Halfway home

1/31/10 Two large planters, given away

Today marks the official midway point in the Downsizing Challenge. I'm halfway through the year. Making progress and feeling good. Oh, yeah!

(I've also totally forgotten yesterday's little snafu, and I've moved on from it. Really.)

In addition to the 183-day milestone, I had another first to mark this monumental day. For the first time, I had a downsize request. Joanna's sister, Amanda, came to visit and -- perhaps more importantly -- arrived with a challenge for me.

"I've got a downsize for you," she said. "I need something to save my parking space when it snows."

Amanda lives in Charlestown, outside of Boston, on a narrow cobblestone street. The unspoken wintertime parking rules -- which are enforced with a vengeance -- may seem a little odd to us rural folks, but down there they help maintain order in a chaotic world.

Obviously, when the snow piles up, street parking in her neighborhood becomes even more limited, and a type of Gentleman's Protocol takes effect. When a resident digs her car out and leaves her space, she may leave some cast-off household item to mark her place. An old folding chair, for example, placed in the spot, officially reserves it for that person until she returns.

In the winter it's quite a sight driving down her narrow street, with random bits of household debris marking parking spaces. Remarkably, it works. Probably because if you were to move someone's marker and slide into their space, your car might not be in such great shape when you returned to it.

At any rate, Amanda needed something to mark her space that was also small enough to be stored, when not in use, in her Honda Civic's trunk.

Ah, a Downsizing Mission! I love it. And this was an easy one.

I fished two large planter buckets out of the shed, simultaneously solving Amanda's problem and saying goodbye to my dream of forcing palm tree bulbs this winter. Small sacrifice, I suppose, to ensure my sister-in-law has a fighting chance of parking within a quarter mile of her home.

Anyone else out there need some Downsizing assistance? I'm here to help. At least for the next 182 days.

The best laid plans...

1/30/10 Six VHS movies and a water-proof mattress cover, given away

Here's my excuse: my birthday present to myself was to take a day off from blogging. Either that, or the champagne went to my head.

January 30th was my birthday. Early in the day, we had a visit from my sister and nephew, and then Joanna's sister arrived in the evening for an overnight visit. Amanda's the one who brought the champagne, which is a dangerous thing for a sleep-deprived new dad who hasn't had a drop to drink in two and a half weeks.

This morning, at 4:15AM, I got up to change Chase's diaper. As he enjoyed an early-morning meal, I picked up the ol' iPhone -- Hey, Dear Readers, no hard feelings, but my birthday came and went with no word of my new iPad. Didn't we have a deal? -- and saw a comment on Friday's blog from loyal reader CRM asking why there was no birthday post.

Just a gaping silence on the blog for Saturday, January 30, 2010.

What?!? No birthday post? No update on January 30th?!?

Wait, how could that be? I did a DOUBLE downsize on my birthday: six movies that Katie selected from our VHS collection and a water-proof bed cover (which proved unnecessary for us since Joanna's water broke in the hospital) for my potty-training nephew. I downsized, I downsized, I downsized! Didn't I write about it?

When I began the Downsizing Challenge I never intended to post an update every day. In fact, the day before the challenge began, I wrote that I'd shoot for commenting on the blog about once a week.

But, once I got started, the blogging became a routine, and the routine became a necessity. With my iPhone I had no excuses, and managed to post every day, without fail, even from the woods, hotel rooms, even the hospital. Heck, I didn't even let the birth of my son get in the way. Writing about the downsize became just as important as actually getting rid of something each day.

And then, half of a bottle of champagne does me in. Pass the aspirin.

In my defense, this doesn't taint the Downsize Challenge at all. I did downsize yesterday, I just waited five hours too long to write about it.

And here's a little serendipitous twist: as I write this, at 4:30AM on January 31, it is exactly the half-way point of the year. One hundred eighty-two days of Downsizing behind me, one hundred eighty-two days of Downsizing ahead of me.

And this day, the day smack in the middle, will be the ONE DAY that has two posts, to make up for yesterday's oversight.

At least until I get into that beer Amanda brought and forget to write again...

Having a ball

1/29/10 Seven tennis balls, given away

With (some of) our tennis racquets downsized, what do I need tennis balls for? Plus, others might make the great argument that since these tennis balls have been removed from their canister, they'll be too flat to use next summer, anyway.

Hah, you think flat tennis balls affect my game? You clearly haven't seen me play.

Nonetheless, I prefer to use tennis balls for their intended purpose: playing fetch with dogs.

I don't have a dog. Joanna and I debated about getting a dog or having a kid. If you've been paying attention, you know which side of that argument we came down on. The jury is out on whether it was the right choice, but we're sticking by it.

Thus, these seven tennis balls are headed to my Uncle Kenny and Aunt Bobbi's place, where they can be used by my cousin's dog, Scout, next summer. As you may recall from this post, Kenny and Bobbi own the most wonderful camp in the world, a playground for people and dogs alike.

When I was younger, I did have a dog, a professional barking machine named Waggles. Waggles loved our frequent visits to camp, almost as much as he loved chasing after balls. Tennis balls weren't good for him, since he'd tear them apart within minutes, but I'm sure Scout has a bit more restraint.

