|If Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy|
I'll just keep on rolling . . .
I use to attempt to keep our home spotless.
On the few occasions I was able to come close to that goal---
it was because we were having company.
Then logic would rear its ugly head and speak to me, "since it is in this near perfect condition, with everything in its place, there is no reason for it to become messy ever again. All it will take is
for everyone to put things back in their proper places when they are through using them."
It may work for some, but not me, or my family. When I tried to keep our home spotless I became the stereotypical wicked witch! And . . .
It wasn't worth it!
Confession: I thought the kids were the main problem. The last one moved out 18 years ago and guess what?
I've probably already said this:
needs, and more often what-I-thought-were-needs, change over the years.
When I was first married I used to iron everything. When our first two were toddlers I even ironed their undershirts!
Confession: I "progressed" to the 'Askit Basket' where a piece of clothing got ironed when it was asked for. And then, every six months or so I would go through and remove those that no longer fit.
I was thrilled when synthetic no-iron clothes came on the scene. Later, when 100 percent cotton was again in vogue I accepted it when our, then older sons, assured me that the cotton was suppose to be worn wrinkled.
Recently a good friend introduced me to the hair straightening tool as the perfect pocket, front placket, and collar touch-er-upper. Hers is even leopard print!
Have priorities changed in our kitchen and other areas of our home?
I used to arrange the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies artistically in a wonderful huge apothecary jar. Honest.
Confession: Now I eat half the cookie dough before it is baked! And serve the rest directly from the wire cooling rack!
Dust if you must, but wouldn't it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need?
Dust if you must, but there's not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read;
Friends to cherish, and life to lead.
Dust if you must, but the world's out there
With the sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come around again.
Dust if you must, but bear in mind.
Old age will come and it's not kind.
And when you go (and go you must)
You, yourself, will make more dust.
Oops! I can't figure out why this part suddenly has a white background, and I can't find a way to change it.
We named our dust bunnies and Dave and I had competitions to see if we could hang a thread from a cobweb without breaking it.
Our first door ornament was a framed semi-official looking document "Notice: the dust in this home is a protective covering. You may touch it if necessary but please don't write in it. Thank you, The Management. Since we never dusted it we forgot about it even being there until we would answer the door---coming face-to-face with a laughing stranger.
Just recently I read a gentler, kinder and more positive spin on accumulating dust:
Remember, a house becomes a home when you can write "I love you" on the furniture.
Along the way we have established priorities----individually, as a couple, and as a family. We never thought of them in such a formal way but that's basically what they were.
Wednesday I'll tell you about some of them.
Until then, I am still Simply, Gail