minimalist, as his extensive book collection can attest.  But after our family cabin burned in 2011 and we lost every brick and board of that building, Daddy silently affirmed that we don't need things or a structure for memories, we just need to be.  It's all still there.   The cabin rose again like a phoenix, and at that point I realized it's never about stuff.  It's about people and places.  And memories.  I decided I wouldn't assign value to material things again.  

I miss my parents like crazy.  But knowing they were honorable and loved each other till their deaths is comfort.   They gave me gifts of travel, college education, and love for cars and chocolate, and for those, I am eternally grateful.   If all their books (Daddy's),  sewing notions (Mom's), and anniversary china (bought by Daddy but for Mom), vanished tomorrow, it wouldn't change one thing in my heart.  Because thankful. 

The Journey of the Lotus

For those who don't know, I am the second owner of a 1970 Lotus Europa S2.  Here is her story.

My father had always been a motorhead.  He didn't have a car as a teen in rural British Columbia where he spent his childhood, but he built and raced hydroplanes on the nearby lake, surely giving his mother conniptions as he would roar by spewing water and exhaust.  By the time he went to university and met and married my mother, he began eyeing cars for his own.  Along came my sister, so the sporty plans went to the wayside, and in their place an affordable Volkswagen.  Fortunately safety concerns weren't really stringent in the 60's, so the fact she was rolling around on the back seat as an infant wasn't too concerning.

A degree each, a job, and another kid later (me!), my parents found themselves in the outskirts of London, with Daddy working in town and Momma minding the children.  Daddy had done some reading about Lotus' racy two seater, the Europa S2, and decided to check them out.  Off we journeyed to the factory about 30 miles east of London.  I am assuming he wrote them a check that very day, and they began production on HIS Lotus.

The lore I have been told over the years is that he got to visit the car as it was being assembled. Admiring the transmission, commenting on the Renault engine as it was installed, and choosing the paint color.  The color was listed as "Bahama Yellow", but it always looked orange.  Never yellow.  It is yellow in its current state, finally.

It was delivered to him in May 1970, as the little plaque mounted between the seats still declares.  He drove it all over England, and he and a buddy took it on a ferry across the channel to destroy the roads in France,  Germany, and of course, Monte Carlo.  A high point of racing for him was a day at Brands Hatch in Kent near where we lived.  Jackie Stewart was racing that day, too.  Daddy felt among the British racing elite.

My family explored much of the English countryside in that car,  with me sitting astride the transmission hump and my sister between my mom's knees.  Again, safety not a big list-topper in 1970-71.  I am told I would yell "Car running! Car running!" when Daddy would fire her up.   With its rear mid engine, it produced an enjoyable race car soundtrack that's still music to me. 

When the oil business summoned him back stateside, the Lotus was carefully shipped back with us.  It was a left hand drive, as Daddy predicted a return to North America within a few years.  We spent a few years in Calgary, and Daddy found some race tracks to test her mettle in Canada.  The Lotus was driven a fair bit back then, but after a subsequent relocation to Houston and its intolerable heat, Daddy found his Cadillac Coupe de Ville and its wicked air conditioning more palatable.  The Lotus was relegated to the garage bay, protected with a car cover.  Friends (especially the boys) would come and admire Daddy's cool car.  I remember him driving it some, but not much.

Fast forward to the early 2000's.  Daddy had found a Hungarian guy who liked to work on Italian sports cars, and agreed to get the Lotus running again.  It was in his shop for many months fixing this and that.  I remember Daddy would call me and report he took the Lotus out on the toll road to open her up.  And then he'd say "the damn thing overheated again. I MUST have Karnack look at the radiator". Karnack wasn't his real name.  I think that was Johnny Carson's mind-reading character, but Daddy couldn't pronounce his Hungarian name.

My mother was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2002, and the years preceding her death did not bring any joy in driving the now 30 + year old Lotus.  After her death in 2006, he did do some driving, but the Lotus had to live in an off site garage as their townhome only had room for two cars and did not permit street parking.   Daddy belonged to a Houston area Lotus owners group, and enjoyed taking the Lotus to a few events. He ALWAYS showed it off at the annual Daughters of the British Empire Car Show, as my mother was a card carrying DBE member, and Daddy organized the show even after her death.

When Daddy was diagnosed with cancer in 2014, he, even from his hospital bed, was organizing the trophy purchase for that car show. It was to him, after all, his responsibility.  Someone need to get that "Best in Show" award!   He died much too quickly, leaving us with heartbreak and memories, and of course, the Lotus.  Here is where my grown up life comes in.

