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Category Archives: simplify

And then there was light in the living room…

 

After three days and nights of no lights, thanks to Hurricane Sandy, Bella rediscovers Edison’s magic.

 

Hey, what’s this?

Got to get closer.

This is a bright idea, but it’s hot.

 

I wonder how it works…

We all survived Sandy quite nicely. No trees were downed, no injuries incurred. Life slowed down while we watched Mother Nature make chaos. Books got read, we listened to the radio, burned a lot of candles, learned how to use a cast iron frying pan on the gas grill.  Physics and knitting got done… and we played with Bella a lot. We’re none the worst for the experience.

Photos courtesy of David

 

State of “Emerge & See”

10AM Monday Sandy

Even as I sit here waiting for Sandy to hit the Cape, and for the trees to do back bends, and the power to go out, there are some redeeming values to appreciate in this “State of Emergency”.

  1. I’m focused on what is essential and nothing trivial. I’m hoping for no injuries, no trees to fall into the house, and no loss of power. Today I’m not worried if I look good in these pants.
  2. Because I’m a tad anxious, I’ve surrounded myself with what makes me feel good: my David, the vest I’m knitting for me, socks for Molly, a hat to be started for Kate, and the new Mark Helprin book. Nothing extreme, just all good stuff.
  3. I’ve touched base with both kids and let them know all is well so far and that I’m crazy about them.

I’ve decided to stay calm and just ride out this storm. Not a bad choice considering all the options.

Get Smart

Technological advancements bring promise and problems. These two effects are often so intertwined that it’s challenging to separate them. I’m not a luddite; I am a “louddite”.

I love my Iphone, but smart phones can alienate users from the rest of their environment when they pump up the volume. It quickly and frequently becomes a case of TMI: too much information.

Today while walking the bike path along Vineyard Sound, one runner approached us from behind. It was not the patter of his feet or a shout out of “On your Left” that let us know he was approaching. A loud one-sided, totally absorbed dialogue—something about a tennis match and a local pub and a full-busted woman filled the otherwise quiet walk in the woods. No eye contact is made, no hello is said, just loud talk into a small black box jammed up against his ear. It’s small talk that’s too big.

The double-edged sword is that he’s invading my space while exposing his private life to anyone within ear-shot. He was indifferent to it all. It was too much information and noise for me–a completely disinterested bystander–and an impingement upon my personal space.

A similar situation occurs in the upscale grocery markets that I try so hard to avoid. The army of well-dressed-to-impress-women with the latest smart phone gadgets attached to their bodies invade and wipe out the store’s musaic. They park their carts in the middle of the aisle and broadcast what the nanny does to annoy them today… where their husband are traveling this week–and what purchases they just made at the mall.

The level of decibels is astounding and offensive. Nothing stops them. Don’t they realize that nobody cares about their inane conversation? Nobody’s impressed, and nobody wants to hear it. I realize that the grocery store is not expected to be a quiet, meditative place, but this broadcasting of what should be private news is obnoxious.

I have been tempted to stand next to one of these “Chatty Cathy’s”, take off my shoe, and start talking into it “Get Smart” style. Into my loafer, I would announce that I am thrilled about the great sex I had last night and that our investments doubled at the close of the market yesterday. I’d add that both of my children won Nobel Prizes and that my husband was Time’s Man of the Year.

I’d speak clearly and loudly into my shoe, make no eye contact, put my shoe back on my foot and push my cart down the produce aisle, while nudging hers to the side. I might ask “How do you like them apples?”

Swamp Magic

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Click and then double click on photos to follow the path.

When is a walk in the woods more like an adventure down a rabbit hole? Or maybe even more like Narnia or Where the Wild Things Are? That’s what the Atlantic White Cedar Swamp Trail offers me every single time I go there.

Extends to the end of the earth…

It’s a mile long escape along a simple walkway just slightly raised above a piece of conservation land along the sea in Wellfleet and adjoins the Marconi Station where the first transatlantic message was sent in 1903.  This trail is magic and one of my favorite places in the universe.

Where the wild things are…

The white cedar is the star, but no by means the only site to be seen. The cedars seem to shoot out of the earth and stretch to the sky, with vegetation twisted and gnarled at their feet. It is all very alive.

The bark texture is a work of art unto itself; a close up makes one wonder what’s in view. The light produces enchanting effects and is altered at every turn.

Animal, mineral or vegetable?