Or, if not, at least he's now got seven tennis balls to go through.

Bottled up

1/28/10 Trunk-full of returnable bottles ($3.80 worth), donated to Casco Public Library

Once again, the Casco Public Library saved the day.

Double problem: colicky child trying to test our patience and no clue what to downsize. One-size-fits-all solution: a quick outing to my favorite local cultural establishment, the library.

Carolyn, super librarian that she is, instantly calmed fussy Chase long enough for Wes and I to discuss the buxom ladies in R. Crumb's illustrated Book of Genesis (yes, that book of Genesis). Chase, for the record, was highly impressed by both the library's impressive collection and the knowledgeable and friendly staff.

The point of our trip was to get some air and show off the kid, but on the way I had a downsize brainstorm. When Joanna's family spent Christmas up here in a rented house, I scavenged all of the empty bottles to redeem for cold, hard cash. All part of my get-rich-quick scheme.

Actually, I'm totally devoted to bottle redemption, I just don't like to actually do it. Our basement tends to accumulate great piles of garbage bags filled with bottles and cans, building up until they threaten to require multiple trips in the car to get them to the redemption center. Nonetheless, I guard my bottles with my life, even collecting the redemption proceeds in a special jar in the basement.

Those Christmas bottles had remained in Joanna's trunk since the morning we bid her family farewell, basically forgotten.

In the never-ending swim against the tide, the library fights for funds any way it can get them, including encouraging people to drop off their bottles to support the library.

Don't look at me that way -- it totally counts as a downsize. Plus, with the child hanging around all the time, it was looking like it might be another dozen years before I found the time to get rid of those bottles in any other way.

As a side note: while in the library we picked up the DVD of Julie & Julia, which we watch as I type this. While I knew nothing of Julie Powell when I began the Downsize Challenge, she is yet another example of this fantastic year-long challenge phenomenon! (As I wrote in my very first blog post, it's the surest way to write a best-seller.)

We are headed for a best-seller, right? Anyone?

Well, at least the chirping crickets won't wake the baby...

iWant

1/27/10 Computer table, sold on Craigslist for $15

Dear Readers, we have only three days until my birthday, and I have arrived to help you out. I know, I know, it's hard to figure out what to get for the guy who has everything.

And, only yesterday, I would have been in just as much of a quandary as you about what to get me.

Fortunately, the forces that keep the universe aligned have given us a sign.

Today, I sold our computer on craigslist for $15. Computer table = gone. My ability to have a regular old, desktop computer = gone.

What to do, what to do?

Today, Steve Jobs introduced the iPad. An innovation so earth-shattering, it needs no computer desk. Understand? It's a computer that needs no table. Coincidence? Clearly, not.

Wow, that would sure make a great birthday gift...

Good sports

1/26/10 Two tennis racquets, sold at Play It Again Sports for $6; Two pairs of roller blades and pads, donated to Goodwill

We had four tennis racquets, and we only need two. That's an easy downsize.

We have roller blades and we live on a dirt road. That's even easier.

Quick note: I'd been planning to take some old sports stuff to Play It Again Sports, which is a used sports store that buys back equipment, for quite some time. It was a surprise to me, however, that they took two very old tennis racquets (one of which was warped) but would not take our roller blades, which, to my mind, seemed far more marketable. Apparently, the current rage in in-line skates has to do with 'soft boots.' Surprise, I'm a bit behind the times.

Fortunately, the lady at Goodwill grabbed the roller blades from me with enthusiasm. She knew value when she saw it.

Back to the drawing board

1/25/10 Drawing board & seven maternity shirts, returned

Joanna and I have had the most wonderful weekend, since we've enjoyed the services of a live-in nanny. Or should I say, "Nanna."

My mom spent the last two days with us, helping us as we adjust to life with a baby. In addition to bringing three meals (lovingly cooked by my sister), she vacuumed, did laundry, washed dishes, scrubbed every inch of the bathroom, and even washed our entire basement floor. She was also a champion at calming Chase when he got fussy and assisted Joanna with the kid's first bath at home.

Mom, can you stay forever?

After all that, I can't let her leave empty handed, now can I?

As I worked on yesterday's basement reorganization, I discovered a heavy-duty drawing board I had borrowed from her years ago. Little chance I'll be doing any intensive drawing in the near future, so it's back to the art room with that.

Joanna had borrowed a number of maternity shirts from my sister, so she also collected those, and we'll send that bag back with Mom, too.

Tomorrow it's back to the real world of parenting, with Joanna and I having to do all the work of raising this little critter. Sure hope we're up to it.

Fortunately, I know Mom will be back, at the drop of a hat, any time we need her. Chase, you don't know how lucky you are...

Under the table

1/24/10 Bunch of scrap lumber, trashed or (to be) incinerated

Often, the power of downsizing isn't in what I get rid of, it's how it forces me to better organize what I'm holding on to.

For as long as we've lived here, the space under my workbench has served as a repository for small pieces of scrap lumber. Originally, I tried to maintain some semblance of order. In recent years, however, I've resorted to just tossing stuff down there.

Today, I did a quick reorganization of the area. I disposed of less than half of the materials, but the resulting order sent me into a state of near euphoria.

