My chemical romance

9/30/09 Nine bottles of vile chemicals, properly recycled at a cost of $40

Today marks the end of month two of the Downsizing Challenge. I'm one-sixth of the way through the year. (And more than three-quarters of the way through the stuff I want to get rid of - yikes!)

To mark this day, I decided to undertake a doozy. When we moved into this house almost exactly six years ago, the thoughtful Zipkin family left us a gift: a whole bunch of antifreeze and pool chemicals, much of it half-buried in the woods. Thanks, folks, we appreciate it.

Unsurprisingly, this stuff is not easy to get rid of. In fact, it took quite a bit of research and searching to figure out the place I was supposed to take it. The repository (at least temporarily) for such goodies is an outfit in South Portland called Clean Harbors Environmental Services. In addition to the time and gas one must burn to get down there, they charge $6.50 per gallon to take most anything yucky.

The guy cut me a deal by only charging me $40.

In my brief conversation with him, I learned that Clean Harbors is a serious operation. I think he said that they have facilities in fourteen countries, and it's pretty clear that they'll take almost anything off your hands. He emphasized that EVERYTHING gets recycled, and, to illustrate his point, he listed off a whole bunch stuff (most with the word "acid" in them) that I'd never even heard of. The Zipkins' - uh, I mean my - chemicals would be heading to Texas, where they would be broken down and, somehow, reused. Miraculous, really.

What's not so miraculous is that we've gotten ourselves into this situation where we have to pay more to get rid of chemicals than it costs to buy them. At $6.50 a gallon and an hour's worth of driving, I tend to suspect that a whole lot of people are going to decide that proper disposal is out of reach.

I'll even admit that the idea of dumping the crap in the woods crossed my mind. More than once.

But, my better nature prevailed, and it was a glorious sight to drive away from those bottles after tripping over them for six years.

Of course, for me, $40 was an acceptable price, swept up, as I am, in this year-long journey. Still, it gives me pause to think that doing the right thing is both so time-consuming and expensive. Plus, I know that other equally nasty liquids lurk in my basement.

I better start saving up.

A wrinkle in time

9/29/09 Dress shirt, trashed

Follow this line of thinking: A stained shirt, discarded, demonstrates how the Downsizing Challenge is giving me new eyes on the world. Here's my reasoning:

The shirts and pants in my closet fall into two categories:

1) The shirts and pants I wear all the time. Those are the no-iron, no-wrinkle clothes.

2) The shirts and pants I don't wear. Those need to be ironed.

The in-need-of-ironing clothes are just as good as the other ones, they are just too wrinkly to wear. Since I have far more important things to do than iron, they just hang there, taking up half the space.

Now, in the days before downsizing, I accepted this as a fact of life. Each morning I opened the closet and, deep in the back of my mind, thought "Hmmm, can't wear those, they aren't ironed. But, they are perfectly good, so I should just leave them there. Now, let me put on that shirt I've already worn twice this week. At least it's wrinkle free!"

But, sixty days into the challenge, my eyes are now seeing things differently. Suddenly, perfectly good clothes that I don't wear aren't so perfectly good. If I'm not going to use them, I should get rid of them.

This morning, I put on one of those shirts I never wear. No, I didn't iron it first, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. If it was too good to get rid of, then I better use it.

It turns out it wasn't too good to get rid of.

Just before I headed out the door, I glanced in the mirror and realized that there was a huge stain on the pocket. A minute later it was in the garbage and I was back to a wrinkle-free shirt.

For a year, that shirt hung in my closet, and it likely would have stayed there for another year. I held onto it only because it had become invisible. Well, now my eyes have been opened. All those wrinkled clothes better watch out.

Give the drawer a job

9/28/09 Drawer full of random stuff, recycled, trashed, or moved elsewhere

The lines between downsizing and organizing are blurry. As I travel along this journey, I realize that the need to get rid of excess clutter is interwoven with the need to organize those things that need to stay around. In the process of getting rid of things, I am also putting other things in order.

This junk drawer in our kitchen is a perfect example. For six years, it has served no clear purpose, other than housing random stuff we don't want to bother putting anywhere else. We didn't have any reason to save much of the stuff (I stopped counting all the random papers I recycled and the junk I tossed into the trash), and the things that we wanted to save didn't belong in there.

As I tackled this drawer, I realized our fatal misstep. For six years, we've looked at the stuff in it and asked ourselves, "Where should this go? Where do we put this? Should we save this?"

When we didn't have an answer, we tossed it into the drawer.

Tonight, I had an epiphany. Rather than ask questions about the stuff in the drawer, we need to tell the drawer what its job is. My theory is that once the drawer has a purpose, we'll stop putting random stuff into it.

It took about a minute to give the drawer a new identify. Goodbye, Junk Drawer. Hello, Tea Drawer.

Joanna, true to her British roots, loves tea. We used to have it in a number of random places around the kitchen. Now, we've got it organized and in one place. As an added bonus, one of the small drawers that used to house some of the tea now can store the vitamins that used to clutter the windowsill over the sink.

An hour ago, we had a junk drawer, a tea drawer that only held half of our tea, and a window sill cluttered with vitamins. Now, we have a clean windowsill, a specific place for all our vitamins, and another spot for all the tea.

In the process, a bunch of stuff we shouldn't have been saving got trashed or recycled. That was a bonus. But, the items that were downsized were just a small part of the story.

The bigger benefit is that a little bit of downsizing can lead to a whole lot of organizing. And I love it when things get organized.

Watered down

9/27/09 A bunch of worn out pool equipment (vacuum hose, head & skimmer attachment; torn leaf skimmer; two leaky inflatable pool loungers), trashed

As a child, I thought having a swimming pool would be just about the coolest thing ever.