The ground cover is lush and varied. There’s always something new to observe.

Quiet and unassuming

Mother Nature doesn’t disappoint her audience.

Fern beds

A few wild asters

One is overwhelmed and at peace, simultaneously, in this place. It’s strangely wonderful.

Layers and layers of good stuff from the dirt to the sky

It’s like a trip to another world—all green and earthy—and at the end you have a majestic view of the National Seashore: the Atlantic Ocean in her full glory.

End of the trail, beginning of the sea

Hope to go back this weekend with the kids. It’s something to be shared.

Bookends

Often I absolutely hate to see a book come to an end. I savor the last fifty pages and sip them like fine wine. This happens more times than not, but this week it was “not”.

I read three books, all of which would have benefited from a haircut, two severe, one just a trim.

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern is an engaging flight of fancy. The reader leaves behind roots in reality and yields to the power of imagination. It’s a story about a fantastic circus where nothing is what it seems. Is the illusionist doing clever slight of hand tricks or are other forces at work? Yes, there’s a love story, but that isn’t the prime mover for me. The tension between what is possible versus the bizarre energizes the novel for me. Is it all a dream or would that be too simple? So many people told me they either hated the book or loved it. I liked most of it, with the exception of three or four chapters that seemed unnecessary and non-productive. The ending is not as interesting as I would have hoped, but the author succeeds in making me let go of rational expectations and that is an experience worth having.

It’s true that I tend to favor fiction over non-fiction, but two pieces of non-fiction made it to the top of my reading pile this week. Unstuff Your Life by Andrew J. Mellen caught my attention because of its focus on simplicity and minimalism. It is just shy of 400 pages and could well have afforded to unstuff itself. This is one of those books that would have made a superb two to three page magazine article. There are basically three messages:

1.     You are not your stuff. Separate yourself from your things and make rational decisions about them.

2.     One home for everything. That means everything has its place; put it there.

3.     Like with like. Group like objects together so you know where to find them.

I didn’t learn anything new from this book and should have known better to buy yet another book about decluttering my life.  Lesson learned; I’m donating the book. It will be out of the house tomorrow.

The second non-fiction book I tackled this week is The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg. The subtitle interested me: Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business. Duhigg explores how habits are formed and looks at the science, business and behavioral aspects of the subject. Examples are drawn from the research labs of MIT as well as case studies from around the country. He lets the reader see how cravings are turned into habits. This book bounces from neurological studies to animal research to case studies focusing on anecdotal stories then ricochets to management’s study of customer habits and back again. There is the constant reiteration of The Habit Loop which shows that habits consists of a cue that prompts a response, a routine that satisfies the prompt, and finally, a reward. The bottom line in converting bad habits to good ones calls for leaving the cue and the reward in place, while swapping out the routine to a healthier one. Duhigg shows that it is possible to create new habits and that even unsuspecting victims of memory loss can succeed at this task. Maybe there is hope for me.

I confess, I was fascinated by the analysis of how businesses collect customer habit information and use it to increase sales. I felt like a voyeur looking into the creation of Febreze—a product that was almost doomed for failure because customers were not making this product a habit. People who had smelly houses, didn’t recognized the smell after a while, and never felt the need to “refresh it” or get rid of the odor. The folks who did buy it saw it as a finishing touch to a room that was just tidied. I was likewise curious about how Alcoa revamped its entire company by making Workplace Safety its top priority. It retrained all levels of its operation to strive for no workplace injuries. Basically, new habits had to be formed from top to bottom. The process was eye-opening and yet another example of “doing well by doing good”.

The Power of Habit is a worthwhile read, but needs some serious skimming through the repetition and prolonged case studies. It is interesting to learn how business endeavors to get inside the consumer’s head (literally) in order to push for more sales, more business, more buying. The marketing research team at Target found a way to identify pregnant women at the very earliest stages of pregnancy in order to capture the $6800 of potential sales during the first year of a new born’s life. Big brother is alive and well—I should have already known that.

Classroom Rules For All Ages

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As a teacher I worked with students of all ages from elementary school, through middle and high school and finally at the university level. Without fail, on the first day of class I’d layout and discuss rules that would guide the semester.

Yes, there would be a listing of books to be read, topics to be covered, forms of writing to be explored, and problem solving techniques. Most importantly, however, was the attitude and process that would be in play.