I had to go and bring her home.  I went to the garage where the car was, dragging my husband and younger son along for moral and physical support.  I had literally only started that car probably once in my life, and now I was going to try to load it on a borrowed car trailer and take it 250 miles back to my house. Oh,  and I'd driven a car up on a trailer a total of zero times prior to that day.

The car hadn't been started in I have no idea how many months.  I brought jumper cables, hooked them up, and prayed (and I am not a praying type).  She started.  She freaking started! Hallelujah!  But then, reverse.  Where was reverse?  Why would it not go in reverse?  Put it in neutral and push (she only weighs about 1400 lbs).  Wouldn't hardly budge.  Warned my son about her fiberglass body and that she could break with too much pressure.

By this time, I am yelling at everyone, especially the car, begging Daddy from beyond to tell me HOW THE HELL DO I GET THIS THING OUT OF THE GARAGE.  Finally, after shoving and cursing, I got her to slide out of the storage unit.  As if guided by the spirit of my recently deceased Daddy, I drove her around the block of storage buildings and up on the car trailer.  First try.  Success.

I stared at her in the rear view all the way home that day, which was Valentine's Day 2015.   We got her off the trailer successfully and tucked in my garage, safe from the elements.  Of course, she would now only start off and on, and my level of car knowledge peaked at where to put gas and how to check oil and tire pressure (and now how to drive on a car trailer!).  I reached out to some folks at the North Texas Lotus Group, and several were kind enough to offer input, and one even came all the way to the house to work on her (Thanks, Bryan!).

Once in my care, I named her Moneypenny.  Daddy never named his cars.  He said he had enough trouble naming the daughters he sired; he sure wasn't naming something made of steel and rubber.  Psshhh.  I name my cars.  Moneypenny was James Bond's secretary, and since Daddy was a Bond fanatic and I would be spending money and pennies to get this car going, it was totally appropriate.   Moneypenny needed work. A friend recommended British Auto Specialists here in Fort Worth, and we patiently waited for them to have room in their schedule for my classic car that needed some serious ICU care.

Finally in May of 2017, we had the Lotus towed over to their shop.  The brakes were darn near clamped down, so it took me and the 250-lb burly tow truck driver to get her out of my garage. I waved good-bye as she trundled off down my driveway to the car hospital.  Many months and moneypennies later, we got the call she was roadworthy.  I had ordered all new tires to be shipped to the repair shop, and the guys got Moneypenny's new shoes on, so she was ready.

I drove over to get her and cried half the way there.  The Lotus restoration also restored a piece of my broken heart.  I would get to drive her again and channel Daddy each and every mile.  Funny, I never was permitted to drive the car when he was alive, but now it's my piece of him.  The upholstery even smells just like I remember from my childhood.

I hugged the British Auto guys, demanded they pose for photos, and carefully boarded her for the drive home. I have to drive without shoes, because the accelerator and the brake are insanely proximal to each other, plus my feet are big anyway.  I made it the 15 miles home with no untoward events and didn't even stall out, despite it being years since I drove a standard.  Only cried about 1/4 of the way home; I was too busy waving and feeling like a badass that I had mastered making a left turn and not killing the engine.

When I got home, I armor-all'd her interior and vacuumed the carpet. I reattached the "Built to Order for Gordon D. Feir, May 1970" plaque to its spot between the headrests.  I wiped out the boot, polished the chrome, and proudly told her: Welcome Home, Moneypenny.  I do solemnly swear to drive you regularly, treat you with respect and care, and love you forever.

I think Daddy would be pleased and proud that she is finally resting with me, and I am honored to be entrusted with her safety.
 

 Me, in 1971, already the driver's seat.

 Daddy looking professional (he was 29 here) and me hopping in again.

 Calgary Hill Climb

1971

Daddy at a car show in Houston.

November 2011

 Loaded on the trailer and ready to leave Houston for Saginaw! 

February 2015

Finally roadworthy and ready for her trip home.  

Lloyd and Jeff from British Auto Specialists are with me. 

November 2017

We Get it. You're Busy. Enough Already!

Welcome to November, Minimalist friends!  Is your calendar starting to fill up with school events, a party or two, and of course, family time for Thanksgiving and Christmas?  And yes, if you come from a numerous-parent household, doesn't the fun seems to exponentially grow as your patience decreases similarly?   You have our sympathies.