Boy, was I wrong.

According to the Maine state government web site (do we trust them?), Maine has 6,000 lakes and ponds and a coastline that stretches 3,500 miles. (I also learned on the state's site that Maine's state fossil is Pertica quadrifaria. Heh, who knew?)

Access to recreational water is not in a problem here. There's water everywhere. Why build and maintain a pool when you can have the real stuff for free? To paraphrase the old saying about boats, a pool is a hole in the ground into which one pours money.

Add to that the wisdom in this old joke:

Did you know that Maine has two seasons? Winter and the 4th of July.

There just aren't that many days when I wake up and say to myself, "Ah, it's going to be eighty and sunny all day. Think I'll frolic in the pool."

Check out this graph of Portland temperatures. We have as many months where the average cold temperature is BELOW 20 degrees as we do months when the average high is over 70. This is not a tropical climate, folks.

And, finally, don't get me started on the sheer time and energy it takes to maintain a pool. If you compare the hours I spend in the pool with the hours I spend walking around it trying to keep the water clear, the recreational side of the equation would come up very short. VERY SHORT. The only upside of the maintenance work is that I am now an amateur plumber, electrician, and chemist.

So, to summarize:

1) Pools are expensive.
2) Pools are hard work.
3) Maine is second only to Siberia as the most foolish place to have a pool.
4) I have a pool.

Now, don't get me wrong, I like the water. I spent my childhood playing in Alamoosook Lake, my mom had me in swimming lessons for years, and in middle and high school I even swam competitively (well, not very competitively) for a YMCA team. But, when we eventually move from this wonderful home, I will not miss that pool one bit.

I spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening closing the pool for the winter. Could have done it a month ago, since nobody's been in since August, but I didn't have the requisite six hours to spare to get the job done earlier. This morning, I capped off the process by lugging some old pool stuff that we weren't using anymore to the dump.

I suppose I could have tried to give those things away on craigslist, but I wasn't up to the work. The pool sapped the life out of me.

Double down

9/26/09 Old dresser, given away on Craigslist; Star Wars Snowspeeder model, sold on ebay for 99 cents

I really need to get better at coordinating this downsizing effort. Some days I'm scrambling to get rid of anything before the clock strikes twelve. Then, today comes along and two items zip out the door. That's frustrating, since I don't get extra credit for doubling up on a day.

It's becoming increasingly obvious that the trickiest part of downsizing is spacing things out every twenty-four hours. One of my techniques has been to try to put up things on ebay one day at a time, so two things never sell on the same day. However, sometimes the downsizing bug hits me and I've got to throw something up on Craigslist.

When all these tracks of internet commerce converge, I get into fender-benders.

I couldn't put off mailing the Star Wars snowspeeder model that I sold on ebay, since speedy delivery equals positive feedback. (And positive feedback is the lifeblood of successful ebay selling.) So, I thought about telling the guy who wanted the free dresser that he couldn't pick it up until Sunday, but that seemed silly. His plan was to paint it up for his daughter's room. Was I going to make up excuses and delay her from getting her new bureau just to spead out the downsizes? Honestly, I thought about it.

But, my better nature prevailed. A friendly Sox fan named John picked up the dresser this afternoon, and (thanks to the almighty iPhone) Joanna and I located a convenient post office to mail the snowspeeder model while we did errands in Portland. Two for one, certainly not the way I planned it.

Gotta get these things mapped out better in the future.

Trooper

9/25/09 Three Star Wars Snowtrooper action figures, sold on ebay for $15.01

I am selling my childhood, one action figure at a time.

Community song

9/24/09 Fourteen music CDs, donated to Casco Public Library

Every day, all across the country, quiet events capture the gentle spirit of communities. Today, a small group gathered at the Casco Public Library to dedicate the John R. Bennett Memorial Music Collection. Such things go unnoticed by the masses, but their value is beyond measure. Indeed, these unheralded acts of celebration and remembrance give a community its heart.

John was a library patron and volunteer (often taking the returnable bottles to the redemption center). He unexpectedly passed away in July, leaving the kind of gap that falls between the weaves in the fabric of every town.

John's friends and family honored his love of music (he was a former musician) by donating money to the library to create a collection of essential albums from a wide range of genres. This is like manna from Heaven for our librarian, Wes, a musician himself. Wes has overseen the purchasing of cornerstone CDs, and has his sights set on building the collection into something truly special.

Indeed, I'm sure that music collection would be music to John's ears.

Advance scout

9/23/09 Two sleeping bags, donated to Boy Scout Troop 130

A few days ago, the librarian at my school asked me if I'd like to buy some popcorn to support her son's Boy Scout troop. Now, as an employee at a public school, I have to have a clear policy on fundraisers. I get asked all the time to buy stuff, and if I always did (as some teachers actually do) I'd need to take out a second mortgage just to cover the costs. I'm more of a hard-liner, and my standard response is a polite, "No thanks."

However, in the process of rejecting the librarian's offer, I did learn that her son is working towards becoming an Eagle Scout, which impressed me. And, since my mind never wanders far from the Downsizing Challenge, I started to wonder how I could help out the Scouts without parting from any of my beloved cash or acquiring and more corn products. (For a review of my thoughts on corn, click HERE.)

It didn't take my little brain long to make the obvious connection between my excess camping equipment and the world's most famous camping organization. I suggested that I had two sleeping bags I'd happily part with, and the deal was done.

Turns out that Troop 130 has a rather impressive history, teaching the boys of South Paris to be physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight for seventy-five years. Apparently, they are the third oldest troop in Maine.

The scouts pledge to help other people at all times. Hopefully, these sleeping bags might help one or two of them.