Speaking of organization, I need to point out a cool website that Joanna discovered. If you are trying to get organized, this is a great blog to check out: Unclutterer.com.

I'd also love to hear any organizing tips you may have for me. Feel free to comment on the posts or email me if you have great ideas that can help me power through this year. My ears are open, and goodness knows I can use the help!

Editor's Note, 1/28/10: The creator of Unclutterer.com was featured in a story in the New York Times yesterday. He's also got a new book out, Unclutter Your Life in One Week. Maybe he'll comp me a copy since I mentioned him...

Underage drinking

1/23/10 Mr. Beer home brewing equipment, recycled

I love beer. Perhaps not as much as my kid, or my wife, or the Red Sox. But, I do love beer.

I also love Do-It-Yourself projects.

So, naturally, I attempted to combine these two interests into a home-beer-brewing hobby. It didn't work, mainly because the beer tasted awful. I made my first batch about eight years ago in my apartment in New York City. I blamed the untimely arrival of the pizza delivery man on my not adding the yeast at the proper moment, therefore making the batch taste slightly better than sugar vinegar.

It took eight years for that memory to fade enough for me to give it another shot, which I did last spring. No pizza guy to blame this time. But the beer, to be frank, still sucked.

In fact, I still have a 2-liter bottle of it in the fridge. If you're trying to avoid getting a reputation as a raging alcoholic, it's not a great idea to have a 2-liter bottle of beer in your fridge to begin with. It's especially troublesome when the beer is of such low quality that you can't break it out when there happens to be a crowd around to drink it.

Never one to waste anything, I'm not going to downsize that jug-o-beer, at least not yet. It's destined for my gullet, gosh darn it.

But, it shall surely sit there for a long time, since the baby-induced-exhaustion has made even a casual drink with dinner pretty much out of the question. I'd pass out half-way through my first glass.

Thanks, kid.

Given that in eight years, I've only used my Mr. Beer brewing kit twice -- and both times the results were crap -- it wasn't too hard for me to downsize it today. I'd tried to figure out who I could give it to, but I wouldn't wish this bad-tasting waste of time on anyone.

Mr. Beer promotes itself as "America's #1 brewing kit." Dear Readers, I'd hate to taste the beer made by American's #2 brewing kit.

So, it's into the recycle bin with the Mr. Beer micro-beer keg.

Hey, anybody out there want to drop off a six pack of Sam Adams?

Best By 10/07

1/22/10 Bunch of stuff from the fridge, trashed (and recycled & composted)

All the Getting-Ready-For-Baby books recommend that you stock up on food in preparation for the days when you don't have the time or energy to cook.

It's good advice.

We're fortunate enough to have people giving us food without us being asked. Two weeks ago, my mother stocked up our freezer with meals she had prepared. When we returned from the hospital on Monday, we had a delicious stew awaiting us in the fridge, courtesy of Joanna's family. Then, on Wednesday, a box arrived with two loaves of gourmet bread and a huge jar of delicious soup. Did you know you can mail soup? I didn't. That was courtesy of our good friends, "Betty" and "Frank."

I guess it not only takes a village to raise a child, but also to feed his parents.

Tomorrow my mother arrives to help us out for the weekend. Boy, have we got some jobs for her. Hey, somebody's got to shovel a path to the woodpile.

Mom will also, undoubtedly, bring more delicious food. To make room for that, I tackled the fridge, cleaning out everything that had expired. Joanna actually does a great job keeping the kitchen organized, but it's amazing how jars can somehow avoid detection for months past their Use By date. Or years.

Now, the fridge is cleaned out and ready to receive donations. Bring on the villagers!

Born to read

1/21/10 Two books, returned

In preparation for Chase's birth, I bought a few used books at my favorite book source, the Casco Public Library. (Fantastic selection of pre-owned books there, available year-round! Visit today!) I found two books that proved particularly helpful, How Your Baby is Born and The Birth Partner, which came highly recommended from a doula.

I read and dog-eared both in preparation for the big day. The irony, of course, is that in the excitement of heading to the hospital I left The Birth Partner book at home. Oops. No worries, I had, of course, committed every word to memory.

But, as I mentioned in a previous post, no matter how time you put into preparation, the baby arrives in a relatively short window of time. (Ladies, I know. It sure doesn't FEEL like a short window of time, but I'm talking about in the context of a lifetime, here.)

As my cousin Amy wrote, "Childbirth is a bit like weddings in our culture, huh? Lots of prep for one or two big days then poof it is over..."

Today I took those two books to the Casco Library and donated them right back. In fact, the stickers with the prices were still attached, so I took them back into the Book Sale room and put them right on the shelf where I had originally found them.

Now, I must move onto books that will help me through the next eighteen years.

Currently on the bedside table:

A Thousand Days of Wonder: A Scientist's Chronicle of his Daughter's Developing Mind

How Babies Talk: The Magic and Mystery of Language in the First Three Years of Life (A gift from my colleague and fellow Literacy Coach Mary Reed. Thanks, Mary!)

