The Things I Put Up With Around Here!

I've been thinking about writing a book lately. Sure, there are plenty of useful and brilliant things I could write about - the great American novel, profound thoughts that would change peoples' lives, inspiring words of wisdom that would frame a generation... But, what I really feel compelled to write about is all the everyday stuff that we put up with.

Don't take me wrong, here. When I say 'put up with,' there is no negative connotation implied. I am a firm believer in living an empowered life, and never being a victim of circumstances. Indeed, I don't believe in being a victim at all, and loathe all forms of self pity and spinelessness.  I don't dole out the band aids or Kleenex without really good reason, and believe that the best way to get ahead is by a firm pulling upward on one's own bootstraps - and no slacking off when doing so either. You best be sure you're helping others along the way. (Imagine having to have ME as a mother!)

No, when I say that there are things that I have to put up with, it's really a reflection of my priorities. If something gets problematic enough to stop the effective flow of my life, I'll deal with it. If it's just a minor annoyance, I'm likely to leave it alone. Since I'm not really a detail oriented person, the list of little things that I'm willing to put up with has gotten progressively longer the older I get.

Most of these little hitches in my get a long, so to speak, are minor. I'm sure that, if I set my mind to it, I could probably fix half the list in the course a single long afternoon and with only a few of my hard-earned dollars expended in the process. But, where am I going to find a free afternoon and few dollars that converge all at once? If I have free time and money, I'm certainly going to find more interesting ways to spend them! Plus, if I fixed all the little stuff, what would I have to write about?

Here's a list of my favorite little problems that I put up with in everyday life. Feel free to share yours. Who knows - they might even make it into my book! ;)

• My dryer isn't level. When I open the door to load or unload clothes, the door swings shut automatically. I often find myself propping the door open with one leg, as I lean over to the front-load washer and drag an armload of wet clothes into the dryer's gaping mouth. Sometimes I prop it open by putting the broom in front of the door, or require one of my younger children to hold it open for me. Occasionally I'll have had a day full of minor annoyances, and (unable to face another) I will just give the task of switching loads to my oldest child. On the up side - for the first year we lived here the dryer was not level AND the washer door swung the wrong direction, causing me to have to drag wet clothes over the door in order to get them into the dryer. Total estimated fix time : 5 minutes. Cost : $0

• I have a Betty Crocker Cookbook from 1968 that has a permanent place of honor on my kitchen counter. It rocks. I use it at least 3 times a week. It has everything you could possibly want to make, including some recipes (like scrambled brains) that I can't imagine anyone ever wanting to cook. Short of some Julia Child-esque masterpiece dish, I'm pretty sure I can make anything life would require of me out of that cook book. The only problem - the last few pages of the index have come loose. They're stowed away on a bookshelf in my dining room under the rest of my cookbooks.  I'm fine as long the dish I want to make starts with A-P. Anything else, well... it becomes a little tricky. I once found a recipe for pear tart (which you would usually find under either the 'p' or 't' sections) by looking up 'fruit' and working my way back from there. The cross referencing and logical layout make the book easy to use, even with the missing index pages. Occasionally I find myself unable to find a particular recipe that I'm looking for. So, on those nights, we have a nifty jello salad instead of tapioca, or just plain potatoes instead of turnip gratin. (Not found under the 'g's' - just so you know.) Perhaps I am missing out on a world of recipes (or at least 10 letters worth), but who really likes turnips anyway!? Total estimated fix time : 5 minutes. Cost : $3 (including the cost for ring-reinforcing stickers). 

•  I still have three separate remotes. I know it's possible to get a universal remote that would control my TV, my converter box, and my DVD player all at once. But then, where would that leave us when my youngest stole that remote and put it in the freezer? None of my remotes have batteries in them right now, either. Well, they never have batteries in them... ever. To be fair, they do have some batteries. One is full of dead batteries. One has 2 good batteries and one bad one. The other has no batteries at all. In fact, the back is missing. There are still the remnants of the scotch tape that used to hold it on. You'd think this little problem would stop us from watching too much TV. Alas, the only effect it has had is that we can no longer access special functions on DVDs. Who needs to watch the director's commentary, anyway? Total estimated fix time : 5 minutes (including programming a new remote). Cost: $10, including batteries