Hallmark Moment-os

9/22/09 One hundred twenty-one greeting cards, recycled

Birthday cards, postcards, anniversary cards, thank-you cards, notes of endearment, all gone. I am a heartless, unsentimental, Grinch-like Scrooge. Or, perhaps I'm a Scrooge-like Grinch. Either way, my callousness is notable.

Truth is, Hallmark has a powerful hold on me, but I'm fighting it. We have a basket hanging next to our fridge, and we put special cards that we receive (0r give each other) in it. We don't keep the casual cards, just the ones with real emotional value. Over time, they add up. They add up to 121 cards, to be exact.

Joanna and I spent twenty minutes reading through them. Quite a walk down memory lane, and purely enjoyable.

As this challenge wears on, one thing I'm starting to understand is that memories are more valuable than mementos. Of course cards themselves aren't meaningful, but they represent the time and thoughtfulness of people who care about us. Each card comes with a personal touch, and to toss it seems to indicate that we don't care about the person who sent it. That's obviously ridiculous, but the feeling is there, surrounding us like fog.

I opened a window to air the place out.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I'll admit that we saved a few pictures that were attached to some of the cards. I added those to a photo album. Everything else - every single card - got tossed into a bag of recycling. Adios, mementos. Memories, you get to stay.

Also staying will be two little surprises we discovered in the cards. We found a $20 gift card to Starbucks that I had included in a card to Joanna months (years?) ago. Even better, a fifty-dollar bill dropped out of an old Christmas card from my parents. Mom and Dad were rockin' the General Grants! Oh, how I love the 'rents.

No worries, we'll downsize the gift card and cash as quickly as possible.

Bit by bit

9/21/09 One bag of basement junk, recycled; one bag of basement junk, trashed

Check out the picture above. That's what I'm up against. It's a view of about 1/3 of my basement, which has WAY too much stuff in it. The problem is that there is almost nothing there that I look at and say, "Oh, I should get rid of this." It's all useful, at least from a certain point of view.

One of the great life-lessons I learned from my Grandfather - hereafter properly referred to as Papa - was that if you do a little bit at a time, any job will eventually get done. In a way, that captures the spirit of the Downsizing Challenge. Rather than doing the usual binging and purging of spring cleaning and fall yard sales, I'm trying to keep a steady pace. Every day, something goes. Doesn't have to be anything big, just has to be something that otherwise would have continued to sit here.

Today, it certainly wasn't anything big. I devoted forty-five minutes to the basement, not trying to make decisions on difficult items, but starting to clear a path to them. I managed to fill a garbage bag with trash and a shopping bag with items to be recycled. I would bet that every single thing I put in one of those bags had been in my basement for at least a year; most things probably more like three or four years. I'm telling you, the basement is like a giant clutter magnet.

Now there is slightly less clutter down there. It's a small start, but perhaps I can build on the momentum and continue to chip away it.

I'm making progress, a little bit at a time. Right, Papa?

Your tax dollars at work

9/20/09 Eleven cat litter storage buckets, recycled

Your tax dollars subsidize my cat litter.

Perhaps I should explain.

The U.S. Farm Bill is a document that is both more highly complex and less understood by the general public than quantum theory. One delightful part of this (continually re-authorized) document is the outrageous government subsidies for corn production. To make an unbelievable and long story short, our government has decided to make corn basically free to corporations, who then use it to make huge quantities of cheap, unhealthy food. Corn is so cheap that farmers must produce massive quantities of it (goodbye, small American farm!) and still need to get PAID by the government to turn a profit.

To further raise your blood pressure I recommend reading The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, and watching the documentaries King Corn and Food, Inc.

So, since the top dogs at Archer Daniels Midland and McDonald's are all too happy to accept your financial support, I decided to get in on the action.

We've replaced the usual clay litter (c'mon, do you think cats in the wild search out clay to crap in?) with litter manufactured from corn. It goes by the rather hyperbolic name of World's Best Cat Litter. Yes, Bird and Trane will now enjoy their private moments in a bed of granulated corn product. Since this litter comes in a bag rather than a plastic bucket, I won't be storing up any more of those containers. I had a huge stack of those buckets, because they seemed too useful to get rid of. I am using some of them, but I found eleven in the shed that were just empty and taking up space. This morning, I took them to be recycled at the Casco dump.

It's corn-litter-in-a-bag from here on out.

And, since your tax dollars support the production of that corn, the savings get passed right along to me. I thank you, and so do my cats. In fact, if you like, feel free to imagine that they are thinking of you as they step into the box each morning.

In honor of Vance

9/19/09 Electric griddle, three pillows, several baking pans, and a whole bunch of Joanna's clothes, given away to family & friends at our BBQ

Today we held Joanna & Reed's Second Annual Autumnal Equinox Benefit Barbecue. Our idea is to hold a summer-ending cookout each year for family and friends, raising money for a different cause each time. We supply the food and ask for a $10 donation from each guest towards our selected cause.

Last year, at our inaugural event, we donated the money to the Maine Breast Cancer Coalition. My great childhood friend Vance was, unsurprisingly, our biggest donor. While we asked for ten dollars, he quietly wrote out a check for fifty. That was characteristic of Vance: generous and quiet. He gave a lot, but never called attention to it.

Two months after last year's party, Vance passed away unexpectedly at age 36. A great friend, gone.

As we planned this year's barbecue, both Joanna and I quickly agreed we should raise money for a cause in honor of Vance. After he died, his family set up a scholarship fund at our high school. Vance and I were both proud members of Winthrop High School's class of 1990. The scholarship was set up to help students who wanted to enter careers related to computing, Vance's specialty.

That sounded like a perfect cause for this year's event.

Early in the party, my mother offered a toast to Vance, so we all raised our (plastic) glasses (of club soda) in honor of my good friend. It was a classy moment, mom.

