Machine Washable

I don't have a lot of 'nice' things. Don't get me wrong- I have cute things, they're just not usually very high quality. Anything nice that I do have is almost certainly a gift or a hand-me-down from my mom. I've always said that were it not for my benefactor, we'd have cinder block bookshelves and bed sheets stapled to the windows. Because of her, my home has never reflected how truly poor we might have been at the time. I was raised in a very nice home and was quite accustomed to fine things, but as I ventured out in a poorly disguised version of 'living on my own' I became more and more aware that my adult life would probably not mirror the example I had as a child. I was not raised in wealth, nor was I particularly spoiled, but I never had to go without and I could usually have what I needed. Our homes were not small, and they were always beautifully appointed. 

I went through a series of progressive adjustments once I left the comparative luxury of my parent's home and became accustomed to the fact that I would lead a simpler lifestyle. My lack of expensive things originated from the lack of money necessitated to buy high quality things, but fortunately for me it has also become a choice of lifestyle. I have definite opinions, styles, and preferences, but I have found that they can almost always be accommodated without spending a lot of money. Because I was fortunate enough to be raised in  beautiful and creative environments I learned to create those spaces myself. There are times when something may warrant spending as much as you can afford, when you are buying an investment piece or something substantial where cheap just won't do, but many more times when it is just not expedient to spend exorbitant amounts of money unnecessarily.

I'm also very casual. I don't own or even want china. I don't care about a formal dining room. I don't care much for anything formal in fact. And clothes? Getting dressed up and accessorized once a week for church is fulfilling enough for me. The rest of the week I am usually happy in jeans or even stretchy pants unless an occasion warrants otherwise.  Sometimes I work hard and sweat profusely, staining my clothes. I get down on my hands and knees and get to work, in whatever I'm wearing. I have to scrub toilets and bathtubs. I clean litter boxes and wipe bums. I need clothes I can move in, and that will not cost me an arm and leg to repeatedly throw in the washer and dryer- or worse, dry cleaning! (the horror) And sometimes I drip ice cream down my front, or more often I drop food into my cavernous cleavage. Sometimes I don't find it until I change my clothes at night when it falls out of my bra.

I also have kids. As a new mother I was aghast to find dry clean-only baby clothes! I don't want silk covered chairs that I have to cover, again, when they are in use to protect the silk. I don't want fabrics that will stain and ruin with the very threat of little fingers approaching and that will stain once again as I try to clean them. I don't want delicate drapes that will tear the first time one of my errant children plays in them despite my repeated threats of bodily harm if they should do so. I want something I can repeatedly throw in the wash and know it will come out alright.  I want a clean home as well, and feel satisfied by washing something and then drying it in high temperatures, erasing and killing whatever may be there, real or unreal, seen or unseen.

A long time ago as I was washing my living room pillows for the umpteenth time, I realized that I live a 'machine washable life', and I like it. I think you could aptly describe my whole life with that term: Machine Washable. Sensible, practical, durable, affordable, but still cute. Something that might get dirty frequently because you really use it, sharing it with people in your life, but is easily remedied, coming out clean again and again- if not a little worse for the wear.

That's me- Machine Washable. My person, my home,  my lifestyle.

Empty

{Yes, that is white wine in my fridge. Cooking wine. It should also be noted that all contents on the right hand side of the fridge belong to Timm, except for the Diet Coke with lime that I have repossessed.}

I probably should have guessed it when I arrived home and was immediately met with a cat crap stain in the living room and an unidentifiable smell pervading the house: It was not going to be an easy return.

To be fair, I should preface this with saying that Timm went above and beyond what is necessary or expected to ensure that I came home to a clean house. I always make sure that I leave the house clean, whether I leave for the day, or for an extended trip like this, so it is very gratifying to see him take the care to do the same. He mopped, he did all the laundry, he changed the sheets, he ironed, he vacuumed, he did the dishes- It was great. Unfortunately he was not home to intercept the aforementioned cat crap stain or the other debacles I was yet to face.

