Clutter, clutter everywhere

Unless. . .

If you’re on Facebook, have I got a find for you.

You know how Martha Stewart has all these great organizing and decorating tips…for the folks who won that $500 million dollars and can afford to spend six or seven hours a day weaving their own placemats?

I don’t know about you, but I don’t have time for all that. And the materials!

Half the time you have to make your own radish roses to attach to yew branches harvested from your own hedges to make a tasteful holiday wreath which will, in turn, be gilded by a paint recipe based on egg yolks gathered from your hand-incubated Buff Orpington chickens nesting in your home-made chicken coop modeled on Westminster Abbey.

It’s not like these are things real people actually do.

But over in New Orleans, there’s a little company called Clutter Clearer.

Each day on their Facebook page, they post two things: An inspiration photo and a tip.

The tips are realistic, useful and require inexpensive items to implement. More often than not, I think, “Whoa! Why didn’t I think of that?”

The inspiration photos are just that–photos of rooms that are both attractive and well-organized. Not every one will be to everyone’s taste, but there are good ideas in the pictures, too.

The tips on the Clutter Clearer Facebook page are the most consistently realistic ideas I’ve ever seen on a site like this.

Get on over there, search for “Clutter Clearer” in that little box at the top, and Like their page.

If you’re not on Facebook, you can find their website here. I don’t see any tips there, however, so Facebook is better!

You know, you can read about how to knit sweaters out of wool from your herd of alpacas—or you can take some actual small steps toward organizing your environment.

Totally up to you!

Deck the halls!

I’m done!

I have finished my Christmas shopping! And it’s not even December.

This is the absolute earliest I have ever been finished.

Clearly, there is some child that has been left off the list. An inadvertently missed niece or nephew lurking in the background. It is hard to believe that I don’t have to go to the mall again.

However, I’m going to try to believe that my lists are accurate and that everything that needs delivering will arrive in time to be wrapped, appropriately-sized boxes will appear, rolls of wrapping paper will hold out until all items are attractively covered and the re-shipping will proceed apace.

I have plans to sail through this year with time to enjoy holiday movies and my own Boat Parade party and maybe baking some cookies (and maybe not, because I have a tendency to eat them if I bake them).

I don’t know why it seemed somewhat easier this year, but I am devoutly thankful.

The red brick road

Where does it go?

There’s a picture making the rounds on Facebook of Dorothy at the start of the Yellow Brick Road. It’s a screencap, of course, from the classic film, The Wizard of Oz.

If you remember the movie, you will recall that the yellow brick road starts in a spiral. (If you don’t remember the movie, you better watch it again!) The negative space—the part that’s not yellow—is red.

Hence the caption on this screencap that says: Where does the red brick road go?

My first reaction was laughter. Not rolling on the floor hysterics, but at least one “ha!” The essence of humor, it has been said, is thwarted expectations, surprise, incongruities.

This caption is surprising because it never occurred to me to ask that question. So, what I’m wondering today is not where the red brick road goes—although that is an excellent question and might merit another blockbuster musical à la Wicked.

What I am wondering is why some people’s brains work in such a way as to come up with that question and mine does not.

It’s a dumb little internet meme. And yet. . .

Isn’t it what creativity is all about? Putting things together in new and interesting ways? Taking a leap? Asking the questions?

I’m supposed to be a creative person. I’ve been paid for creativity in the past. I hope to be paid for creativity in the future.

But this is not how my mind works.

And I wonder about that.

On a practical level, I understand that, in this instance, my attention in the movie is directed so thoroughly as those ruby slippers step along to the accompanying chant of “Follow the yellow brick road! Follow the yellow brick road! Follow the, follow the, follow the, follow the, follow the yellow brick road!” that the red brick right next to it is completely overlooked. It doesn’t register. I don’t think about it.

This little Facebook funny is a lesson to me.

I better start wondering about things more often than on Wednesdays.

“What if?” and “Why?” and “Why not?” are indispensable tools for artists—and…oh, I don’t know…everybody, don’t you think?

Why not?

I’m not sure yet

But it is entirely possible—

That model trains are more trouble than they are worth.

All right, NOW it’s 17 trees

15 + 2

I’m not especially good at math, but I’m pretty sure that’s 17.

Yesterday, I was talking about how I had gone with my mom’s garden club to the park to decorate 17 trees that turned out to be 14 trees, really.

Oh, wait!

That means the equation is 14 + 2 which is not 17 trees at all, but rather 16! (I told you I was no good at math.)

The two is for the two trees I’ve decorated at my own house today. Although, if you wanted to stretch a point, you could say that one of them was so complicated that it counts as two—which would make my decorating score for today three which would make my total score 17—thus lending an air of authenticity to the headline of this post.

One of them was simple.

My bubble light tree.

Decoration involves taking it out of the box, fluffing its branches, screwing in the bubble lights, and plugging it into an outlet. Voilà!

I love my bubble light tree—and not only because it is easy to get it up and running. Mostly, I just think the bubble lights are way cool!

The second tree was our official tree.