The Happiest Baby on the Block: The New Way to Calm Crying and Help Your Newborn Baby Sleep Longer

Whew, I gotta get reading. And, of course, Dear Readers, if you have recommended parenting books I should also dive into, please send the suggestions my way. I need all the help I can get.

Write it down

1/20/10 Year's worth of Writer's Digest magazine, recycled

One of the unexpected joys of the Downsizing Challenge has not been getting rid of stuff -- frankly, that's often a drag -- but the daily challenge of writing a mini-essay. From the youngest age, I've always had a perception of myself as a Writer, and this blog has become another vehicle for experimentation and learning in that area.

I've got a number of projects in the pipeline, including a young-adult realistic fiction novel, a children's picture book on which I'm collaborating with my friend Chris, and a great concept for a graphic novel about a team of super-villains. Alas, it was hard enough to find regular time for writing before the birth of my son. Now? Well, it's not looking good for leisurely hours of pleasure writing.

This afternoon, as I tried to calm Chase by rocking him as I carried him around the house, my collection of Writer's Digest magazines in the basement caught my eye. (Yes, I'd carried the kid all the way down to the basement... I was desperate.)

I had a one-year subscription to Writer's Digest not long ago, and I dutifully kept all of the issues since they contain great ideas and reference points. My intention was to save them for future use, stockpiling them for the time when I would use them to hone my writing craft.

Okay, so that's pretty much not going to happen until my kid is about...

...thirty-five years old.

The Writer's Digests have been tossed into the recycling bin.

But not my great writing ideas! They shall continue to age in my mind like fine wine... for a looooooooong time.

My Peaceful Warrior

1/19/10 "Peaceful Warrior" Philadelphia Marathon shirt & number, trashed

Four days into parenting and I'm learning so much.

Some of the lessons aren't fun.

I'm learning that scary things happen, and my perspective on what's important in my world can come into sharp focus. With this guy in my life, it's pretty easy to see how insignificant most of my other possessions are. I had a moment tonight, probably like moments I'll have countless time in the future, when I would have downsized everything -- ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING -- to know that my child was going to be okay.

He is going to be okay, of course. We were told by many experienced parents that our first few days alone at home with our child would be rough, and that has turned out to be true. But, I think we're starting to get our footing and, every so slowly, to build our confidence.

I had a few random downsize ideas in mind for today, but nothing notable. After several hours of parental worry this evening, however, I realized I needed to make a statement to myself. I needed to take something I used to think was important, really important, and trash it, just to celebrate the joy of having true priorities.

In the fall of 2000 I ran the Philadelphia Marathon in 3 hours, 30 minutes. I was exceedingly proud of that accomplishment, and I'm still not above boasting about it. During the run, I wore a t-shirt on which I had written "The Peaceful Warrior." That had been my trail name when hiking the Appalachian Trail in 1999, and I wanted some of my trail toughness to help me grit out the race.

For the record, if you ever run a marathon, definitely wear a t-shirt with your name or nickname on it. It's highly motivating to have random strangers calling out, "Go, Peaceful Warrior! Lookin' good! You can do it!" for twenty-six miles.

I've kept that shirt, with my marathon number pinned on it, hanging neatly on a hanger ever since. It's been a reminder and a symbol of pride. It stood for what I can accomplish and the type of person I want to be.

And, in the end, that shirt just isn't that important.

I've got my own Peaceful Warrior by my side, now. He's eight pounds of pure love, and I'd gladly give everything else I own up for him.

Have Mercy

1/18/10 Several hand-knit baby items, donated; a bunch of car stuff, trashed

The family (with our newest member) has arrived home. The cats aren't quite sure what to make of that new member, but we'll make it work.

Since this is the first night home with our baby, I haven't time to wax poetic on the blog, so I've got to make it brief.

First, I was absolutely blown away by the quality of care we received at Mercy Hospital. I had no idea what a huge role nurses play in the delivery of a child. They basically do 90% of the work and 90% of the educating. During our stay, we interacted with dozens of nurses and I can say, absolutely without exception, that they could no do their jobs any better. While I can't name everyone we interacted with, I must give a shout-out to the nurses who gave us skilled, personalized, compassionate care, often in grueling 12-hour shifts.

We commend:

Sheila
Brenda
Tiffany
Liz
Jackie
Leigh
Brooklee
Ashley
Amanda
Julia
Christina
Carol

As we neared the end of our stay in the hospital today, Carol came in with a basket of knitted hats, sweaters, and blankets. She told me they were hand-made by friends of the hospital and asked me to pick a few to take home. It was no surprise to me that other people care enough about this fine institution to take time making gifts to be given out by it.

After taking some of the clothing, I realized that it didn't really make sense for me to bring home those beautiful items for our son. We already have more than enough clothes for him. I wanted to be respectful of the hospital's gesture, but stay somewhat true to the spirit of this challenge.

While I didn't make close connections with any of the other families who were also at Mercy delivering babies, I crossed paths with enough new dads in the hallway to know that not all of the kids who leave that hospital have such bounty to go home to.

After a bit of thought, I spoke with another of our nurses, Christina, and asked her if I might donate the clothes right back to the hospital with the request that they be given as additional items to a family who might be in greater need. Over our stay, we made about a million requests, and every one was fulfilled carefully and without complaint by the nursing staff. I have absolute faith this one will be, too.