 We got in after 11pm, and the girls didn't get in bed until midnight. I stayed up for a bit going through mail and enjoying the first quiet I experienced in nearly three weeks. The next day was spent doing the usual post-trip chores: unpacking, laundry, vacuuming, pouring out the two week past-expiration solid milk Timm left in the fridge, etc. That evening we finally went out to the grocery store to procure some much-needed staples for the next few days. After about an hour of shopping, we went to check out. Being almost entirely out of food, the total was a bit more than I expected and I swiped the credit card to make the purchase. Timm and I had previously carefully planned out the final expenses of the month, dividing them between the scarce balances on our two credit cards. (Our goal of paying those off isn't going too well. It's a tough gig trying to survive on the less than $2500 a month paycheck a teacher's salary provides.10 months a year. For a family of 4.) Needless to say, the card was declined. In futility, I tried again. (I'm a glutton for punishment and public embarrassment.) Next I tried to write a check, reasoning that it wouldn't go through before he was paid on Friday, only to find that I had left my driver's license at home. They called over two different managers, both of whom refused to take my check without my driver's license. Even with another form of id and my social. Defeated, I left the store telling them I would be back with my driver's license even though I knew it was not true. I don't know why I told them I would return, but it was probably to save face. Upon leaving, Bella realized that they were out of free cookies and started to cry while Fiona loudly protested over her bandaids that we had to leave behind in the cart.  I couldn't help it: I cried on the way home, and I cried when we got home. I fed them toast for dinner and then started in on the next obstacle designed to defeat me.

At some point during the day I tried to move some food from our freezer to out chest freezer, only to find that at some point while I was away it had tripped the breaker, which happens frequently. The good news is, being poor as we are, there was hardly any food in it. The bad news is, there was some previously frozen Brussels sprouts, which had thawed and proceeded to decompose for approximately 2 weeks. Now, I love Brussels sprouts. Fresh, well-prepared Brussels spouts. However,  I cannot adequately describe to you the power or force of the stench that was unleashed when I broke the seal on that chest freezer. The cruciferous odor that had been captured in that small space was enough to take on a life of it's own. If it were a cartoon, it would be a thick green ribbon snaking through the house leaving death and destruction in it's wake. Since it was not a cartoon, I tied a dish towel over my nose and mouth and opened the freezer once more to face it's fury. After I threw away the offending and ruined food, I began to try and drain the 2 inches of standing water infused with essence of rotten Brussels sprouts. I attempted to drain it onto cookie sheets, but kept spilling fetid water onto the carpet so I opted to sop it up with towels which I quickly transferred to the washing machine. I wiped it out with Lysol and let it air out overnight, but I'm afraid some damage is irreversible. I am what they say a 'super-smeller' and keep thinking I smell those Brussels sprouts wherever I go.

Lastly, coming back East was a much harder adjustment, and Bella was obviously stuck on Vegas time since she didn't fall asleep until after midnight. I was desperately trying to watch last week's Survivor on my laptop, trying to reverse the damages of the day while pillaging their Easter candy, and she kept coming out, all. night. long. Eventually we both settled into my bed, and she fell asleep there around midnight. We took the day off again today, hoping to get her acclimated enough to return to school on Friday. I got a few groceries, and Timm gets his teacher's lump sum tomorrow. I'm trying not to think about the fact that it will almost be gone the same day after our online automatic bill pay has it's way with it.

For now I am going to settle in for another Survivor on my laptop, and make sure that girl is asleep this time.

Whew. Tomorrow I can start on my trip highlights, of which there were many.

How I Roll

These are the kind of clothes I wear lately. Not that it was a nice shirt to begin with, but now as you can clearly see, it's pretty much trash. Or it would be to most self-respecting people. I however, wear it very regularly.