We have the most gorgeous artificial tree. Purists among you will shudder, but it truly is the most realistic looking fake tree I have ever seen. If I could get it to smell like a fir tree, no one would ever know the difference.

Of course. . .some assembly required.

All the branches have to be attached and arranged in their proper order. A little forethought during dis-assembly and packing for storage, however, and this is not much of an ordeal. The needles are a bit scratchy when you have to reach inside the branches, but this can be mitigated by wearing long sleeves.

It’s not so much the assembly that complicated matters as it was the MotH’s* new project around the model train.

We’ve had this model train for ages. In our NY apartment, it didn’t have a lot of scope. For the first few years we were here in Florida, it seemed all we could do to get the dock decorated. The train was short-changed again. This year, however, the MotH decided it was time for the train to come into its own.

He built a platform.

A big platform.

Not only for the train, but for the tree, too.

Holy Moly! The tree is now nine feet high.

Putting on branches, stringing lights and garland required two ladders. Placement of ornaments involved much climbing.

It is a miracle nobody fell out of the tree. (It is a miracle that nobody has carted me off to Bellevue by virtue of the mere fact that anybody could fall out of a tree inside my house!)

But, the tree is now up (waaaaaay up!), and it’s all decorated, and the train is lying at its feet.

We’re going to have to make a trip to the hobby shop for some more track—and, I’m thinking. . .maybe. . . .cows?

But that’s a whole other story.

* Man of the House

17 Trees

I’ve just decorated 17 trees!

Well, actually, it turned out to be 14 trees, and I only really worked on six of them, but still. . .

And I haven’t even put up my own Christmas tree yet.

To tell you the truth, just at the moment, I don’t really ever want to see another tree.

It’s all due to the Parade of Trees in the little town in which my mother lives. The city puts up well over a hundred trees in the park and strings lights on them. After that, the trees are up for adoption by individuals, organizations, and businesses. Some people “adopt” a tree and decorate it themselves, some people “adopt” a tree, specifying a theme, and pay for the city to do the decorating, and some people “adopt” and leave the whole thing up to the city.

It’s those last two groups I have to thank for my day of decorating.

See, my mother belongs to a garden club. The garden club basically hires itself out to decorate the trees in the city park that have been adopted by those unable or unwilling to do their own decorating. It’s kind of a fundraiser for the club.

But 17—okay, 14— trees!

And it’s a small club.

Ergo. . .I was asked to assist—i.e., I got arm-twisted.

Anyway, I spent the day in the park stringing garland, tying bows, hanging ornaments, etc. There’s also an angel on top of one of the taller trees that owes her particular tipsy air to me.

It’s quite a display.

One of our trees is all red, white and blue. Two of them have nautical themes. One is a symphony in red and green. One is all over poinsettias. And the sixth. . . well, I can’t hardly remember the sixth. Oh! It was simply a multi-colored theme.

I didn’t look at the other eight the rest of the garden club decorated. Four hours into it, I’d about had it with trees. Just for the moment. I’ll thoroughly enjoy going back to the park during the official Parade of Trees opening day and wandering the paths among the forest of fun.

And, I’ll thoroughly enjoy putting up my own tree. Just. . .maybe not for a day or two.

Silliness

On a Saturday.

I’m instituting Silly Saturdays. I do not promise, however, to find enough silliness to manage a Silly Saturday every Saturday. Sometimes, this new feature of the blog will alternate with a Serious Saturday. Or—you know—just a Same Old Saturday.

Today, however, thanks to the folks over at Ohgizmo.com, where I originally found these things, I can safely say that this is a Silly Saturday.

First up, check out the USB Toast Hand Warmers.

Now, this product strikes me as being a good idea. Speaking as a person who has nearly perpetually cold hands, I like the idea of a USB-powered hand warmer that leaves my fingers free to type. But. . .they look too silly to use. I don’t think I’m going to be rushing out to buy them. On the other hand, let the temperature drop far enough, and then, we’ll see. Along about January, anything could happen. (I wonder if they heat up too much to allow for quick disconnect and stashing in a drawer—without setting the house on fire? If you’re ever in my office in the winter and you smell smoke, you’ll know what happened.)

Secondly, there’s a bit of brilliant silliness to show you. The only thing that stops me from putting in my order for the Baby Mop is the fact that I don’t actually have a baby. I could borrow one, I suppose, but I’m not sure the parents of any available babies would approve. Also, I suspect it might be a grey area under current child labor law—although, really, you’re just leveraging a baby’s natural activities, aren’t you? The Baby Mop is a onesie (those one-piece jumpsuits that look far more stylish on Catwoman or Mrs. Peel than on the average baby), with mop-like fringe along the forearms and the shins. Baby crawls. Hardwood floor gets dry-mopped. It’s one of those things where you think, Oh, no! And then you think, Hmmmm.

Pesky child labor laws. Those dang unions! Always getting in the way.

History lives

It’s walked out of the books and onto the screen.

My grandfather collected books about Lincoln. Abraham, not Nebraska. I’ve read a few of them. Not all, by any means. So, I know a bit about our 16th president.