• We have had 2 lamps in our living room - one on either side of the couch - for 2 years now. One of them didn't have a light bulb for about 10 months. We sure appreciated the extra light once we put one in, but we did take our sweet time in getting that job done. Now comes inconvenience number two - sometime in the past two weeks our youngest child screwed the little twirly knob that you twist to turn the light on (I'm sure there's a real name for it, but it's not worth looking up right now) in the wrong direction until it came off. I know it's bound to be somewhere on the floor close by. However, I've not taken (found? used?) the time to look. So, at least twice a day, every day, I have been  twisting the threaded, skinny nubbin left in order to turn the lamp on and off. I have a groove worn in my index finger. Of course, the logical thing to do would be to get down on my hands and knees and search for the knob. Or, better yet, I could go to the hardware store and buy a new one. Most likely, however, I will stop using the light, or wait until the bulb burns out, therefore buying myself at least six months before I really have to think about the problem again. Total estimated fix time : 3 minutes. Cost : potentially up to $0.50 for a replacement knob.

•  Speaking of light - the lightbulb in my oven has been burned out for over a year and a half. Ditto the one on the freezer in the garage. I think these little problems make mealtime a bit adventurous - you never know what you're going to dig out of the freezer, or what it's going to look like when it comes out of the oven. Replacing these bulbs (at least one of which I'm almost certain we already have in the office) would take away some of the spontaneity of life (or at least dinner) in La Casa Farrier. Total estimated fix time : 3 minutes. Cost : $1.98. 

So, that's what it's like at our house. The appliances (like the people) are a bit unbalanced and occasionally on the dim side. It may not be pretty, but things get done. Lest you think that my "Leave R Be" (as opposed to "Get R Done") attitude stems from some sort of laziness, let me just remind you that the total investment involved in fixing just these five things alone would add up to over $15.00 and over 20 minutes. That's plenty of resources to both buy AND read two brand new books with my children, which I consider a MUCH better investment of my time and money. Plus, don't forget that there's still a sticky toilet handle, drippy faucet, lack of sharpened pencils or working pens, sliding closet door off its track, and so many other minor things to deal with that I'm hesitant to start down that road. Perhaps after I'm rich from writing my book I can hire someone to fix these things. I'll keep you posted.

Busy, Busy, Busy

Forever more I reject the titles 'overbooked', 'too busy', or 'procrastinator.' Instead, I would appreciate it if from this point forward you would just refer to me as 'The Evil Knievel of Scheduling.' Thank you very much.

It's not that I feel cheated, per se, in the fact that I only have 24 hours in my day, like everyone else. But, seriously - if they're talking about selling carbon credits, can't we at least discuss the option of selling spare time too? I can see it now - special banks and exchanges for you to make deposits and withdrawals of, well... time. Choose increments from 10 minutes (for unexpected bouts of constipation or a bonus game of solitaire) all the way up to one week (helpful for vacationers and college students cramming for those final exams). Everyone's always worried that social security alone is not enough to cover the expenses of seniors. Well - I say, let them sell their extra time! What else are the sleepless hours from 6:00 a.m to 8:00 a.m good for, anyway? Bored teenagers getting into trouble after school? Sell that time and put the money in your college fund! Better yet - plan ahead and invest that time so you won't end up a frazzled home schooling mother of 3 with a part time job and a lobbying addiction that cuts into even her Facebook activities.

Oh, who am I fooling? Even if they did create a Time Exchange Bank it would probably be taxed to the point of being worthless, ultimately costing millions in bail outs and user fees. After a lengthy Congressional Investigation and the involvement of the UN Commission on Banking Practices the whole thing would be shut down, defaulting on time loans left and right. Millions would end up late for work, late on bills, late handing in homework, and with no extra time to see to their stress-induced digestive complaints. I suppose the best answer for those who find themselves short on time is the age-old, tried-and-true, common sense solution of staying up too late every night to get things done. (And you thought I was going to say something about planning ahead and using wise time management techniques. Hah!) After all, why would a candle have two ends if we're not supposed to burn both of them at the same time?

I am a night owl by nature. Even as a kid I never went to bed early. I'm lucky if I've got my teeth brushed by midnight these days. The post -10 p.m. hours are the only time I've got to myself. Much as I love having company while I do dishes (and fold clothes, and make supper, and sweep the floor, and talk on the phone, and take a bath) it is nice every once in a while to have my brain to myself. Today I was typing up an email to send out to hundreds of families about a very important legislative meeting. I was mumbling aloud in order to hear if the email made sense. I had just said, "... meet under the rotunda for lunch..." when I was suddenly assaulted by a barrage of questions.

Five Year Old: Lunch? Did she say lunch? I love lunch!
Three Year Old : Why you say lunch, Mommy? Mommy? Why you say lunch?
Nine Year Old : Yeah, that reminds me. I'm hungry. Can we have noodles for lunch?