As a child, I hated the “If you don’t know what you did wrong, I’m not going to tell you” approach—it was deadly. I’m a great fan of setting clearly defined expectations at the beginning. Although the wording might have changed over the years as I moved from teaching ten year-olds to twenty somethings, the messages were consistent.

Here’s the list of “rules” I have collected from various sources over almost forty years. I reviewed one by one on the first day of class… and kept the list posted in a highly visible spot all year long:

  1. Mistakes help us learn.
  2. You’re not supposed to understand everything the first time around. Critical thinking, pushing beyond the obvious, and perseverance are what count.
  3. Good students ask for help and for lots of feedback on their work.
  4. Consistent effort and effective strategies are the main determinants of success.
  5. Everyone is capable of high achievement, not just the fastest ones.
  6. If you try hard, learn from your errors, and persist, you can succeed.
  7. Mistakes are not signs of weakness. They’re data to use. They’re an opportunity for learning. Don’t be afraid of them.

I’m noticing that these are “rules” that I seem to use everyday, no matter what the venue. Whether it’s reading a challenging book like Jonathan Safran Foer’s new, unusual Tree of Codes or attempting a complicated sweater design or a sudoku puzzle, the rules help me push beyond chaos and get to something meaningful. Getting rid of the fear of failure and using our own learning experiences as a tool is one of the best lessons we can learn.

Best for Last

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Happy Feet

The last week of August at the beach is the ripest, juiciest of all. Maybe that’s because the end of the long hot days is near, and the nip is already in the night air. Today Woodneck Beach was absolutely perfect, more perfect than usual.

My Favorite Place on Earth

At five o’clock there were still a few families lingering and languishing in what was left of the day and the season. The sun did its sparkling twinkles on the water, and the waves tickled toes.

Stone Puzzle

The rocks always catch my eye. I love the mosaic they make when they’re flat on the beach. Every once in a while someone creates a sculpture—we all walk around it and don’t disturb the art. Of course, I filled a small cloth bag with shells, rocks and assorted treasures to scatter across the walkway to the house. Sea glass on a path to the front door is a welcomed surprise all year long.

Built It

Tomorrow we’ll head to the beach earlier, sit in our chairs, books in hand, camera in beach bag, maybe a few snacks and we’ll soak up the last of summer and look forward to fall.

Bored…Clean the Toilet!

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Monday’s Short List

Being bored was not permitted in my childhood household. Any version of or indication that the words “I’m bored” were to be voiced were met with an immediate command to grab a rag and wipe the baseboards or, worse yet, clean the bathrooms. So, I learned not to voice it and never to think it.

My days were always jam packed with things to do; some were required tasks dictated by firm looks, but most were fun adventures in my head just waiting to happen. I loved getting up early and riding my bike around the neighborhood, feeding Papa Louie’s chickens, reading a book under the big trees in the front lawn, climbing up into my tree house and looking straight up at the sky through the sassafras leaves…there was never a dull moment. None of these events are earthshaking or monumental, just little moments that collect to make a fine, non-boring day. I also learned the value of solitude. I gave myself time to myself. That was a lesson worth learning.

As I got older, my stack of books on my nightstand got taller. The local bookstore and library became favorite haunts.  I chose a bookstore as a client and teaching as a career so I could get even closer to the good stuff. A similar pattern erupted with fabric and yarn and cookware. There’s always something that wants to mix and hatch—and I’m quite excited about it all. Mind you, it’s not non-stop busyness—there’s ample quiet, downtime to recharge my creative batteries, daydream, and sleep!

Having an overflowing list of possibilities is how I function. Yes, I have to work to limit the overwhelm and chaos, but it’s worth it. I make lists, but have learned to keep them short. Three items on a small scrap of paper guide my daily adventures and give some modicum of focus. There’s no real obligation to complete the list or even to look at it… it’s just a suggestion. I do much better with suggestions rather than ultimatums. At age sixty, I enjoy “being in the moment” more than ever and let that govern my schedule.

When I go to a restaurant or any kind of food purveyor, I often ask… “What should I not leave today without trying.”  That opens new doors and lots of windows every time. Spotify gives me the chance to play “what’s new” and try to figure out if I want to hum the lyrics. Pinterest provides fresh visual images and interesting ideas from around the world. When I was in the classroom, every day was a new adventure with lots to think about during and afterwards. I appreciate the “rush” of pushing the boundaries of my comfort zone. Maybe that’s why I’m never bored… who knows.

