Unabashed Packrat

I’ve been a packrat since my earliest childhood–saving everything, generally for the sake of “projects”. I could throw away those little boxes that the decongestant comes in, but who knows? I might need them for a project someday. I could throw away those panty hose with runs–but there are lots of projects that could use them. So I keep almost anything.

I’ve started to get a little better about throwing things away–pantyhose, for example. I’ve discovered that I don’t really end up using the pantyhose for anything. It just sits in my drawer making me have to sort through everything to find a pair without runs.

Other things, though, are still hard. I save the boxes the decongestant comes in–and recently used six of them to create a divided pencil holder/storage thing for my bookends (that I made from corrugated cardboard salvaged from work). I save toilet paper tubes–and use them to keep stray cords manageable–or to hold the plastic sacks that I get from Walmart. I stuff the sacks into the toilet paper tube and drop the whole tube into the bottom of my trash can. It keeps the sacks contained and available to use as trash can liners whenever I take out the trash.

And then there are the things that I go out of my way to collect. I do a fair bit of laminating at work, and at the top of each sheet of lamination is a 10×30 inch strip of clear plastic that doesn’t have anything inside of it. I felt loathe to throw it away–especially when I noted its similarity to transparencies. I use transparencies on occasion when I’m scrapbooking, but they’re pretty expensive to use regularly. This on the other hand…it’s free, and I’d throw it away otherwise.

So I have a paper bag full of laminating waste.

I haven’t done much scrapbooking since I gathered it, so it’s just been sitting in my closet. I considered throwing it away, but decided not to–after all, you just never know when it might come in handy.

Then recently, I’ve been reading Marla Cilley’s (the FlyLady) book Sink Reflections. She talks about her “Control Journal” inside and recommends that readers make one of their own using a 8.5×11 three ring binder. She talks about putting your routines inside page protectors so that you can use a dry erase marker to mark off each step as you complete it. I like the idea, but abhor the thought of using that large of a notebook for my Control Journal. I prefer using half sheet notebooks for anything that I’m going to be carrying around with me regularly. Besides which, my planner (which I will begin using again when life demands–when I get back to being a student after my brief respite into the leisurely life of the working woman ;-P) uses a half sheet, and it’s much easier to let everything be consistent.

But, as far as I know, there aren’t page protectors for half sheet binders. Or if there are, they’re bound to be pretty expensive. As I puzzled over this issue, the thought struck me–“Why don’t you make your own using the laminating stuff? Brilliant idea.

So I cut the laminating stuff into 8.5×11 sheets, folded them in half and punched three holes along the open edge. There you have it–page protectors for half sheets. At no cost.

I begin to think that being a packrat really does pay off.


Built in Barometer

Yesterday was a beautiful day, with blue skies, sun shining, just warm enough, with a brisk breeze but no humidity. This morning, I woke up to a gray sky

and muggy, unmoving air. But was I surprised? Of course not. I knew yesterday that the weather was changing–due to my nifty built in barometer.

I discovered the barometer a couple of weeks ago when I had to go home from work because I was feeling ill. I couldn’t explain why I felt so awful–or exactly what it was like–but I felt awful. My head hurt and my ears were ringing and the rest of me just felt queer.

I went home and went to sleep. The next morning, I was just fine–but a huge storm system had rolled into town.

Realization began to dawn. I started to watch to see if a pattern would emerge. And emerge it did. Before any change in the weather, my sinuses and ears would get plugged–creating a massive headache. My allergy medicine would seem to stop working after only four hours or so. After four hours to a day of discomfort, the symptoms would disappear and I’d be just fine.

It makes sense, if you choose to think about it. Due to allergies and perhaps something more, my sinuses are continually plugged–and my eardrums have perpetual pockets of fluid surrounding them. So, when the pressure outside changes, it takes a long time to equalize the pressure inside my sinuses and ears. Thus, I feel sort of like you do when you’re gaining or losing altitude in an airplane. My ears get that really full feeling, and my head starts aching. Only since I have so much gunk in my head, chewing gum or yawning doesn’t really help. I’ve just got to wait it out.