Busyness is a much discussed and maligned concept.  As minimalists, we want you to feel less busy so you can enjoy your time on the planet and decrease stress and freak-outs.  Yet, for some reason, it's still this honor badge people want to wear on their Mommy scouting uniform.  I recall a school volunteer parent meeting I attended in a room clogged with parents trying to hide under desks to avoid nomination to a committee.  One of the lead mom persons asked for volunteers for something, and added, "Look y'all, I am like THE busiest person in the universe, and I can make time for this".  Seriously.  She actually threw down that sword and asked a room full of parents to step over it.  I tried to organize a coup, but instead I hid under the desk with the others.

I am not having a Busy Olympics with you.  I'm just not doing it.

I have found most people who blather on about how busy they are do it for two reasons.  One, it's the honor badge.  You're super important and you have so much to do and everyone wants your time and what a star you are (sews badge on MomUniform)  The other is that you're a shirker, and you are looking for an excuse as to why you can't do something.  I always believe you have time for what you want to have time for.  If you want to work out, you'll find an hour to do it.  If you want to watch the entire second season of Stranger Things, well, you seem to eke out the time, don't you?

Busy Mom is a bullshit term anyway.  What person do you know who has grown an actual human, or been chosen to raise one, who is not busy?  You are completely responsible for the needs of shelter, food and companionship for a whole person?!?  That sounds like a busy day to me.  Whether you stay at home, work outside the home, or even as an heiress, because you have to hire and fire staff all the time.  It's work, people.

So take how busy you are and stick it -- deep in your calendar.  Make some time for what's important.  For you, it may be exercise; it may be a friendship or spouse you have ignored.  Carving out time shows you actually care about what you're making time for.  And whatever you do, do NOT tell us you're so SO busy.  Because we will organize a Mom coup and take you down. 

'Tis the Season for Consumerism!

Happy Fall, Minimalists!  After we toss our melting carved pumpkins in the neighbor's yard, we are awakened by the toll of Christmas bells and TV ads with snowy scenes beckoning holiday shoppers.  Seriously, people, it's November.  Let me appreciate wearing a sweater with my flip flops before I deal with Christmas cheer, okay?

I think the pressure ramps up every year to buy early and often.  Remember our parents talking about Christmas club at the bank?  You would actually SAVE money all year in a special account which then in DECEMBER you would use to provide Christmas for the family.  Like 11 months of savings and one month of enjoying the fruits of your year of sacrifice. Not 11 months of paying off the credit debt you acquired in November and December, only to repeat the joyous cycle again the following year.  

Why don't we do that now?  Who decided to start Christmas November 1st?  And pay for it until next year (and beyond)?

Many minimalists opine about spending your money and time on experiences, not things (click here for Joshua Becker's great post).  I completely agree, although I like a great pair of boots or my new iPhone as much as the next guy.  I have noticed as my kids get older, they just appreciate fewer things, and the things have more intrinsic value.  For example, my younger son plays guitar, like, all the time.  He is pretty good at it, and it is a consuming hobby for him.  As with many hobbies, it becomes a place to sink some cash for accessories, lessons, and opportunities.  It is also a hobby with a lifetime of joy associated with it.  I can't say that for the latest edition of Call of Duty for the Xbox.  Sure I spend some of my disposable income supporting it, but it seems actually less disposed of.  

Consider this as the ads beckon and the siren song of Black Friday calls to you:  buy what you can afford to buy today, not repay a year from now. Avoid the temptation of a great deal or the thrill of the chase.  It's SHOPPING for heaven's sakes, not the Indy 500.  There is nothing to win.  When you die, your family will not be as happy with your collection of Hallmark ornaments as you once were (guilty as charged).   

Enjoy November, Minimalist friends!  Fall is the time to be like a tree, and let the dead leaves drop.  

Real Estate Ready!

One of my dear friends is selling her country ranch to move to another country ranch.  When she told me about prepping the house for market, she commented "it looks so freaking good right now; I don't even want to leave it!"  

Right.  Because it was ship-shape.  De-cluttered.  Magazine ready.  Buyer-appealing.  

So, why do we get our houses attractive for a buyer ("They do not want to see your clutter!", admonishes Realtor Rob), so said buyer can move in and junk up the previously tidy place with all their stuff?  A mystery, indeed.  