We couldn't have had a more beautiful day. Slight breeze, warm sun, t-shirt weather on the deck. Burgers, hot dogs, macaroni salad, with a little belated birthday cake for my mom.

Thanks to all who attended, celebrated with us, and donated to the cause.

And, Dear Readers, if any of you would like to contribute to this year's Autumnal Equinox Benefit Barbecue, I'll continue to collect donations for another week or so. If you send me a check, and I'll gladly add it in with the others.

Make check payable to "Winthrop High School" and write "Wheelock Scholarship" in the memo section.

Mail to:
Reed Dyer
34 Lukes Rd.
Casco, ME 04015

Vance would never make such a shameless plug, but I will. Give, give, give. It's for a good cause, and in honor of a great man.

Thanks.

Litter mates

9/18/09 Two cat litter boxes and several hand towels, donated to Responsible Pet Care of Norway, ME

Let's agree right now to take responsibility for cats. Humans domesticated them (probably nearly 10,000 year ago), so now it's our deal.

According to the Humane Society, there are about 88.3 million cats owned in the U.S., with one in three households sporting a feline. Yep, a lot of people love cats.

But, that's only part of the story. Such things are nearly impossible to calculate, but a National Geographic article from 2004 estimated that there are another 70 million feral cats in the United States. Toss in stray cats - well, not literally; I frown upon cat throwing - and the number of cats slinking around out there boggles the mind.

By the way, estimates about how many birds are killed each year range wildly, but are certainly in the tens of millions, with the likely North American total at least 100 million.

Let's get real, folks. We need to do two things, and we need to do them now.

1) Keep your cats inside. Indoor cats don't kill birds and they don't crap in my yard (unlike my neighbor's cat).

2) Spay or neuter your cats. By the way, I plan to go to my grave still confused about the difference between spaying and neutering.

Among the folks who are doling out and following that great advice are the wonderful people at Responsible Pet Care in Norway, ME. Don't let the generic "Pet" in the name fool you, this place is all cats, all the time. Last year, they took in over 350 cats and successfully found homes for nearly that same number. Nonetheless, that place remains packed to the rafters with cuddly tabbies and eager mousers. Yes, Responsible Pet Care needs all the support it can get in its important mission, so I tried to play a small part today.

I donated several old hand towels, which they are apparently in need of, as well as two litter boxes that were just too small for our cats. We've got two seriously large critters. They basically need a bathtub-sized litter box. Their attempts to use the smaller boxes resembled that moment in the circus when the elephant stands on the little stool. Rather awkward.

So everyone ends happy. I got rid of several things today, Bird & Trane don't need to worry about uncomfortable morning constitutionals, the homeless kitties have some new accessories, and tomorrow the birds will be chirping. (As long as my neighbor starts taking responsibility for her cat.)

Plastic passion

9/17/09 Two plastic storage containers and one (non-matching) cover, recycled

I hate storage containers that don't have matching tops. Despise them. Passionately. More than anything else in the entire world. If I put leftovers in another piece of Tupperware and then discover that it's got no top, I am going to tear my kitchen apart in a mindless rage.

Okay, that's a bit much, but don't you find containers without covers annoying?

Tonight I tossed two containers and one top, none of which matched. Actually, our goal is to get rid of all of our plastic food containers (stay tuned!). It's all part of the continued de-plastic-ification of our lives. I'll find another way to downsize the ones that still have matching tops, but it was great to get rid of these immediately.

Wow, I'm easily mollified.

There's gold in them thar pens!

9/16/09 Cross pen and mechanical pencil set, sold on eBay for $27.99

Well, eBay came through in a big way today. Remember that post about how I found giving pens as a gift a rather antiquated practice? Well, I can see that there's still a market for fine writing tools. Today I sold a Cross pen and mechanical pencil set - gold filled! - on eBay for $27.99.

Wow.

To be honest, I have no idea what a comparable pen set would cost or how much whoever gave it to me (I betting it was a high school graduation gift from my grandparents, but I can't be sure) possibly paid. But, I'm perfectly happy to mail it off to a new owner for a cent shy of twenty-eight bucks.

Actually, I hope it's worth four times that much and the buyer got a real steal. Interestingly, that buyer lives in Clifton, NJ, where I spent two years after college. I did a living/working tour of northern Jersey from 1994-1999: Paterson, Clifton, Union, Union City, Palisades Park, Newark. The Garden State takes a lot of crap, but anyone living there gets props from me.

They get props. And a pen.

The daily grind

9/15/09 Sports Illustrated cover with picture of Pedro Martinez, mailed to Philadelphia

Trying to do anything out of your normal routine every day, day after day, without skipping a day is not easy. Sure, there are a few things that happen daily, even without much effort. Eating, brushing your teeth, chillin' with the cats. But when you try to do something beyond basic life functions every twenty-four hours, things get tough.

Think about something you enjoy doing. Going for a run. Cooking a great meal. Watching a movie. Now, try to imagine doing it every single day; no exceptions.

Nor'easter brought two feet of snow? Lace up those shoes, gotta get out there and jog.

Had a long day at work and got home late? Start cookin', buddy.

Driving all day to get to relatives' house for the holidays? Better bring the portable DVD player to watch that flick.

Even the fun stuff becomes a drag when you never get a day off. It also can be a logistical challenge. I'm forty-six days into this year-long adventure, and it's clear that some days are just going to be a scramble.

As I rummaged through boxes of priceless goodies yesterday looking for downsizable Patriots stuff (read about it here), I discovered a Sports Illustrated cover I've saved since 1998. Not the whole magazine, just the cover. I hadn't even cut it off cleanly. And there was a yellowed piece of tape still attached to one corner, revealing the fact that it had once served as decoration in my apartment. Is all of that pathetic?