After being discharged, we still had to make our way home, on Maine roads recovering from a surprisingly powerful snow storm that blew through the state this weekend.

As my good friend Jason wrote in an email the day after he heard of our kid's birth, "The first time you put Chase in the car and leave the hospital will be the most nerve racking ride of your life." Indeed! I suddenly realized that just about every other driver out there is a road-raged maniac, hell-bent on running me off the road.

The tension actually began before we got in the car. I've been told -- with great theatrics -- that one of the many ways children are injured in car crashes is by being hit by stuff flying around the inside of the car. Anything in the car that isn't latched down becomes a high-speed, child-seeking scud missile. I actually began the process of de-cluttering my car yesterday, as Joanna visited with her family upstairs in our hospital room. Thus, the picture above (notice the snows hadn't arrived, yet) shows what I determined needed to be trashed.

A quick note before any of you, Dear Readers, protest that throwing a few pieces of car flotsam and jetsam doesn't count as a downsize. Among the items trashed was a "Traveler's Raincoat" that I have had in the glove compartment of every car I've ever owned. My mom must have bought it when I was a little kid, but when her old car became mine, so did the raincoat. I've dutifully held onto it ever since, transferring it to each successive vehicle, always awaiting that day when the rains will open up and it will save me from getting wet as I dash from the car to some important dry-people-only meeting.

Well, twenty-one years of driver-hood later, and that rainy day has never come, so the raincoat has been trashed with the rest. Thank you, Downsizing Challenge, for giving me permission to get rid of that thing.

The trip home was actually uneventful, and we are now ready to tuck ourselves into bed for the night. (Or for fifteen minutes, whichever suits Chase's mood).

Home, sweet home.

Circum(down)sizing

1/17/10 Foreskin, removed

There are countless big decisions we're expected to make as parents-to-be and parents. They range from the sublime -- What's his name going to be?-- to the mundane -- Should we buy baby nail clippers?

On many counts -- Which doctor? Which hospital? -- I can already say that we made great choices. Good job, us.

Today we needed to make a final decision on an issue that everyone seems to have -- and express -- an opinion on: circumcision.

This much is clear: as a parenting decision, the sound & fury around whether to snip really outweighs its true significance. The consequences and the benefits of either side of the argument are pretty nominal. Everyone acts like it's a life-altering decision, but I just don't agree.

Of course, for some the choice is obvious. If your last name is Epstein and you live on the Upper West Side, you opt for it in a snap. If your primary fragrances are patchouli oil and Birkenstock leather, you wouldn't do it for a lifetime of Grateful Dead tickets.

Joanna and I pride ourselves on not being too fundamentalist about anything, so we just had to weigh the merits and make up our own minds. (An approach rarely visible among our political leaders.) In fact, like a good politician, Joanna punted, saying, "That's your area (insert wry smile), you decide."

Ultimately, it came down to a reason no more profound than "Like father, like son."

Besides, why keep an extra foreskin hanging around when you can downsize it?!?

Lest I ignore the immediate impact of my decision on our little guy, I stayed with him for the procedure. In fact, I now consider myself an attending physician, since I helped keep him calm during the surgery by letting him suck on my finger.

Quite a fascinating operation, really, although I'm rather content that I have no memories of my turn under the knife. Rather than cherishing some memories, it's much better to just downsize them.

Editor's Note, 1/19/10: My contacts in Washington have just informed me that the Center for Disease Control and Prevention may be about to recommend circumcision for newborns, while the American Academy of Pediatrics is going to revise its previous stance against the procedure. Hey, maybe I was two days ahead of science on this decision! For the Washington Post article, click here (although you may need to sign up for a free account to access it.) Thanks for the tip, FC!

More Love, Less Stuff

1/16/10 "Prepared Childbirth" reference manual, trashed

My son was born yesterday.

Meyrick Chase Dyer-Payne officially entered our lives at 7:42 PM on January 15. (I know, I know: that name could use some downsizing, but we love every letter of it, so we're sticking with all four marvelous words.)

We couldn't be happier. I know every set of parents says they have the world's most beautiful baby, but the funny thing is that in this case, it turns out to be true.

With childbirth behind us, I now realize I've spent nine months preparing for an (extremely important) event that lasted less than two days. I now find myself completely unprepared for the next event (child rearing) that lasts at least eighteen years. Perhaps I have not used the last three-quarters of a year appropriately?

Actually, all of the learning I did about pregnancy, labor, and delivery was not only intellectually rewarding -- and, often, totally mind-blowing -- but it was an absolute Godsend as we experienced a trying thirty-six hours leading up to Chase's birth. Naivete would NOT have served me well.

One tool that provided some assistance was the "Prepared Childbirth" manual that accompanied the day-long childbirth class we took at the hospital last month. In one day, however, that text has changed from invaluable resource into yesterday's news.

And who needs yesterday's news?!?

Not this Cajun Critter. He's got his big hazel eyes set clearly on the future, and Joanna and I are ready to head there with him.

What's up there?

More love, less stuff.