The fact that you're nodding in affirmation right now tells me you've been there and thought the same.  It also validates my original concepts that most of us really don't like clutter and crap messing up our zen. 

Beloved Husband reminds me on the daily when I am tidying up the living room or recycling the endless periodicals that decorate our counter tops, "we LIVE here, y'know?!?".  As if to say, we don't have to be magazine ready here at the ranch.  Well, we are far from it.  I would argue that no one walks into a home and comments, oh wow, I love what you've done with all those magazines stacked next to the bed, and look at that pile of mail over by your couch!  A true art form!  And that wall crammed full of crosses from Hobby Lobby?  An original decorating concept for sure!

But when you're scoping out properties on Zillow, you know you gravitate toward the sparse kitchen counter tops and the neatly arranged (just a few, people!) throw pillows.  You can't see the closets (usually), so they may be floor to ceiling with all the stuff they threw in there just before the photographer showed up, but the rest looks inviting, right?

Even if you're not in the market to sell, look at your place with a buyer's eye.   You probably loved the place once, so love it again!  Make your living spaces look like you live there, but not as if Hoarders is on their way over to feature you.  Maybe get rid of the dust collectors on top of your cabinets, and leave that space open.  You rarely use your can opener, so find it a spot near the pots and pans. Make the master bedroom an "owner's retreat" to borrow from the lexicon of the real estate world, not a depository for clothes and kids' crap. 

We spend 40% of our income (or more?) and lots of our time in our homes.  Remember why you bought/leased the place initially?  Bring yourself back there, and don't just get it ready for the next buyer.  They are just going to crapify it with all their stuff anyway.  

Happy Weekend, Minimalist friends!

Only Richie Rich Can Be a Minimalist?

I read a rather chastise-y article recently about how only the rich can reeeeally afford to be truly minimal.  Just the few at the top of the income pyramid can purge the noise and need only a few belongings, free to jettison all the rest less useful things and live with white walls and just two sweaters. 

Ouch.  I hadn't looked at it that way at all. 

Yes, I appreciate that if you cannot afford furniture, and you are living with one of those giant electrical wire spools as your dining table, that "living with less" is a big freaking millennial joke to you.  What choice do you have?  Every day is less!

But I would argue that many who have quality "24 months No Interest!" furniture and a hefty mortgage are in no better financial shape than the spool guy. Not because they HAVE more and are wealthier, but because they likely owe more.  More debt and more burden. 

Embracing minimalism is not about being fortunate enough to throw all your stuff away.  It's about freedom, really.  Comedian Whitney Cummings wrote about how she felt differently about money once she started calling it "freedom" instead (click here for her Money magazine article).  For example, when making a purchase, saying those jeans aren't worth 200 of my freedom units.  If you have less crap to clean, maintain, or organize (Container Store is making a lot of cash selling boxes!), you have more time to a) work your side hustle and get out of debt, b) enjoy your family/friends, or c) do something you WANT to do, not be a slave to "spring cleaning" yet again.  Freedom. 

Being debt free is almost the biggest freedom you will welcome in life (aside from being told you are cancer free, I would imagine - that's got to be #1).  You can decide if you want to bring a purchase into your home (or not), solely based on whether you need/want it and are willing to separate yourself from your funds to do so.  NOT based on whether the "no interest" deal is good or if your have room on your Visa card's credit limit. 

I have written often about how many Americans live paycheck to paycheck, and its freedom-limiting ramifications of doing so.  I think rich is not about how much your home is worth or how much your salary is.  I think it is measured in freedom, so if you make $30,000 or $300,000 a year and you are in debt, neither is rich.   There is a guy who lives in a $750/month apartment with a roommate, takes public transportation, buys a $4.00 Starbucks every single day, but he owes no money on student loans or credit cards.  His net worth is probably more than the guy who owes $750,000 on a house worth $800,000, and has two car loans and $10,000 on a credit card.  The minimalist guy?  Far richer than the guy with stuff (maybe he has white walls, but NOT minimalist).

I understand that not having a paycheck to support buying furniture and a late model car and plentiful belongings by definition makes one a minimalist.  I would never seek to insult those living with less because of circumstance, not choice.  I do, however, challenge the rest of us to look at living with less and exchange some debt stress for freedom.  Living intentionally (a buzzword I am still trying to define for myself) seems to permit choice in our lifestyle rather than obligation. 

Is Queue Time Phone Time?