Most citizens of the United States do.

He’s one of the few that everybody remembers and everybody reveres.

Sometimes, we forget he was a masterful politician.

Go see Stephen Spielberg’s new movie, Lincoln.

It’s going to sweep the awards. It deserves to do so.

What a gorgeous film on practically every level.

The acting—across the board—superb! Daniel Day-Lewis is the Lincoln I would have requisitioned if I could have imagined the perfect actor—and my imagination would have fallen short of this performance. The supporting cast: David Strathairn, Tommy Lee Jones, James Spader, Sally Field, Hal Holbrook and countless others disappear into the time and the story and the persons. After the first flash of recognition, all their star qualities, the tricks and trademarks, vanish as if they had never been. We are watching William Seward, Thaddeus Stephens, W. N. Bilbo, Mary Todd Lincoln, Preston Blair.

The script is fascinating. Based largely on Doris Kearns Goodwin’s A Team of Rivals, Tony Kushner has transcended the usual bio pic to give an in-depth study of the machinations surrounding the passing of the 13th Amendment to the Constitution. The wheeling and dealing, the lofty ideals and the base political machinations are all laid out before us.

The cinematography is beautiful. The film is shot in a palette almost indescribable. Suffice it to say that the historical details of setting and costume are crisp and clean, and yet, the whole thing has a patina of age, a not-quite-sepia tone of old photographs.

The direction—okay, I have a few quibbles—but the overall achievement is of such high quality that I’m not going to pick nits.

The score—one of the few movie soundtracks I feel I ought to buy.

I am going to buy the DVD. The minute I can.

This movie is a FIND. With a capital F.I.N.D. Run—with a capital R—to see it.

Why else?

“What we’re really talking about is a wonderful day set aside on the fourth Thursday of November when no one diets. I mean, why else would they call it Thanksgiving?”
~ Erma Bombeck

Why else, indeed?

This is the official Thankful Thursday.

We’re all thankful for health, wealth, love and friendship, roofs over our heads, food on our tables, peace in our time. (Well, maybe not today. It is the day we spend with family, after all. Somebody’s bound to have a fight.)

My official Thanksgiving gratitude list probably looks a lot like yours. I don’t have kids—and you may. You might not have a new sofa—and I do. Our different jobs are at different stages of success. Our bones are creaking more or less loudly depending on our different ages. Some of us live in colder states than others. Some of us even live under various different systems of government in different countries.

Some of us have had wonderful luck this year, and some of us have faced hardship and sadness. Some of us might even have trouble thinking of something for which to be thankful today.

So, let’s take a moment, just a moment, to remember this.

Now.

In this moment.

If you are reading this.

You are one of the luckiest people on earth.

870 million people in the world do not have enough to eat. *

780 million people lack access to fresh water.**

Almost half the world, over 3 billion people, live on less than $2.50 a day.***

More than 34 million people worldwide are living with HIV.****

There have been bombs dropping in Israel and Gaza for over a week.

Let’s not even talk about the Sudan.

Just, in general, the mere fact of having a computer, electricity, running water, something for dinner, puts us way ahead of far too many people.

Sure, we’ve all got problems and things that make us unhappy.

Let us be thankful, however, that so many of them are First World problems.

Enjoy the food, the family and the fights.

Enjoy your luck.

Happy Thanksgiving. (Someday, for everybody.)

* World Food Project

** Global Issues

*** Water

**** UNAIDS

Roses in December

“God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.”
~J. M. Barrie

Today, I am wondering where my mind went.

I nearly forgot to do this blog post. How is that possible? I know I have to do a daily blog post. I’ve done one, day after day, for months. Nearly six months now. And, today, it is only by accident, it seems, that there will be something appearing.

I thought of it several times yesterday. I had a couple of topics in mind.

And then. . .I forgot.

This is a somewhat disturbing trend.

Definitely something to wonder about—where my mind went.

On the other hand, one could wonder about the equally amazing phenomenon that nearly the first thing I thought of when I awoke—far too early this morning—was OMG! I never did my blog post.

Memory is a strange thing.

An odd tightrope.

Sometimes, it seems like the more you put into it the more it can hold. When I am very, very busy with multiple projects and hundreds of details, I can often track them like a bloodhound. When I have less to do, it’s like the old brain goes on a slow boat to Bermuda.

Sometimes, though, when I am very, very busy with multiple projects and hundreds of details, the whole thing springs a leak. Multiple leaks. Things start slipping through the cracks, and the cracks—well, they start to resemble the proverbial sieve. Then, when I have less to do, a single-minded purpose, that one thing can become nearly an obsession.

An odd tightrope.

Some days, you over-balance in one direction; some days, it’s the other.

I’ve always had a really good memory. It’s a bit disconcerting when this kind of thing happens. As I get older, too, the occasional missed connection gets more worrying. Is this a trend? I wonder.

I think I’ll spend part of today learning a poem or something.

Memory is a muscle, too.

And I like roses. . .December or otherwise.

(But first, I’m going back to bed. Later, ‘gators.)

Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

Monthly Archives: November 2012