(Not quite) having a ball

1/15/10 Tennis ball, trashed

In the list of things they tell you to bring to the hospital for the delivery of a baby is a tennis ball. You're supposed to use it to massage the mother's back.

I can now say from experience that a tennis ball is no match for the pain of labor.

Which is why, as soon as this baby arrives, this tennis ball is a goner.

Haiti Disaster Relief

1/14/10 $37, donated to Catholic Relief Services in response to the Haiti earthquake

As Joanna and I welcome a new life into the world (today? tomorrow? this weekend?) our minds turn to the many families who lost not only their homes and possessions but also loved ones in the horrific earthquake in Haiti earlier this week. We decided to make a downsizing gesture of support to one of the many organizations that are responding to the disaster.

The New York Times published a great list of such charities. I ask that you look it over and consider a contribution to an appropriate charity, yourself.

I chose Catholic Relief Services, mainly because Joanna and I are having the baby at a Catholic institution, Mercy Hospital in Portland. I've always been one to hedge my bets.

How can a $37 donation count as downsizing? The answer -- appropriately enough, as my mind is currently overwhelmed with notions of parenthood -- begins with a story about my mother.

My mother has a long history of presenting me with elaborate, one-of-a-kind, homemade birthday cards. I have a long history of keeping them.

Last January, for B-day #37, she presented me with a card that had $37 in five- and one-dollar bills attached to the front and thirty-seven items of trivia about the number "37" on the inside. Mom knows how to work a theme.

Despite my love for greenbacks, that card has stood, untouched on the corner of my desk ever since. It's precisely the sort of gift that I can never bring myself to spend, take apart, or recycle.

This morning, before heading out to Mercy, I carefully removed the bills from the front, made an online donation in that amount to the Catholic Relief Fund, and placed the card in a scrapbook storage box.

With that, I have reduced the clutter in my life and made a contribution to improve someone else's.

I encourage you to do the same. After all, aren't we all part of the same family?

Stuck on you

1/13/10 Five partly used, partly dried up tubes of adhesive, trashed

I need to buy glue, caulk, and construction adhesive in smaller containers. I use a little, try to save the rest, and end up with this. There's still usable stuff in each of those tubes, but you need to be like an ER surgeon to get at it.

Why bother? I've tossed them.

Besides, in a matter of days, my little son will be the glue that holds us all together.

Going out in a Blazer of glory

1/12/10 Sport coat, donated to Goodwill

Here's an ironic twist to my hoarder lifestyle. I own (rough estimate) eight sport coats and blazers. Seven of them are of decent quality, bought because they looked good and fit me.

The eighth coat? It was bought for $5 at a J.C.Penny store by a custodian at my school, and I bought it (at cost!) from him.

Guess which coat I wear on a nearly daily basis? Yep, the $5 one.

For reasons that even Adrian Veidt (smartest man alive) couldn't figure out, the jacket I've kept at school for years is the cheapie. It's there so that anytime I'm cold, which happens all the time in our rickety old school, I can throw it on. At this time of year, it's pretty much a permanent part of my wardrobe.

Meanwhile, all those other coats sit in my closet at home, occupying valuable oxygen space.

Why? Why? WHY???

There may be no answer, but I have the solution.

The $5 jacket is now at the Portland Goodwill and a slightly darker brown sport coat has taken its place at school.

Two hundred days left in the Downsizing Challenge and I'm lookin' good.

The problem with eBay

1/11/10 Star Wars Millennium Falcon 3D puzzle, sold on eBay for $11.49

One of the great things I've learned from the Downsize Challenge is how to use eBay. Frankly, I've discovered that eBay totally rocks.

However, there is one problem with eBay: shipping.

Here's an example.

Today I shipped off a super cool (and basically new) puzzle of the coolest space ship ever designed for cinema, the Millennium Falcon. This isn't any puzzle, it is a 857-piece, three-dimensional puzzle.

On eBay, the puzzle sold for $11.49. I was totally satisfied with that price, and certainly feel like the puzzle was worth it.

However, because of shipping costs, the buyer actually paid $22.99. She bid the price all the way up to $23, but I receive only half of that because the postal service has to get paid to get the goods from me to her.

No offense to the USPS, but the whole key to eBay is keeping shipping costs low. If I could magically figure out how to get something from Point A to Point B for free, I could double my eBay profits.

Oh, well. As we all know, this challenge is NOT all about the Benjamins. It's all about the downsizing.

Sweet music

1/10/10 Eight children's CDs, given away

Mom & Dad's visit ended today with a light breakfast and some good conversation.

Boy, are they good at conversation.

When my sister and her kids visited two weeks ago, I put a children's CD on the stereo and James did a little dancing. That made me remember that I have a number of other kid's CDs, left over from my kindergarten teaching days.

During breakfast this morning, I downloaded those CDs to my computer and then handed them off to Mom to give to Katie. If she (and James & Estelle) don't want them, they can pass them along to someone else in their network of youngsters.

So, I get to keep all those songs while also giving them away. That's music to my ears.

Artistic merit

1/9/09 One box and two bags of (mostly) art supplies, returned

My mom was the reason I always said, as I was growing up, that I DIDN'T want to be a teacher. She worked too hard (still does), for too little pay (way too little), and without proper recognition (not even close).