Recently, I was in a not-that-lengthy queue at a taco joint (worth waiting for, I might add) where I noticed EACH and every person who was waiting to order was looking at his or her phone.  There were 5 or 6 ahead of me and a few behind, and they were all shuffling forward with their heads down.  Checking email, social media, or to see which Kardashian is pregnant today.   Not one was looking at the menu above, or standing patiently, waiting to remind the staff no sour cream, please.  

Agreed, it is boring to wait in line.  But when you've waited for Buzz Lightyear at Disney for two hours with two children under 7, you're pretty sure you can queue up for a taco for 3-4 minutes.  Even 10 if you knew how awesome this place is.  

I am in the generation (X -- the cool one) who remembers a time before the internet and social media drove our brains and self-worth to distraction.  But I am also young enough to use many of the internet's gifts to my advantage and enjoy the memes my teenager finds the time to share with me.  

I can still wait in line.  

I am not so old that just the mere thought of queuing up (and making my knees support me for more time than a TV commercial interrupts Matlock) makes me surrender to the drive-thru.  

But I guess I am old enough that strolling into a restaurant, ladies restroom, or a grocery check out doesn't make me automatically reach for my phone when I see I will not be waited on immediately.  

I guess we can't have blank-brain for long at all anymore.   We can't look around at other patrons, wondering if that mom over there was from our kid's baseball team, or why on earth she would leave the house dressed like that.  We can't take the time to say, hmmm, looks like they switched to organic meats in the tacos now, and wonder if their prices reflect that.   

We have to have our brains fed with stimuli.  

I noticed in the waiting room of my clinic, almost no children are passing the time until their appointment with toys, action figures, or books.  Nearly all over the age of 18 months are being pacified with a tablet or their parent's phone.  And when the mom/dad take the electronics away to gather their things to head back into the exam room, often the child/ren scream and grab for the screen as if the last lifeboat left the Titanic.  

Boredom is boring.  But doesn't it makes our senses do some work?  Doesn't it ask our brain some questions?  I offer this:  next time you find yourself in a line, at the post office or taco place, ponder the smells, the decor, the folks around you.  Leave your phone in your pocket while waiting. Don't check your email when stopped at a red light (I know you NEVER do it while driving).  

Be comfortable with a bit of boredom again.   You may think of a great meme you can publish as soon as you're back to your phone! 

This Is Your Life

Tyler Durden from Fight Club reminds us in that salty Brad Pitt soliloquy, "this is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time".  A bit fatalist, perhaps, but factual.  How do you want to spend those days? 

One of the reasons minimalism is both functional and attractive is that it distills what's meaningful in your life.  We all find ways to earn money to buy shelter and food and with any luck, fast passes at Disney.   But our life's meaning can really get lost in the clutter.  

Consider this:  you have an income which mathematically supports your mortgage, car payments, credit card bills and entertainment budget.  You save for a vacation or a big ticket item, and float yourself a MasterCard loan for what you lack when it's time to buy.  According to CNBC, 78 percent of full time workers live paycheck to paycheck.  58 percent said they were in over their heads with debt.  Is servicing that debt every month, year after year, really how you want to spend your minutes of life as they tick away?

Your life isn't always full of value-added events.  People die, hurricanes destroy, and jobs evaporate.  These things are nightmares and drain energy from our beings.  When you eliminate the excess and the debt you have to service to maintain an appearance of success, life's ass whippings have considerably less power over you.  

Friends and family (and some non-participant observers) often will comment to me "Oh yeah, you're a minimalist so you want to throw everything away!"  No, not EVERYthing.  Just that which does not add value to my life.  The minutes I have left, be it 15 more after I hit "publish" or 525,600 x 30 years, aren't going to be wasted paying for some Halloween decor I bought at Target and put on the credit card.  To me, minimalism means I like and enjoy what surrounds me.  Something doesn't get to stay in my house or my life just because its tenure has guaranteed it a spot, like old books or the coat I bought on sale for 65% off.  

Live your life with that which adds value.  If it is your Precious Moments collection (I personally can't see how those creepy figurines add value to ANYone's existence, but I digress), or your grandfather's briefcase, then keep and enjoy. Don't store in a dusty attic in a box labeled "keepsakes".   All our lives may be ending minute by minute, but our story is being written.  Don't let your story be cluttered with stuff.  

Minimalist Struggle: College Boy Launches Again

Whether or not you have a school or college aged kid, it's back to school time.  The stores are full of pencil/paper clutter, and you're reminded of the citation potential in the school zones once again.  