Perhaps you'll say yes when you find out that my reaction wasn't to throw it out. Instead, I mailed it off to be - hopefully - autographed.

But, here's where that daily grind kicks in. Writing a soppy letter to Pedro Martinez and going to the post office to get proper postage wasn't in today's packed schedule. After my last meeting of the day, I flew out of school, making it to the post office parking lot five minutes before closing. Fortunately, I'd grabbed the S.I. cover and some envelopes before I left home this morning. I sat in my car, hurriedly scribbling a note to the former BoSox hero. I ran inside before they locked the door, but they had to unlock it to let me back out.

Day forty-six? Check.

Tomorrow, I get up and do it all over again.

Unpatriotic

9/14/09 2008 & 2009 Portland Sea Dogs game programs, recycled

Got home after a long day and was ready to just mail it in, so to speak. With the graduate class I'm teaching scheduled for Monday nights, it's likely that my early week downsizes will be a bit lame from time to time.

I hadn't decided what to get rid of when I turned on Monday Night Football to watch the New England Patriots' season opener. I admit I have way too much sports memorabilia, much of it in the form of newspaper clippings and random articles. Thus, I thought I'd found the solution when I said to myself, "I'll go dig out some old Kennebec Journal with the Patriots on page 3 and toss it."

After fifteen minutes of searching, I am embarrassed at my utter disrespect for the Pats. Apparently, I have somehow been terribly lax in collecting Patriots news. Oh, I have several Sports Illustrated magazines with Patriot stories, but that's about it. Where are the papers from all those Super Bowls? Where's the love, Reed? Where's the love?

My head is hanging right now. I had to resort to tossing two Sea Dog yearbooks, a terribly weak substitute.

I would like to now use this platform to issue a public apology to owner Robert Kraft, all-around stud Tom Brady, and the entire Patriots organization. Just say the word, and I shall abandon the Downsizing Challenge and immediately set the new goal of acquiring one piece of Patriots paraphernalia every day for the next year.

But, you've got to break the news to Joanna.

When I'm not home.

Footloose

9/13/09 Pair of L.L. Bean hiking shoes, trashed

Editor's Note: This is the third and final installment of my "Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike 10-Year Anniversary" trilogy.

Hiking gear is paradoxical. On the one hand, I consider myself a total gear-hound. I love cool backpacking gadgets and new, high-tech solutions to the challenges man has faced in the outdoors for hundreds of thousands of years. Set me loose in any outfitter, and I can kill hours examining the capacity/weight ratio of packs or comparing the merits of water purifiers.

On the other hand, there's nothing like well-worn, wilderness-tested gear. My MSR WhisperLite stove is seventeen years old and works as well as it did the day I bought it. If necessary, I can field-strip the entire contraption, fix any problem, and reassemble it in the pouring rain in plenty of time to boil Ramen for dinner. New is cool, but old is even better as long as it still serves its purpose.

Today I finally had to admit that my most recent hiking shoes could no longer serve their purpose. They were ready for retirement. In the trash can. Those shoes got me up and down Mt. Katahdin yesterday (here's the Downsizing post, in case you missed it), but they are ripped, worn, and seriously stinky.

The trouble is, I'm notoriously bad about throwing away old hiking shoes, and terribly reluctant to spend more money on new ones. I long ago realized that I preferred lightweight, low ankle hiking shoes to traditional hiking boots. They are lighter, more comfortable, more versatile, and - yeah - cheaper. But, while a solid pair of hiking boots can last a decade or more, hiking shoes give up the ghost much quicker.

Yesterday's hike was an appropriate and glorious final act for my current pair of shoes, so I took them to the dump with me this morning. This has left me completely without a set of hiking shoes - a situation which would have totally prevented me from throwing them out in the days before this challenge.

However, I can now see that one great advantage of the Downsizing Challenge is that it brings needs clearly into focus. While I've needed new hiking shoes for over a year, I didn't come to grips with that fact because I could see my old pair sitting at the foot of the stairs, available for use. Now, that floor-space is empty, and my need is as obvious and ugly as my bare feet.

Ooohhh, I'm going to have some fun next time I go into L.L. Bean...

The Peaceful Warrior, ten years on

9/12/09 Two Nalgene water bottles, recycled

In 1999, a twenty-seven year old single guy quit his job, moved out of his Jersey apartment, and struck out to hike the Appalachian Trail, calling himself The Peaceful Warrior. The journey took four months and twenty-eight days, covered 2,156 miles, and ended on September 12 on top of Maine's highest peak, Mt. Katahdin. That journey is chronicled on a web page my late friend Vance created: Reed's AT Adventure.

Over the last ten years, a lot has changed. That guy has worked in three different schools, married a beautiful woman, bought a house, and relocated back to Maine. I'm him, of course, and I decided to mark this ten-year anniversary with a return hike up Mt. Katahdin.

In those ten years, some things have stayed the same. The mountain is still as big and tough to summit as ever. Without a doubt it's the hardest climb on the entire A.T. I also still have a great hiking buddy in the person of my Uncle Steve, who not only dusted off his hiking knees but also his trailname, Anchovy, for the trip. And, among the gear that again came along up the trail were my fleece shirt, trusty gaiters, and two old Nalgene bottles.

I'll return to the mountain again - hopefully not after another 10-year hiatus - but those bottles won't. They're full of all that lovely Bisphenol A (BPA) we've been warned about, and, more and more, I'm generally happy to get rid of anything that is contributing to the plastic-ization of our planet.