I used to want to build my own barometer, but I never seemed to get the supplies I needed. (Someone was always throwing away my trash stash before I had everything together! Grrr…) Recently, my younger sister made herself a barometer–I was pretty covetous until I realized that mine is infinitely superior to hers. She has to remember to look at hers in order to figure out what’s going on with the pressure. Mine has auto-alerts!


Wobbling off Center

Have you ever had a slow leak in a tire of your car–one that you didn’t notice until it was a full-blown disaster? Have you ever worked really hard to finish a project–only to realize that you’d missed a vital piece of information about the assignment?

That’s sort of how I’ve been feeling lately. Like I’ve been going about my daily life, adjusted to the routine, not realizing how out of whack my life is becoming.

I’ve grown comfortable in my life as a “working woman, a lady of leisure”. I’ve enjoyed quilting and keeping my house clean and piddling with this hobby and that.

But a few weeks ago, something started niggling in my mind, “Something’s wrong. You’re wobbling. I think you might be a bit off-center.” And I was, but I couldn’t figure out how to get back on to center.

I was doing my devotions like normal. I was going to church. I was praying when I thought to. But I wasn’t practicing the presence of God. I wasn’t living with an awareness of His kingdom. I was just blah.

And I couldn’t seem to break it. I tried to conjure emotion and bring things onto center–and only got more depressed about being off center.

I started to ask people to pray for me–that I would desire God above all else, that I would be aware of His presence, just… I didn’t know what I wanted, but I wanted something to change. I didn’t want to just be doing–I wanted to be truly living.

At our disciplemaking class at church on Monday, we heard a speaker talk about Paul’s exclamation: “Yet indeed I count all things as loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that I may gain Christ….that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death…”

We were speaking about the vision of a disciple-maker–and I had to say that I don’t feel that I have it. I don’t have that vision to know Christ and to make Him known. I want to have it. But I don’t have it. Vision is more than just words–it’s seeing. And when I walk throughout my day, I don’t have that vision “to know Christ and to make Him known” in front of my eyes. I just don’t. We prayed about it that evening.

I picked up a book at the library earlier that day on a whim–Tony Evans’s “Our God is Awesome.” I started reading Tuesday morning. The first chapter resonated with everything I’d been experiencing. Evans writes: “Knowing who HE is defines who WE are….To know God is to have Him rub off on you, to enter into relationship with God so that who He is influences who you are….The knowledge of God affects your self-interpretation….Unless the knowledge of God has changed you, you don’t know Him….Life can never be what it was intended to be for you or me unless that life consists of God’s life being lived out in us.

That was it. The dull ache, the sense that something was off balance, that somehow this wasn’t enough–this is what it was saying. Life isn’t LIFE until I’m walking in intimacy with Christ. And somehow, over the course of my leisurely semester off, I lost that intimacy with Christ. I was thirsty for relationship with Him–but I didn’t recognize the thirst for what it was–and I kept drinking other things.

Physically, I’ve been dehydrated for a long time–so much so that I experience blackouts because I don’t have enough blood volume to get oxygen to my brain. Since learning this in January, I’ve had to retrain myself in regard to my thirst cues. I had to learn to listen to them–and get something to drink when my body was thirsty. An orange isn’t sufficient. Gum might “wet my whistle” but it won’t make me more alive. The only thing that will solve my blackouts is water.

I’m coming to see that I’ve also become spiritually dehydrated–blacking out because I’m not receiving proper nourishment. But instead of recognizing the thirst and drinking from the fount of living water, I popped some gum and continued my day to day activities. And just like I’ve had to retrain myself to listen to and obey my thirst signals, I’m going to have to retrain myself to listen to and heed my spirit–that cries out for intimacy with Christ.

“I am thirsty.” I tell myself whenever I experience thirst. “I will get a drink by [insert reasonable amount of time to break away from my current activity].”