She was a daily example of what it took to be great at teaching, and it sure didn't look attractive to me.

Of course, twenty years later, what am I doing? Teaching.

Guess you can't reverse the effects of a good role model.

Besides following her into the profession, I've also called upon my mom in a million other ways since leaving home, including bumming various art supplies off her. With my recent assault on the basement, I discovered a wide variety of things my mom had lent me, all of which I consolidated into a huge pile.

The 'rents came over tonight to spend a little time, cook us dinner, and watch a movie (Swing Vote -- highly under-rated). Dad's Romertoph chicken and vegetables were delicious, and mom agreed to take all of her art stuff back, so the evening was a complete success.

Now, they are just waiting for the grandson to arrive. To return the favor, maybe we'll lend him out to them someday, as long as they promise to return him.

Fire it up

1/8/10 Homemade shelves, incinerated

First fire of the season tonight. Latest start to the fire season ever, but I've had a great excuse. Repainted the entire basement, where the stove is located. There's a whole lotta wall down there. Painting that much wall is neither fun nor quick.

But, it's done. And it looks fabulous.

We've got a huge freeze hitting a most of the country. CNN reports that it's even cold in Key West. It's definitely time to get that stove going.

The year we moved in, I used a few pieces of birch firewood to make a tall key shelf by the front door and two wall shelves for our stereo speakers.

I only used one of the stereo shelves, so the other one (uncompleted) has sat on my workbench ever since. The key shelf has been in constant use, but I needed to move it when I painted.

Sometimes a change of perspective helps to reevaluate what needs to stay and what can go.

Once I moved that shelf, I realized it could go. That led me to grab the stereo shelf off the workbench. How appropriate to get a good fire going on this cold Friday night with two pieces of birch that have been drying for seven years.

Feel the burn.

Assertive downsizing

1/7/10 Lee Canter's Assertive Discipline ©, recycled; five packs of magic markers, given away

As I depart school each day, I try to leave my office as if I might not be returning for weeks. The plan is to take three weeks of paternity leave when the baby is born, and the baby could be born at any time.

Part of the office organizing process involves trying to cull the collection. Before leaving today, I took great delight in recycling the TIMELESS CLASSIC Lee Canter's Assertive Discipline ©. (I think we're legally required to use Lee's name when referring to his book.)

I am willing to admit that Lee Canter's Assertive Discipline © was the absolute backbone of my behavior management structure for my first two years of teaching.

I should also disclose that during my first two years of teaching, my behavior management system was an absolute, incontrovertible, utter failure. I thank Lee Canter's Assertive Discipline © for that.

And yet, somehow, I have held onto Lee Canter's Assertive Discipline © for fifteen years. It's still in perfect condition, chock-a-block full of discipline tips for the new teacher.

Throwing it in the recycle bin today felt soooooo good.

Welcoming new Maineiacs

1/6/10 Three Maine guidebooks, given away

Joanna loves to travel, and she loves guidebooks. Over the years, we've had many guidebooks, although I can proudly say we've downsized the majority of them already.

Interestingly, when we moved to Maine, Joanna even bought guidebooks about my home state, which I desperately tried not to take as an insult to my native knowledge. We did put them to use, and had several adventures that were inspired by the information within.

However, I think Joanna has fully absorbed all there is to learn. Indeed, while she may have only spent one quarter as many years in Maine as I have, she has developed an absolutely encyclopedic knowledge of the state. Seriously, this woman knows Portland better than a cabbie.

Thus informed, we are ready to pass on our Maine guidebooks, which I did today to one of my colleagues, Julia. Julia teaches third grade at my school and her husband, coincidentally, teaches at Joanna's school. (Don't I keep proving that Maine is a small place?) The two of them moved here a year ago from the Southwest, presumably to get closer to his home.

No, he's not from Lewiston. He's from Ireland.

Hey, it is closer.

Since neither of them are native Mainers, they were an obvious target for this downsize.

Happy exploring, Julia. I hope the guidebooks lead you on many interesting adventures. (But if you get lost in Portland, forget the books. Call Joanna.)

Faking it

1/5/01 Five VHS movies, given away

Question: What kind of person fakes her own birthday?

Answer: An imaginary person (with a Facebook account).

I always thought I'd left my imaginary friends back in childhood, but it turns out that they not only still exist, they're pranking me. Just yesterday I saw on Facebook that the beloved "Betty Frank" (spoiler alert: NOT her real name) had a birthday coming up today. Ooo! Perfect downsize opportunity.

I called Ms. Frank to let her choose from my fine selection of excess VHS tapes, only to discover that her birthday was not on January 5th, as Facebook was broadcasting to the world. The fake birthday was just another attempt to foil those dangerous bands of marauding identity thieves who troll the internet.

As George W. Bush once so elegantly said, "Fool me once... (long pause) ...shame on... shame on you... (awkward hand motion) ... fool me, you can't get fooled again."

Generous soul that I am, I decided that we might as well go ahead and celebrate this fictitious person's fictitious birthday, and so she selected five classics: The Sting, Apollo 13, The Year of Living Dangerously, A Little Romance, and Starman. Those movies raked in eleven Oscars, folks, and, if you ask me, Starman got totally screwed out of another one.