And, besides, the little plastic tab that kept the lids attached to the bottles had long ago broken on both of them. About the sixth time that Anchovy dropped the lid on the ground, he told me he was in "full support" of the bottles being downsized. I think well-worn, old hiking equipment is cool. But malfunctioning equipment that might give you cancer? Those bottles helped us through 10 hours of rugged trekking today, but now it's into the recycling bin for them.

As for the hike, it was unbelievable. I'd bet that there aren't a dozen days per year when the weather on Katahdin is as perfect as it was today. Sunny, mild, no breeze, and a view that was spectacular to the fifth power.

The Peaceful Warrior and Anchovy still have a little kick left in 'em. With any luck, that won't change for quite some time.

Redemption

9/11/09 Ten-year old Samuel Adams beer bottle, redeemed for 5 cents

What kind of a man keeps an empty beer bottle for ten years?

On the afternoon of September 12, 1999, I completed a 2,156 mile hike from Georgia to Maine along the Appalachian Trail. The sky was crystal clear and the view from Mt. Katahdin was, to sound cliche, breathtaking. With my parents and sister cheering me on, I reached the summit of the mountain, took the obligatory pictures, and then sat down for a well-deserved beer.

I have many mementos of that thru-hike, but that beer bottle has probably been the most visible. While most things are stuffed away in boxes, the bottle has resided on the corner of my desk in our guest room since we moved to Maine. It's unremarkable, of course, but stood as a quiet marker to an accomplishment of which I remain very proud.

An incredible stroke of luck placed the ten-year anniversary of the completion of my hike on a Saturday, so after school today I hopped into the car and headed north to Baxter State Park. I met up with my uncle and dedicated hiking partner Steve - Trail Name: Anchovy - at the Best Value Motor Inn in Millinocket, and tomorrow we shall climb Maine's highest peak.

I decided it would be appropriate to finally bid farewell to the Sam Adams bottle on the eve of my anniversary hike. And, the name of the redemption center where I relinquished the token? Payne's Redemption. I'm not with Joanna tonight, but I know she's laughing. Her last name is Payne, and, one could say, the Downsizing Challenge has largely been inspired by her example. My own redemption through Payne. And, just a little pain.

I told my story, handed over the bottle, and the guy at the shop laughed as he dropped a nickle in my hand.

"So, now you gonna put the nickle on your desk?" he said. "You gave up the bottle but now you've got the nickle."

No, I won't fall into that trap. I already spent the nickle, deliberately using it when I bought dinner on the drive north.

Does the Downsizing Challenge lead to some form of redemption? In small ways, there are moments when it feels like it does. On this date, eight years after the World Trade Center came crashing down as I taught kindergarteners a subway-ride away, it's worth pondering how we can find redemption for that which is not yet right.

Getting rid of a memento won't do that, but taking on a year-long challenge, climbing a mountain, or facing our most troubling national tragedy might be steps in the right direction.

Tape delayed

9/10/09 Four blank videocassettes, donated to Guy E. Rowe Elementary School

Today I did something utterly radical and terrifying.

At least for me.

I took every single blank VHS tape I owned (turns out there were four), trucked them to school, and donated them to the shelf where our AV equipment is housed. (In public education, such antiques are not only still used, but often in short supply.)

Giving away these tapes was not emotionally easy. What if I need to tape a TV show? We don't have TiVo, folks. We ain't got no DVR. This is the Great White North. If I don't catch a show live, there's a chance my window of opportunity has closed forever.

Well, as they sing in old movies, "Que Sera, Sera."

Actually, I see it as an interesting moment in the history of technology. In my lifetime, VHS overtook Betamax, became the entertainment centerpiece of every American household, and then slowly slid into obsolescence. Oh, how the mighty fall. (By the way, check out this cool Visual History of Video Recorders. Makes me long for the good ol' days.)

My camcorder records on HD tapes and my computer burns DVDs, so I must admit that the recordable VHS cassettes really serve no purpose. I haven't taped a show since I was really into My Name is Earl over a year ago, so these are just plastic paperweights, taking up valuable oxygen space.

And so, I'm letting go. It's not without trepidation that I shall try to live without this little safety-net, forever in fear that some important TV event will happen when I can't be there to see it live.

But, please understand, that if I can't be home for some serious Must-See TV, I'm calling you up, and you better TiVo it for me.

The colonization of my mind

9/9/09 Two bootleg videotapes, trashed

In college, my senior thesis was entitled The Ideology of Colonialism. It was an analysis of three movies and three texts, and how they all portrayed colonization as, primarily, an act of mental subjugation. In other words, if you want to colonize an area, the most important thing to do is convince whoever is already there that you're the boss.

Yeah, it's a real page-turner. I have one of two existing copies if you'd like to read it.

Pondering this weighty, intellectual idea (as I so often do as I sip sherry while lounging in my smoking jacket), I can see links to the Downsizing Challenge. The reason we hang onto 99% of the stuff we've got isn't because we truly need it, use it, or even gain some measurable benefit from it. The reason we hang onto most stuff is that we've attached some high mental value to it. All these possessions have colonized our minds, convincing us that they're indispensable.

One of the main goals of this year is to learn how to throw off the shackles and toss out the oppressors.

Power to the people!

Which brings me to two videotapes that I've been hauling around for fifteen years: Apocalypse Now and Blade Runner. First, let's take a moment to celebrate how totally awesome both of those flicks are.

Here's your Blade Runner moment: CLICK HERE

Here's your Apocalypse Now moment:CLICK HERE

They were two of the three cinematic masterpieces I used in my thesis. (The other was Gandhi. Here's your Gandhi moment: CLICK HERE.) I watched these particular VHS copies dozens of times back in 1993-94. I don't know how I didn't wear them out fast-forwarding, rewinding, and watching scenes over and over, transcribing every word. Wow, if DVDs had been around back then, my life would have been a lot simpler.