Yesterday and today, I’ve started to remind myself. “You are thirsty. You need to be in relationship with God.” I’ve been spending more time in the Word, singing worship songs during work, praying over things instead of worrying over them. But mostly, I’ve just started realizing that I’m thirsty–“I want to know [Christ] and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death…” I want to have God rub off on me, so that who He is influences who I am.

I may not be going much of anywhere quite yet–but I feel as though I’m coming back to center–back to Christ, who is the center of it all.


Miracle at the Department of Motor Vehicles

Today, I went to get Jack his new tags. The postcard from the DMV has been sitting on my desk, and then on my floor for over a month–and I realized yesterday that I had only two days to finish it out.

So I put “car registration” on my to-do list for today–and deliberately made the rest of the list short.

After all, a trip to the DMV generally takes about an hour–and the majority of that is spent between the ropes of the queue. I left by 10:15–cutting it a bit close, I thought, since I had a lunch date with my dad at 11:30.

But when I got to the DMV, I discovered that the line was…nonexistent. It took me about 15 seconds to pass through the empty ropes, and less than two minutes to get my registration updated–and that was with changing my address and not having my check already written!

It seems small to call it a miracle–but it wasn’t. It was a God-thing through and through. The lack of a line meant that I was able to drop by Wagey Drug and visit with a couple of friends who work there. It meant I was able to “run into” the mother and grandmother of a girl I went to Bible school with. I “chanced” upon a former coworker and was able to have a nice little conversation with her. And I got to my lunch date early–allowing me and my dad to enjoy a leisurely meal without having to cut off our conversation in the middle because I had to get to work!

Does God care about the little details of our lives? I’m convinced He does. Searching for a reason to worship God? Worship Him because He sees the big picture, but still takes the time to do detail work.


Shopping in my sister’s closet

Just this morning, as I was deciding on what to wear, I thought that it had been a long time since I bought some new clothes.

I contemplated going shopping–but I’m sure glad I didn’t follow through. Because this evening when I got home from Bible Study, my sister had a whole pile of clothes for me to try on. She’d been cleaning out her closet and was offering me a look before she gave them away.

If I’d have gone shopping, I probably would have purchased one to five items and spent 10-50 dollars. As it was, I didn’t spend a dime–and gained thirteen shirts, one dress, five skirts, two pairs of slacks, two camisoles, and a bathing suit. I challenge even the best garage saler or used store shopper to top that!

Thanks, Anna!


600 days into a massive project

600 days ago, on September 5, 2006, I embarked on a massive project–I was going to read every book in Eiseley Library (all except the ones I don’t read.)

I have faithfully logged each book in my personal book file “A catalogue of all I’ve read since September 5, 2006” and periodically taken note of my progress. As of today, my progress log reads:

TOTALS as of 4-27-2008 (600 days)
Juvenile Picture 51
Juvenile, First Read 24
Juvenile, Chapter 37
Juvenile Fiction 138
Juvenile Nonfiction 43
Young Adult 1
Juvenile DVD 14
Juvenile Video 1
Fiction 159
Nonfiction 297
Audio Cassette 2
Audio CD 32
DVD 21
Periodicals 30
Total 850 books
1.42 books per day

Of course, you’ve noted that I’m “reading” audio cassettes and cds, periodicals, and DVDs. Does that really count? And what about children’s picture books. Do they count either? You could say I’m inflating my numbers by including such in my counts.

And you’re probably right. But since this is MY goal, I have the right to make the rules. I have made them, and I’m rather strict about keeping them–in a very legalistic fashion. This particular goal certainly brings a new realization to the teaching that legalism is really a way to make excuses for not following the heart of the law. After all, I’m reading “every book in Eiseley library” (except the ones I don’t read.) The exception makes the original statement untrue–but the rules make it all seem okay.