There are a few reasons for this, primarily because I have no money to buy new clothes. Secondary to that, but only just barely, is the fact that I am not in a physical condition to buy new clothes. I still have about 50 pounds to lose and have been quite complacent about that for far too long. I have a closet full of clothes that don't fit, and even if I had the money to go shopping (which I don't), I wouldn't want or know how to comfortably dress this current body of mine. It's not that I'm unfamiliar with being overweight, but I am never comfortable with it. Especially when it involves confronting a three-way mirror in a public place that is not conducive to fits of despair and audible tears of grief and shame.

But I digress- back to having no money. (It's a common theme in my life.) Not only do we have no money, but we have too much debt. It's a revolving door we have been going through all of our marriage- Not making enough money to get by and then relying on credit cards (or student loans in those days) to cover the neccesities. Usually it is for some actual emergency such as car repairs which are nonnegotiable, or for some of the frivolities I have come to expect like food and shelter for my children. The thing is, this credit card debt is not helping matters. This has come as a shock to me, as I'm sure it will to many of you as well. I will repeat: Credit card debt is not your friend. It's a hard truth to swallow.

We only have one vehicle, and that vehicle already has 200,000 miles on it. Even though we regularly maintenance it and it is in good working condition, I'm sure you can see where I am going with this. With Tim working two jobs, I almost never have access to the car. He works nights and weekends. I have the car available to me only a couple of nights a week, and Sunday, which is irrellevant. We need to have a plan for another car, or the scenario which is more fitting for my life: When we are finally able to afford a second car, our first will finally die, leaving us with- one car, again. Either way, we need a plan. Not that we haven't formulated plans in the past, it's just those frivolous luxeries we continue to indulge in, that is, food and shelter. The thing is, we already have a pretty tight budget. Not a lot of wiggle room, not a lot of extras. (Hence the holey, embarrasing clothing.) But we are making some serious strides and sacrifices to pay off those credit cards by this time next year so that we are in a position to get a used car. I'm not sure if it is possible, especially since our tax return this year is less than half what it has been in the past. The lowest one we have ever received; it will definitely not have quite the impact on this debt that I envisioned.

What you should take from this, the point I am trying to make is: you might get crap for gifts this year.

If at all.

And I will look super trashy.

 So, you know- status quo.

My Neighborhood

At 7:26 this morning my phone rang as I was making sure the kids had their shoes on to leave for the bus. Wondering who would be calling so early, I answered to hear the voice of a woman I know and like from the bus stop. She said: 'I was wonderin' if you wanted me to pick up Bella since it's pourin' outside.' (She has a sweet Southern accent.) I had no idea it was raining, but I would have figured it out quickly when we had to walk to the bus stop in the rain and then stand there for 10 minutes until the bus came, Fiona in tow. Even with an umbrella we would have been soaked without a car to wait in. I leapt at her offer, thrilled. I was so touched that she would remember us, that I didn't have a car, and that we would be waiting in the rain. If the situation were reversed I don't think I would have been so considerate. A small gesture, but I was moved. 

Such are the people in the South, in my neighborhood.

A couple of weeks ago the people on her block organized a block party and Rick invited us, even though we are kitty-corner to their street and not technically on their block. They rented a bounce house for the kids and set up a little station for them with toys and chalk.

I was smitten by these weathered, love-worn old wooden toys. I adore and greatly value handmade toys, and these were obviously well-made and well-loved. It turns out that Rick made them, which didn't surprise me. Everyone in the neighborhood knows Rick. He has an old beat up red truck that is often found all over the neighborhood, parked outside the people's homes he is working on at the time. He is a general all-around handyman and good guy.

 

He's a sweet grandpa who loves my children. Of course Fiona loves him, and seeks comfort and solace in his arms. During the party, I would look over and find Fiona starting to fuss. Before I could even make a decision of what to do, Rick was there sweeping her up in his arms. He proceeded to hold her and dance with her for about a half an hour. When I decided it was time to go, he walked us back to our house, holding Fiona the whole way.