Of course, DVDs are around now, and, unbelievably, I've had both of those movies on DVD for many years. Why, then, am I holding onto these old VHS copies?!? (Please note they they were copies, not even factory-produced movies!)

Clearly, I've been brainwashed.

However, like Captain Williard and Rick Deckard before me, I'm not going down without a fight. Those two tapes are now at the bottom of my trash can, and I'm feeling just a little bit freer.

Or, maybe that's a figment of my imagination...

Sub-scribing, part two

9/8/09 Two issues of Sports Illustrated, sent to Boston for autographs (hopefully!)

As mentioned on Sunday, I have quite a collection of Beantown-themed Sports Illustrated back-issues. The idea, of course, is that I shall spend my golden years thumbing through these historical documents, reminiscing about the grand achievements of my favorite teams. Long live vicarious victories!

Then it occurred to me that it would be even cooler if I could get my athletic heroes to sign the covers on which they are pictured. How likely is it that a professional athlete will sign a magazine that I send to them? A question worth exploring.

Honestly, I've been reluctant to send off any of the mags precisely because I figured it was unlikely I'd ever get them back. However, the Downsizing Challenge is all about embracing my fear of letting go.

Today, I let go of two magazines I've had since 2007. I mailed them off to the Boston Red Sox, care of Beckett and Dice-K. Will they return signed? My fingers are crossed.

Now, for those of you who are about to protest that if they come back I will not have truly downsized them, I beg to differ. Today, I got rid of two old copies of a popular magazine. If they do come back signed, they will be something totally different: One-of-a-kind sports memorabilia. Those would be worth saving.

Paint chip on my shoulder

9/7/09 Really old paint, consumed (can trashed)

When we moved into our home in 2003, the previous owners left all sorts of goodies in the basement, shed, and even out in the woods. Thanks, Mr. Zipkin. One such present was a can of red paint that matched the trim around our deck. The rusty old thing has been sitting in the corner of my basement for six years (and probably a few more years before we got here).

That trim needed to be redone, and Labor Day seemed particularly appropriate for such work. Enthusiasm aside, I had serious doubts about what I would happen if I tried to open that can. When I did, the top basically crumbled apart, and the liquid inside looked like a gray sponge sitting in three inches of olive oil. Useless?

A minute of stirring worked magic. The paint was miraculously brought back to life and ready to run, so to speak. Now, the deck looks great, that can is out of my life, and I'm not feeling quite as annoyed at the Zipkins.

Now, will I be so lucky with the other aged paint cans? I'll let you know.

Sub-scribing, part one

9/6/09 Forty-four magazines (mostly Sports Illustrated), recycled

This will not be the last time I write about Sports Illustrated. I've been a subscriber for over twenty years. The magazine is weekly, so a rough estimation would be that I've received 1,144 issues. Considering that number, I'm pretty proud of how (relatively) few of them I've got stashed away.

A few years ago, I gave up my usually habit of saving all issues. It was part of our prenuptual agreement. Since then, I've only held onto certain special issues and magazines with big Boston sports moment on the cover. That means that I've got quite a few, since the ol' hometown teams have been doing pretty well recently:

Patriots in 2002!

Patriots in 2004!

Red Sox in 2004!

Patriots in 2005!

Red Sox in 2007!

Celtics in 2008!

Bruins in... oh, yeah, we're still waiting.

While holding onto issues that celebrate those sweet moments is completely logical, I realized that there were some magazines that could be culled. I pulled out the boxes where I store back issues and went through them. The result: 44 magazines downsized via the recycling bin.

The two boxes of magazines I have left? Stay posted... I have plans...

The Human Stain

9/5/09 Can of stain, returned to Lowes

As mentioned earlier (you can check out the Downsize post here), I think weather-sealing a deck is the most asinine activity known to man. (With the possible exception of showing up at a Health Care Town Hall meeting with an Obama photo doctored to look like Hitler. Put her in her place, Barney!)

This year, I stood out on our deck and yelled, "Enough!" I startled the cats - sorry about that, guys.

I needed to find another option, so I took the plunge and stained the deck. Actually, I think it looks great and Joanna is willing to back me up on that. However, during the process, I ran out of the factory-mixed colored stain I had purchased at Lowes in Auburn and ran down to Lowes in Windham (much closer) to get more. However, they did not have the pre-mixed stain in the color I needed. The woman in the paint department assured me she could mix it, using the same brand of base stain, to match perfectly.

Long story short: the stain I bought did not match at all. Fortunately, after a little test run in an obscure place, I realized I couldn't use the stain before I screwed up the whole project. Thus, I spent the next hour and a half driving to and back from the Auburn store, where I could buy the factory-mixed stuff. The deck did get finished, the stain all matches, and our house value went up another $20,000, I'm sure.

However, I was left with this bascially unused can of stain that was emblazoned with "NON-REFUNDABLE." As something of a natural hoarder, especially with home-improvement products, I would have usually tucked it away for some other staining project in the distant future. Ah, how I am changing.

Today, I lugged the can back to the Windham store, ready to put up a fight with the store manager or, if necessary, the corporate home office. I had visions of making a huge scene, perhaps turning the whole place into my own personal Town Hall meeting.

However, I was pleasantly surprised, as the woman in customer service quickly refunded my $25 and sent me on my merry way. Which was into the heart of the store, where I promptly spent sixty bucks. (Side note: It does appear that the Windham Lowe's employee base is not only overwhelmingly female, but also overwhelmingly under 25. You go, Lowes: buck those stereotypes.)

As far as I can tell, Lowe's current slogan is, "Let's build something together." Sounds oddly romantic, but today they impressed me enough that if they want to come over and help build that garage I mentioned yesterday, I'm totally game.