My Rules

  1. I will NOT read paperback romances (or such that belong to the genre my father refers to as “Harlequins”)
  2. I will NOT read books classified by the library as mysteries or science fiction.
  3. If, after reading 50 pages of a book, I find myself unwilling to finish it, I MAY quit, considering that book as read.
  4. I MAY consciously decide not to read a particular book or section of books after deciding that they are either a worthless waste of time or that reading them would be spiritually or emotionally unhealthy. (Such as I have done with the rest of Meg Cabot’s books.)
  5. After reading every book the library owns by a particular author or in a particular Dewey Decimal classification, I MAY “close out” that author or classification. I am no longer obligated to read any books by that author or in that classification that are acquired by the library after I have “closed” the section “out”. (Such as I have with Lori Wick–meaning I haven’t read “Cassidy” or any of her books written after that one.)
  6. I am only required to “read” audio cds that differ significantly from the written book or are an unique piece of art in and of themselves. (Thus I have listened to several productions of Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar” but have not even once listened to an audio book of Jane Austen’s “Persuasion.”)
  7. In order to count a book primarily consisting of recipes or projects as having been read, I must have completed at least one project from within it. (Thus my separate file of quilting projects I’d like to do sometime–with the book they came from and a photo of the project for easy reference.)

This project is both liberating and constraining.

It has been the impetus for reading many books that I otherwise may not have read–Realizing that I’d have to read all of the books contained in “The Book of Great Books” anyway, I figured I’d join my cousin in reading them through. (So far, since deciding to join that project earlier this month, I have read “For Whom the Bell Tolls” and “The House of Seven Gables”, as well as re-reading “The Scarlet Letter” and “Candide”.)

This project has also encouraged me to try new things with quilting–such as beginning to make baby quilts for each pregnant woman of my acquaintance.

I’ve forced myself through 50 pages of some books–only to discover that pages 51 to 179 weren’t really that bad. And sometimes I’ve forced myself through 50 pages and thanked Nancy Pearl, the author of “Book Lust”, for giving me permission to put a book down after 50 pages.

I’ve looked at books and then decided not to read them–because they weren’t a part of Eiseley’s collection. I’ve looked at books and decided they really were worth reading–even though they weren’t part of Eiseley’s collection.

I’ve eagerly worked my way through an entire author just so I could get that author over with–and I’ve worked my way through an author only to be sorrowful that I was done, and wouldn’t ever HAVE to read that author again. I’ve read a few books from authors I’d already “closed out”–because I’d so fallen in love with the author’s style. I’ve also taken authors or categories slowly–thinking I have plenty of time to read what I’m not interested in–might as well enjoy whatever strikes my fancy now.

I was born to be a project person–I’ve always loved projects, goals, unattainable flights of fancy. And this one, for the last 600 days, has served me well.


The Cyber-Stalker Speaks

I’ve been a cyber-stalker for much of my online life–reading blogs but never commenting, visiting sites and never leaving any sign of my existence. Even when logging on to a forum is required to read it–I log on, read it, and leave. I never post.

For the last six months or so, I’ve been following the Bergeron family daily. I’ve delighted in reading about their lives and enjoyed the blissful escape into large family life–a life so familiar compared to the mundane oddity of the lives of those who surround me. Reading regular books and blogs, hearing about “normal” people’s lives–I love all of that, but most of it is an alien landscape for me. I don’t know the trials and delights of carpooling to school–unless you count squishing a tenth or eleventh into the family van for a trip to church. I don’t understand “boredom” or “playdates”. So, Renee’s family gives me a touch of home.

I enjoy reading bakersdozen so much that I also enjoy sharing Renee’s anecdotes with my friends. A friend and I will be quilting together and I’ll say “So, the lady whose blog I read…” and I’ll share a funny story from a recent post. My friends and family know all sorts of information about Renee’s children, her systems of organization, her scrapbooking.

But throughout all of this, I have never bothered to comment or e-mail, or otherwise let it be known that I am reading. What could I add anyway?

Well–the long silence has been broken–the cyber-stalker has spoken. I have decided to be polite and make my presence known. So I posted a comment.


Taken as Tacit Approval?

Today at work, we had a luau–or more specifically, we assisted the HSS RA’s in hosting a luau. Staff were invited to wear a Hawaiian print or otherwise brightly colored outfit to work.