After admiring the handiwork of his toys he took me into his basement to show me his enviable shop and the toys he makes. He skillfully makes trucks, cars, trains, and pendulum cradles- all without nails and screws, beautifully constructed with dowels. He makes all of these toys and goes to the hospital a couple of times a year where he donates them to the pediatric cancer patients. Somehow I was not surprised.

 

{Fiona cramping Truman's style}

Last weekend was our neighborhood Fall Festival. There were organized crafts, games, lunch and snacks. It was held down by the pool and the playground. I love that I can let my kids play as I watch from a distance. Fiona was wanting to swing (as always) and again, before I could even approach, some neighborhhood girls had placed her in the swing and were dutifully pushing her. They even know her by name. The same happened at the block party, when another girl picked Fiona up in the bounce house, jumping with her to keep her safe.

 Teenage girls volunteered to man most of the stations at the festival, helping the children with whatever they needed.

I love my neighborhood. I love that it feels like a community. I love that for the most part, people look out for each other. Most people wave to one another. Last summer our next door neighbor Dan mowed our lawn when we were in Utah for 3 weeks. He frequently edges our lawn around our house and mailbox because we don't have an edger. All of these things are done unrequested, and often without recognition. People have parties, we stop and talk on the street, people patiently let my girls pet their dogs, they know their neighbors. Whether it's the South, or North Carolina, or Charlotte, or just my neighborhood, I love it.

I am really grateful for my neighbors.

On My Mind

1. Bella was invited to a birthday party by a girl in her class who she really seems to like, and is on her bus. The problem is it's on a Sunday. Bah. Thus I had to break the news about not attending parties on the Sabbath. It did not go well. It did not go well very loudly and for a long time. It didn't go well when it was brought up again at dinner. I thought I had a great idea- we would throw a back-to-school party so that we could get to know everyone better and I could meet the parents of her would-be friends! How fun! The goody bags could be a collection of Bella's favorite things (to get to know her better) or school themed. My excitement was not matched however. Bella said it would be boring because our house is too small and Julia was going to have a bouncy house. All of my retorts sounded lame in my head: "But...I can make cute invitations..." Or "Ours will have a quaint handmade charm." "Ours will be creative." I don't think Bella and I value the same things when it comes to parties. We will likely never have a bouncy house. And now I regret extending the offer.

2. My girls had their first dentist appointments today. I know, Bella is 5 but she hasn't always had insurance. Anyway, let's move on. The good news is her teeth look good and she did not have any cavities. The bad news is she has a 40% overbite (which I never noticed) so he told me she will need braces. His exact words: "You have a college fund- now start an orthodontic fund." Huh. Actually we don't have a college fund. We have a 'Let's cross our fingers that we can afford the luxuries we have become accustomed to such as paying the mortgage and eating'- fund.

3. I've had a lot of anonymous comments lately and while I maintain that my blog is my journal for my uses only, I love commenters! I can't deny that it is flattering to know that people want to hear what you have to say. So read/stalk/comment on. Thanks for the support!

4. I chipped one of my front teeth from a bad habit of holding my sewing needles in my teeth while I make a knot. I am so disturbed by this. I have no insurance, so I can't have it fixed. I have tried in vain to smooth it out with my thumb nail but that has only succeeded in trimming my fingernail. Michelle reminded me that "Your teeth are not your tools" and I now wholeheartedly agree. The upside is that I have stopped using my teeth for anything other than chewing.

5. I am going to start Weight Watchers again with Linda. I know, Linda. I told her she better make up a back story so they don't all hate and ridicule her. I contend that she pose as a woman who was formerly morbidly obese and has an inspiring story of hard work and sacrifice, thus turning her from a target of abuse to a model Lifetime member.
6. Thanks for the pity Formspring questions. I have no illusion that they are anything but, however I'll take what I can get.