Project Time

9/4/09 Can of high heat spray paint, consumed

There are 429,358 reasons why it sucks when Joanna is away. There are only 2 semi-positives.

Positive #1: Bird and I can watch whatever movie we want. We're currently weighing the strengths of Alien 4 vs. From Dusk Till Dawn. Nearly impossible choice, I know.

Positive #2: I become a project maniac when Joanna's gone. Seriously, I get A LOT done. Tomorrow, I may build a garage.

When we moved into our house, there was an old, rusty Franklin stone sitting on our deck. I cleaned it up, and for a brief period it actually served as the world's heaviest candle holder in our house. I thought it was pretty cool, but 400 pounds of scrap iron in the living room tends to get in the way. We eventually lugged it pool-side - yes, we have a pool; yes, we are incredibly rich - where it has served as our chimenea (although we never had Oscar to help us tend it). Of course, years outside has turned this classic, antique symbol of Americana into a rusty eyesore.

I've had a random can of black high-heat stove paint in the basement for years. I bought it so long ago that I don't even know what I bought it for. But, for the last year or so, I've continually said to myself, "I should repaint that dang stove." Just sayin' the same thing over and over. Not doing anything about it, just talkin' to myself.

However, today two irresistible forces coincided: Joanna headed down to Beantown to visit her sister (thus leaving me with PROJECT TIME) and I had to Downsize something, fast.

Goodbye, black spray paint. Hello, finely painted chimenea.

I can't wait until Joanna returns on Sunday.

But...

...in the meantime...

...Alien 4, here I come!

The whole kitten caboodle

9/3/09 Sixteen cat toys, given away

I happen to have the two greatest cats in the world. Seriously. Let me introduce you.

Trane (aka, Mr. Fluffypants, Richard Parker, The Crit, Buddy, Border Kitty,) - World champion leaper. Older brother. Named after John Coltrane, saxophone great. That's Trane entertaining my Nanna in the photo above.

Bird (aka, Girl, Miss Licky, Otis T. Birdsong, Question Mark Tail) - The brains of the operation. Little sister. Named after Charlie "The Bird" Parker, even greater saxophone great.

I could tell a million stories about them (with eleven months to go, I'll be sure to make room for more than a few), but I'll keep it brief for today.

They've got a basket full of toys, most of which just sit in the basket. Every once in a while we'll hear the jingle of a bell and see one of them reaching a paw in to pull out a plaything. But, like children with a cluttered bedroom, perhaps they are overwhelmed by the overabundance of stimuli.

One of their many fabulous qualities is that they are extraordinarily generous and give freely of what they have. Today they agreed to let me give away the majority of their toys, on the condition that I not trim their nails for another two months. We shook on it. (My hand is still bleeding.)

The toys are now under the care of my local librarian, Wes, who has recently assumed responsibility for a stray cat and her litter. You can read all about it on his recent blog post here. Wes shall surely dole out kitty toys in a judicious and thoughtful way, bringing joy to felines everywhere.

Footwork

9/2/09 Foot spa, given away

One of the earliest pieces of advice I was given as a new teacher was to make friends with the custodians and secretaries. Amen, sister.

Our school has two fantastic secretaries who keep the place running like the finely tuned machine we all wish it was. They do a whole lot for me, and I don't do much to return the favor.

Until today!

Pat has had foot troubles, so she was a perfect candidate for today's downsize: a foot spa. I gave it to Joanna a few years ago, since she loves foot attention. She used it a few times, but eventually it ended up in the closet, where it was destined to take up permanent residence.

Until today!

Consumer culture dictates that we must run out, buy things, and love them until the day they die (in a landfill). It's all the better if we tire early of our latest toy and toss it quickly, so we can go out and buy more. If we don't love things forever the fault is either with us - we don't appreciate this great toy! - or with the product - it doesn't deserve our attention! But, today I started to think that somethings are just meant to be with us for a set period of time, and then move on to others.

Take, for example, this foot spa. It was great, we loved it, it loved us.

Until today!

Now, the foot spa is in Pat's capable hands - or, perhaps her feet. May she love it... until she passes it on.

Public Speaker

9/1/09 Computer speaker, trashed

Electronics are hard to downsize. It seems wrong to get rid of something that plugs into a wall and whose inner workings baffle me. Broken stuff I can handle, but if it still operates, wow, it's tough to trash. Of course, with the amazing speed of technological advancement, we find ourselves surrounded by more and more functioning - yet worthless - equipment. Furthermore, as far as I can understand, every outdated electronic device in our homes contains enough hazardous material to build a dirty bomb. Proper disposal is a confusing and complicated process.

I've had the computer speaker (originally part of a pair, but the companion piece died years ago) since I lived in New York. It's traveled up the East Coast with me, sat by my desk, and basically served no function other than to keep the shelf from floating up into the sky. Yesterday, I plugged it into my computer so I could hear a DVD better. The sound out of the speaker wasn't even as loud as the laptop's built in speaker. And it sounded like it had emphysema.

What would you do? I, of course, put it right back on the shelf.

Clearly, as my first month of the Downsizing Challenge drew to a close, I had learned nothing. I had a worthless thing in my hand, and I carefully returned it to the same place it's been sitting for six years. Likely, as I did this, I was thinking to myself, "Now, what can I possibly get rid of today?"

Really, Reed?

Six hours later, as you know if you read yesterday's post, I downsized most of the contents of a binder. It was the best I could do at that late hour.

Today marks Day 1 of the second month of the challenge. I'm one-twelfth of the way through the year, and I'd like to think that the new month has brought me a clearer sense of vision. Today, when I sat down at my desk and the speaker caught my eye, I knew immediately it had to go. Right in the trash. (Don't tell the dirty bomb makers.)

September, continue to show me the way!