You hear what I'm sayin'? This is a pretty good birthday gift for someone who, technically, was never born.

So, these movies have been sent off to my pretend friend. I sure hope her address isn't fake or the postal service is going to get really confused.

On target

1/4/10 Cookie tin, given away

Over the Christmas Holiday, a colleague of mine posted a request on our school email for cookie tins for his son.

Was he, perhaps, helping his boy learn the domestic arts of cooking and baking?

Don't be silly, this is Maine. He needs it for target practice.

Well, I'm happy to hand over a cookie tin for this worthy cause. (Goodness knows I won't be using it to practice any domestic arts.)

This also gives me the opportunity to share my favorite student quote so far this year.

I walked into a fourth grade classroom and stumbled upon a cluster of boys in the midst of a conversation about BB guns. A young gentleman, we shall call him Ray, rather sheepishly admitted,"Well, I shot a chipmunk four times."

Very long pause.

"I didn't mean to kill it."

Okay...

I replied with the only thing I could think to say at the moment.

"Ah, Ray, let me tell you something. If you shot something four times, you meant to kill it."

He just smiled. Get that boy a cookie tin.

Keeping tabs

1/3/10 Two plastic medicine cabinet shelf pegs, trashed

I had much more ambitious plans for today, but by the end of the day, I was too beat to devote energy to downsizing.

This last day of vacation was a busy one. Got up at 7:30 AM, did school work until noon, shoveled snow for an hour, then painted the entryway until 7 PM.

With more school work scheduled after dinner, my original downsize idea had to be temporarily scratched. (I will get to it. Hint: it has to do with the sink.)

As I was about to jump into the shower before dinner, I opened the medicine cabinet and noticed a little baggie with two plastic pegs in it. Several years ago I installed a new medicine cabinet and these little tabs are what hold up the glass shelves. The cabinet came with two extra tabs, which seemed a bit strange, since you need four tabs to hold up a shelf. If they were doing to add in extras, why not throw in four, so I might be tempted to buy another shelf?

Regardless, as it was, I had two, worthless little pieces of plastic.

I, of course, held onto those two additional tabs like my life depended upon it. In retrospect, it seems foolish to keep them. I mean, once you've installed the shelves and determined that you've got enough tabs, what's the point of holding onto the extra ones? I can't even imagine the scenario where suddenly one of the tabs breaks. The shelf could shatter, sure; but the tabs? Highly unlikely.

And yet they sat in the medicine cabinet in their cute little Ziploc for years. Nestled between the toothpaste and the Tylenol, they were, for all intents and purposes, as much a permanent part of the bathroom as the tabs that actually hold up the shelf.

Until I tossed them into the trash. Nothing is sacred in this house. Nothing!

For the record, I feel no guilt about this being my smallest downsize ever, since those little tabs are the perfect example of the kind of thing that clutters up my life for no good reason.

Besides, remember the day I got rid of 1,000 pounds of bricks? If you lump this downsize in with that one, on average I got rid of 500 pounds, 1/2 ounces of stuff today. Not too shabby.

De-basement

1/2/09 Old hiking documents and other random papers, recycled

Sometimes, the significance of the downsize has little to do with what I actually get rid of. Tonight I recycled a handful of paper. That's not such a big deal.

However, the process that led to that pile of paper was a big deal, as I spent about an hour cleaning up our basement. Ah, my greatest rival.

Larry Bird has Magic Johnson. P.C. has Mac. George W. has the English language.

And I've got the basement. It is the ultimate dumping ground, the place where things accumulate, build up, and stay forever.

Someday I shall vanquish it.

Today I took some important steps forward and set aside a number of items for potential future downsizes. I also got a few areas a little better organized. There's a long way to go, but it's measurably better than it was when I began.

Watch out, basement. I'll be back.

Keys to the future

1/1/10 Mystery keys, trashed

We have arrived at the first day of 2010. The Downsize Challenge enters a new year and its sixth month. Time flies.

I took some time last night to do a little tallying. I've been keeping a running record on the side of my blog (once again all you Facebook users, you should check out the real thing) showing the ways I've downsized. Here's the 2009 tally:

Given away: 51
Donated: 18
Sold: 28
Recycled: 23
Trashed: 20
Consumed: 4
Returned: 4
Other: 5

I began this challenge without a clear sense of how I'd get rid of stuff, but I find it interesting to see that nearly half of the downsizes have been due to things either given away or donated to a cause. If I'm going to get rid of my prized possessions, it's good to know that it's for the benefit or enjoyment of others.

Until yesterday I had categorized all such downsizes as "Given Away" but I went back through all of the posts and separated out those which had been donated to charitable organizations or non-profits. I wonder if explicitly tracking the number of donations will lead me to try to downsize in that direction more often. Time will tell.

And what time there is.

Seven months to go with this challenge. Some days it's easy, some days I think I'll never actually figure out a way to get rid of things for another 211 consecutive days. I haven't figured out the key, yet. I'm just getting through with dogged determination.

What awaits us in this coming year? What are the keys to success? Let us find joy in discovering the answers.