What I didn’t mention was why we (or more specifically, the HSS RA’s) were giving this luau. The luau was named the “Latex Luau”–it was a celebration of safe sex.

Those of you who know me, know that I am not at all a proponent of safe sex. In fact, I remember declaring in a conversation with a coworker during one of my first weeks on the job that “I’ll keep my vagina to myself, thank you very much.” The best way, and only way to practice “safe sex” is by abstaining from sex until a mutually monogamous relationship made permanent by a marriage license. Period.

So when two values clash–when I am offered a choice of wearing a brightly colored dress at work or wearing my uniform as a conscientious objector–which do I choose? I chose to wear my bright orange 70’s tropical print dress.

Me in Tropical Dress

And what I’m wondering is–have I compromised my values or weakened my testimony by wearing a dress that could be taken as tacit approval of the “safe sex” message?


I’M MOVING!!!!

“Where to?” I hear you asking. “Didn’t you just get into the internship you wanted–in Lincoln? Why would you move?”

Calm down–you’re right. I did get into the internship I wanted, in Lincoln–which means I won’t have to move from the wonderful house I currently rent. Instead, I’m moving out of my craft room and completely into my bedroom.

You see, my sister and I have long desired that our home could be a place of ministry–and we both want to be wise with the resources God has given us. So, we have decided to find another roommate–someone who would be able to use my current craft room. That will enable us to stay here and serve a couple of Anna’s classmates who have only a few rotations here in Lincoln–just long enough to need a place to live, just short enough that it’s not feasible to keep an apartment of their own.

So Anna will be cleaning out her room and adding a second bed for when her classmates are in town, and I’m moving entirely into my bedroom.

I’m glad I’ll have a while to work on it though–I have tons of stuff. But I’m pretty pleased with my initial desk setup. Check it out:

Picture of bedroom

I know: the desk is pretty bare (I moved it right before work, okay?), there are books under the computer desk (I pulled it from the trash a while back and part of the shelf underneath is broken), the corner is bare (I’m planning on making a little shelf for that space), there’s a lot of exposed cardboard about (I’ve got some contact paper to cover it with–just be patient), and there’s junk on the floor in the foreground (It was a snap decision to start moving today–and I didn’t really bother to clean anything before I moved it.)–but even so, I think it has potential.


The Principle of Patience

How often do you and I decide that we need something and run out immediately to buy it–only to discover that we already had something that could have fit the bill or that the same item went on sale only a week later? I can’t say how often I’ve done so. Or how often I’ve seen something neat at the store and bought it on the spot–only to arrive home to find that it doesn’t fit, or I have a similar one already, or my sister (and roommate) just bought the same thing.

We’ve been studying finances at church in the last few weeks, and the one thing that has most impressed me has been the practical idea of just waiting before making a purchase. I’m choosing to call it the principle of patience. It’s choosing to say, “I won’t die if I don’t get this right now. How about I just sit on it for a week before making the decision to purchase it?”

The principle of patience has served me well in the past:

When I made my sink caddy earlier this month, I had intended to purchase one but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Then I discovered that I could make one for a lot cheaper.

I found a neat gravity feed can rack

at the Container Store and fell in love with it. I searched our local discount stores and couldn’t find one–so, rather than purchase one online, I made one from cardboard and contact paper for a fraction of the price.

cardboard can rack

My mattress is a bit old and has a sunk-in center–such that I’m constantly being poked by the springs when I’m trying to get to sleep. I’ve been contemplating buying a new mattress, or at least a foam mattress topper. Then, last night, I had an “Eureka!” moment. It just so happens that we have a futon mattress that we’re not currently using–a relatively thin mattress. And it just so happens that I can place that mattress right on top of mine and just do the bed up on top of it–and it works great! I can have a comfortable night of sleep.

I could have searched for a “priceless” (i.e. very expensive after interest) experience using Mastercard–or I can practice a truly priceless principle: Patience. And patience, unlike Mastercard, generally pays YOU in the end.