If you DO have a college student, you probably feel less than minimal.  You are downright FORCED to buy more clutter.  I have blogged before about dorm room basics and living all cute and tiny in the 150 sf space shared by two hormonally fluent teenagers.  You are buying more bedding (weird sized dorm room beds?), towels, and desk accessories to furnish their home away from home.  The hardest part of all this, aside from the financial devastation, is they come home in May, and where in tarnation do you store all that stuff which by now has quadrupled in volume? 

This year, my son has a house. A decent sized two story place with a front porch, backyard, and an actual laundry room. A house replete with fraternity brothers.  Of course, it needed furnishing.  So again, back to Target and Beth Bath and Beyond Ridiculous to purchase pots, pans, and a set of measuring cups because I MIGHT want to make cookies when I visit, and heaven knows even after 49 years I can't guesstimate how much a half cup looks like.  

There's no garage, because, well, college.  So, I didn't buy any yard care items; I just hired a lawn service.  THIS is super minimalist.  The yard guys a) add value to my life, because the twice a month service cost far outweighs the nagging cost and price of a mower, and b) bring me joy because when I visit the beds are weeded and the grass is cut!  Did I mention I OWN this house he lives in?  I decreased the clutter of crap I would have to sell when he moved, and added value!  Bonus.  

He also WON'T BRING HIS CRAP HOME IN MAY.  Two years (at least) of living the dream in the college house!  The crap will undoubtedly morph into super-sized crap over the school year, but during the summer he can just zip home with his car full of underwear (dirty, likely) and see his momma.  

The toughest part of being Minimalist Mom is his room at home.  The conflict: the joy, the despair.   I peer in the doorway, and the bed is made, the dresser drawers are actually shut.  There are no receipts from Taco Bell drive thru littering the floor, no half full Gatorade bottles under the bed.  Yay tidy!  But, no yay.  No boy.  Boy Wonder is away at his own house, not concerned a bit about tripping on the laundry basket that will never see its bottom.  His absence at home is palpable, not just because the 12 pack of Dr Pepper doesn't vanish in a day.  

I have three years remaining until my chicks are all flown.  Three years to appreciate extra laundry, innumerable guitar picks on the counter, in the dryer, and in my car's cup holders.  1,095 days to enjoy packing a lunch (yes, I still do) and the clutter associated with family and family's friends.  I will enjoy it.  I will be mindful of our days together and that I will yearn for a bit of clutter when it's just me and the Hubs occupying the ranch.  

Enjoy Back to School, Minimalist friends!  But don't over-buy on pencils.  Those teachers always seem to send them back at school year's end!

Carry that Purse

It's that time again --  40 Bags in 40 Days time!  I hope things are going well for you as you declutter.  There are so many areas in your home that could use a bag to decrapify. Click  here for a printable to use throughout your 40 days.  Share your progress with us at #CowtownMinimalist on instagram!  

When the decrapifying days loom, I turn to face the music in my closet.  Clothes that don't fit, look worn, or were just a sale mistake starting me in the face each morning.   Those are easy targets to go in the "donate" bag.  

Also in my closet are a few purses.  Ok, more than a few. Several.  OK, ten.  Let's not judge, fellow minimalists.  For the record, I don't hoard purses.  I haunt the outlet malls for the designer bag shops and try to snag one at fire sale prices.  Then I keep it forever in fear it's the last designer bag I will ever own.  Until I drive by the next outlet mall.  

I have donated recently a few bags to some lovely young lady friends of my son, and that eases my guilt and pain when I know Kate and Coach are going to good homes.  So my invenTORY is slimmer (see what I did there?). 

But then I found her.  

A gorgeous tote that will hold my work stuff and personal stuff and two pairs of glasses and a phone charger.  At a real designer shop while we were on vacation.  She was a beauty.  With promises to cull the purse herd on arrival back at the ranch, I adopted the navy bag with the embroidered T logo, and home she came.  

I have carried her happily and she has done what she promised.  Looks great and roomy and doesn't slip off my shoulder (hate that).  It has a leather bottom, and I have been cautious not to set it down on anything icky, but I do toss it in the car and on my desk at home and in my office at work.  

I mentioned to the hubby (who was with me when I acquired the lovely bag) that I had better be careful as I might wear out the bottom of the bag from overuse.  Maybe I would even switch to a different one for a spell.  He said "what did you buy it for, then?  Carry the purse!"  