This time of the year marks new beginnings for me. It’s probably because I always connect the end of summer with the beginning of the school year. It’s an opportunity to look at time spent, and look forward to how I want to spend it in the future. Assess, reevaluate, re-think, create anew. Now that I’m retired, this ritual is more rich and exciting. What do I want to accomplish this Fall? The challenge is to keep the list short and never boring:

1.    Design and create 25% of my wardrobe by hand.

2.   Exercise every day (oh bullshit… maybe every other day)

3.   Read a book a week. Yes!

4.   Play in the garden.

5.    Waste less time on the internet.

That’s it. I’d love to hear how you broach Fall and any issues with boredom. Please feel free to leave a comment.

Half Way to 120 Years Old

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This week I turn 60 years old—I like to think of it as half way to 120. I’ve never been the type to fret about birthdays or aging. There’s so much I’ve got left to do as long as I’m here. That’s why I like to think about it as half way to 120.

First on my list is to continue to take good care of myself. Self-care has never been my forte. This past year it has been a priority, and I’m getting better at eating healthy, exercising and de-stressing. Being at the Cape has been a help; the world moves slower here, and I take time to do things that are good for me. There will be time to enjoy my hubby and the kids. The girls are all grown up, and they’re so much fun to be with. I’m a lucky lady.

The community here is a wonderful mixture of artists, intellectually curious minds, and generally sincere, good folks. My book group, knitting circle and to-be-formed spinning group bring out the best in me. So does a visit to the Farmer’s Market and the Falmouth Library. Having dinner at the Quarterdeck with Whitney as our all time, fabulous waitress is a regular date.

There are books to be read, writing to be done, creative projects to hatch, and gardening to tend. I promise not to get old and grumpy. There will be no complaining about the weather or saggy skin or a big ass. I will not dye my hair shoe-polish brown or wear orange lipstick. There will also be no bitching about stuff on television. I won’t be undergoing any plastic surgery or liposuction, but I will be eating more veggies. I will spend less time on the internet and more time daydreaming.

I’ll design and create most of my own clothes—and actually wear them. There will be fewer pieces in my closet, but they will be good looking and well-loved. There will be shelves with empty space on them and cupboards with room to spare. I’ll have less stuff, more time, less agita, more creativity and no headaches. There will be fewer rules and more coloring outside of the lines. That’s what turning half way to 120 will be for me. Oh, yes, there will be cake!

Knob Heaven

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One spot close to us in many ways is The Knob, in Quisset. It’s a five minute drive to a half hour meandering walk through forest and seacoast paths.  It’s quiet and peaceful, yet adventurous and exhilarating.

My Imaginary Rabbit Hole

What I love best are the unexpected surprises that pop up every few minutes: a bird singing, a bunch of Queen Ann’s lace and beach plums swinging in the breeze, the huge, strong rocks with jagged as well as worn down edges that trim the water’s edge. Trees and vines grow like lattice work, making a covered walkway with blue sky peaking through. There’s always something to catch the eye and inspire.

No Rock Jumping, this time.

We’ve been taking this “walk by the woods by the sea” for more than 25 years. Today we remembered the tree swing that both girls loved so much—it has been taken down and Mother Nature has taken over with vines and tall grass—beautiful, but you can’t swing on them. David mentioned how he often carried Molly on his shoulders when she was small; she had the best view of all. I remember my Dad taking this walk, loving it, even when he no longer remembered where he was going. And once we packed a lunch and spent the day at the beach, noticing lots of unusual sea glass that was just waiting for us on this often unvisited beach.

The Knob

Treasures, lots of treasures, are here. The end of this deliciously long, windy path is  “The Knob”. It’s a rocky protrusion into the bay, covered with flat stones and provides a 360 degree view of beauty. Today Buzzard’s Bay is dotted with boats, and the sky has absolutely perfectly shaped white, puffy clouds. The sea breezes are always a tad stronger up there, and the bay is a bit bluer. At the edge I sense the power and strength of what nature has wrought. I feel iddy bitty and such a small part of a big whole—and it feels good.

Knob View

Today’s visit is part of David’s birthday weekend celebrations. The Knob is his kind of place and our kind of celebration.  We’ll be back soon with a picnic dinner and a good bottle of wine to watch the sunset.  It doesn’t get much better than that.

He who does not like to be photographed…

Happy Birthday, Schotzi!!!