That'll teach me to proofread aloud! Befuddled by the confusion, I was compelled to hastily wrap up the email (I'm not entirely sure, but the words hungry and/or mommy might have slipped into it, unbidden) and go make lunch for the girls. Yes, it was noodles. Like someone struggling to rise to consciousness, I am slow to understand and vulnerable to the power of suggestion when I multi-task. I think my children know to wait until the very moment when my eyebrows lower, my lips purse, and I exhale lightly, ready to finally coalesce a brilliant idea I'd been working on for months, before they ask for something.Well, either that, or they wait for when I'm on the phone. That seems to work for them as well.

The net result of all this is that my productivity and focus are not what they could be. I suppose I could send my children off to school each day and really get down to business in my nice, quiet home. Better yet, I could get an office, with my own computer dedicated only to work, its keyboard never covered in anything sticky. I could even have an assistant who would follow me to meetings and carry my file folders, rather than the assistants I have now who follow me to the bathroom carrying broken toys for me to mend. I could enter the world of high finance instead of the world of low-slung diapers; mingle with CEOs instead of mangling PBJs; make my mark instead of cleaning up the marks left by others. But, where would the fun be in any of that?

Evil Knievel didn't jump puddles with a Schwinn, baby, and the Evil Knievel of Scheduling doesn't take the easy way out either. Let 'em have their cubicles and meetings, their secretaries and their powerpoint presentations. I'll take the risky path any day, and love every minute of it. The high yields of happy, healthy children are far more important to me than a safe investment in the status quo. Besides - what else are the hours from 10:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. for, anyway? It's not like I can sell that time...

Blogettes

I often find myself with great blog one-liners that never get the chance to see the light of day because they don't lend themselves to another topic or a longer post. Seems a shame to deny these little blogettes their five minutes of fame. Here are some of the random thoughts that have gone through my head this past few weeks. Feel free to try to extrapolate the situation in which they occurred if it will increase the comedic value for you...

• Potty Update: In one week my youngest child will be 3 years old. She frequently pretends to be a kitty.  She absolutely refuses to use the potty, though when asked to she will consider sitting on the porcelain "litterbox".
• How is it that I can scoop until my hands are numb and never get down to the gravel in my driveway - leaving me spinning for traction on packed snow all winter. And, yet - when spring comes, there is gravel where my snow pile once was? 
• It's no wonder that most yoga poses have animal names. Everyone's heard of 'downward dog' and 'cobra pose'. Want a real workout? Try barnyard yoga - 'stretching hen' (one wing out front, the opposite leg stretched behind), 'bored goat' (head through fence, contorted at a 90 degree angle), or 'bottle fed calf' (legs akimbo, neck extended to its fullest extent, eyes rolled back in head).
  
• Why is it that cats always need to use the litterbox while you are scooping it? I do not feel the need to pee into the toilet while it's being flushed... And, how come the water in our cups always seems to taste better to them than the water in their bowl?
• I recently overheard my oldest daughter asking her sisters questions like this, "Will you please give me that toy? ... Say yes." I have to admit - she has moxie, and it was working for her before I put a stop to it. I'm thinking of borrowing the move for a day or two, just to see how it works out for me. 
• Here's a public service announcement - Most people are not as interested in the features on your new cell phone as you are. Just an FYI.
• Why don't TV stations put better shows on late at night? If you're up at 1:00 a.m. you're already suffering from insomnia. Why should you have to suffer from bad television too?
• How come I can get 200 friends on Facebook within a week of starting my page, but I can never find a babysitter on a Wednesday night? 
• Free range chickens don't range far when it's 10 below zero.
  
• It's no wonder the cost of living is cheaper down south. Our little town here in Iowa has had to pay tens of thousands of dollars in man hours and equipment just to keep the roads clear. In my hometown in Oklahoma the winter road crew consisted of (and I'm totally not making this up) a guy in the back of a 2 wheel drive pick up with a grain scoop and a pile of sand. Wasn't the most effective way to keep the roads safe, but it didn't really matter. South of the Mason Dixon line cars are pre-programmed to drive off the road automatically if there are more than 17 snowflakes on the pavement.
  