Hmmm.  What DID I buy it for?  To carry, to love, to USE. Not to take up a spot among other unused bags in my closet.   Makes complete sense, right?  

Yes. 

So carry her I did.  I even sorted through a few purses in my closet that made it into today's "40 Bags" bag.  Because you (usually) don't carry more than one purse at a time.  So carry that purse.  Burn the good candle, and wear the nice perfume.   Enjoy what you have today, and eliminate that which does not add value.  Don't be burdened with crappy purses (this is an analogy here -- I really hope purses don't weigh you down that much).  

Happy Decrapifying, friends! 


                                                   

Tidy that Financial Clutter!

It's nearing tax time, Minimalist friends.  I suspect your mailboxes, both real and virtual, have been flooded with 1099's, W-2's, and various other documents of mystery nomenclature.   This likely creates a file folder, also both real and virtual, full of important items you must address.  

What about that credit card statement that pings your inbox every month?  Do you read the nasty APR comments at the bottom?  Are you paying upward of 16% on each purchase to let VISA own what you bought?  Ick.  Retirement statements?  Are you contributing up to or beyond what your employer will match?  Are you contributing at all?  Let's discuss all this clutter.  

As Dave Ramsey says, if you run out of month before you run out of money, it's time to put in some work.  You may have purchased (on a credit card?!?) some cute file folders and a box at Container Store to keep your receipts tidy and maybe even a notebook to track your medical and tax deductible expenses.  A valiant start, but stop spending money if you don't actually have any.  

If you have debt, then you are broke.  Despite what the zero percent interest car deals will tell you, there is no good debt.  I repeat: THERE IS NO GOOD DEBT.  Of course, many of us, Cowtown Minimalist included, wagered that our education would pay off dividends and took out student loans to complete it.  But it's still a debt.  Shackles which bind us to Chase Bank or Joe's Lending or whomever.  

Some of you may identify with some lingering student loans, credit card debt, and maybe you took out a "home equity loan" with the starry-eyed goal of paying off aforementioned credit card debt and crawling out of your hole.  But guess what?  You charged more on the credit cards, and now your home isn't worth as much to you should you try to sell it.  

Stop the bleeding.  Clear the clutter.

I don't claim to be a finance genius or have made a million in the stock market, but I have reconciled my family's finances to a manageable level and am not servicing any credit card debt.  I run the household, pay the bills, and keep a kid in college.  It can be done.  Let's start here:

1.  Stop spending money you don't have.  This may hurt really badly, but as theminimalists.com will tell you, if you don't feel the pain, you won't feel a change.  No more credit card spending.  No more charging vacations or meals out or oil changes.  

2.  Sit down at your kitchen table and write down what you owe and what you own.  It seems logical, but no one wants to face the music.  It's shame-producing when you see big numbers.  But hey, clutter needs clearing so get a pencil.   Start with the smallest debt first.  It may be your Macy's card, but work on it.  Get rid of that clutter.  When you pay it off, close the account.  We don't recommend closing every account, but if you have a bunch of store cards because you got sucked in to the "15% off if you open an account right now" ploy, tell the Gap goodbye.  

3.  Stop spending money you don't have.  Did we mention that already?

4.  Practice saving.  Obviously, this hasn't been a big priority for many of us, but it's time to practice right now.  You're busy paying off your debt, so you aren't going to aim really high here, but you are going to auto-transfer $20 a paycheck in to a savings account.  Watch it grow every 2 weeks into something respectable.  Our goal is to have a rainy day fund of at least two months wages.  But get those insanely high interest cards paid off first.  

5.  While you are paying off debt slowly and deliberately, ponder ways to reduce expenses and generate some additional income.  Drive for Uber?  Your own hours and make some money! How about sell some of that crap in your house?  We have preached about minimizing, so what about now and make some dough while you're at it?  And finally, consider downsizing your living arrangements.  Is your house more than you can afford? Did you buy it when you had less debt or weren't divorced?  You have to crawl out of your comfort zone to be debt free.  Whining about being comfortable is what got you here to begin with.  Consider a move to reduce your monthly overhead.  Even $200 a month will help reduce that debt more quickly.  

That's a big enough bite to chew for now, Minimalist friends.  We know this financial clutter leaves your sleep disturbed and your nerves frayed.  Let's work on these items and we'll address some more clutter shortly. 

Don't just organize -- eliminate!