• My hens live in our old outhouse by the road. It's drafty, to say the least, and in order to keep them warm in this frigid weather I put in a heat lamp. The red glow seeps out of the cracks in the boards at night. Yep, we have now officially given our Amish neighbors yet another thing to talk about.
• I want a tractor. No - I want enough land to need a tractor. Come to think of it - I want to be the kind of person who knows how to drive a tractor. Better yet - I want to be the kind of person who can fix a tractor. While wearing a feed store cap. And I want to wipe my hands on a red rag tucked into my back pocket. Tractors are the gateway drug to rural girls' fantasies...
• Why do so many people drink soda, beer, and coffee when the natural instinct of 99.9% of children the first time they try these beverages is to spit them out? I've been told that you have to 'acquire a taste for it.' Yes, but why would I want to? Surely I can get my empty calories and caffeine somewhere else, can't I? Isn't that why chocolate was invented?
  
• Why is it that we keep cigarettes legal so we can tax the daylights out of them for revenue, and then turn around and use taxpayer dollars to launch aggressive campaigns to try to get people to stop smoking? Ditto gambling.
  
• Why does anyone buy anything from infomercials? Those black and white sections where the voice over says, "has this ever happened to you" make people look like complete idiots - totally unable to even wield a knife or turn on a blender without creating some pulpy disaster. And who, really, is surprised at this point when they dramatically announce that they'll drop one whole payment if we call in the next five minutes? If a salesperson in a store insulted my intelligence as much as an infomercial does I'd sue, and yet these sheisters are selling Magic Bullets and NuWave Ovens by the hundreds. I just don't get it. 
• And, finally - how is it that the mind droppings of an over-scheduled homeschooling mom can be interesting enough to have garnered 20 dedicated readers? More importantly, how can I turn that into a lucrative career? :)
  

Winter

You know, there are a million different ways to exercise. In Oregon they hike in majestic redwood forests. In California they jog on sandy beaches. In Florida they play tennis in the citrus-scented breeze. In Iowa - we scoop snow. I just shoveled our driveway. Well, that's only partly true. I just shoveled 1/2 or our driveway. I'll do the rest when the feeling returns to my toes. Plus, is it fair to call it shoveling when at this point I'm just making tunnels? Whatever you call it, at least I got a good workout. Despite the fact that it is a balmy 6 degrees outside (with a -13 windchill) I was stripping layers and sweating under my Carharts. I guess busting 4 foot drifts will do that for you.

So far I've not found a website or diet book that tells me exactly what kind of workout you get shoveling snow, but I'm going to estimate (conservatively, of course) that I burned 42,878 calories out there - give or take a few. Of course, it doesn't help that I've taken in 43,952 in the last two days in hot chocolate and homemade bread alone. (Hot chocolate and fresh baked goods are frequently prescribed by physicians in the north to combat Seasonal Affective Disorder, Hypothermia, Cabin Fever and other common serious winter maladies.) I'm hoping that my afternoon scooping will put me back in balance, calorie wise, but I did promise to bake cookies for my daughter's 4-H club tomorrow...

I've never liked winter. I used to attribute it to the fact that I was born in Oklahoma and lived there until I was 6 years old. Winter there meant a light frost occasionally and a reprieve from weeding the garden. Leading child psychologists often say that the first 5 years shape the rest of your life. So, as a child, I assumed that I abhored December thru February because of my warm upbringing during my formative years. Now I've come to realize that it's just because winter sucks.

Don't get me wrong - I know there are people who just love the crisp, clean look of a fresh layer of snow. They don their parka and matching hat and glove set with glee, sometimes even strapping on a pair of snowshoes or cross country skis. These are the people who have jaunty snowmen in their yard. They are out cheerfully scooping by the time the fourth flake has hit the ground. They decorate with snowflake window clings and glittery snowmen figurines. I'm not sure - but they probably even make snow angels. Surely there is as village in Maine (or perhaps the Himalayas somewhere) that is missing them...

There isn't a single family in Iowa who doesn't have at least a half dozen grainy photos from each generation of bundled human shapes standing next to enormous snow drifts, snow men, snow piles and/or snow forts. It is often impossible to tell who is in the picture, since they are covered in 18 layers of clothing. Relative size, at that point, also is no help. A lone person standing next to a snow drift taller than his head could be little six-year-old Bobby (from the blizzard of '73) or Dad going out to hay the cattle (from the blizzard of '62). Living in Iowa gives you grit, and so we carry on. We scoop. We scrape windshields. We don boots and hats, gloves and scarves, wool socks and thermal underwear. We get chapped lips, chapped cheeks, and chapped hands. In short - we we make the best of it.

The coal stove needs to be stoked and shaken down, and I need to empty the ash pan. The chickens will need to have their waterer de-iced and filled, and the snow shovel is still calling my name. I guess it's time to throw on the insulated overalls and boots and get back outside. There may be drifts in the driveway, but at least I've got grit to get me through...