Rooted

In the first couple of years of my son's life, once he went to bed the mom part of me was mentally done for the day. Our bedrooms in my former house were a hallway width apart. My tuned-in ears of a mother were always on, but I rarely went back into his room to steal one more kiss or to watch him sleep. It didn't occur to me to do that until reading a friend's Facebook status.

Our bedrooms are adjacent to one another now. Every night before I go to bed, I return to my son's bedside, readjust dream swept covers, lean in next to him, kiss his upward turned cheek, and soak up his sleepy peaceful warmth. Seldom does his pattern of breathing change and seldom does he move. His subconscious mind knows that his love-struck mother is snuggling in for one more kiss goodnight. He is rooted in my love, my guidance, and my support.

There are nights when I wake up, mind whirring of tasks undone, tasks ahead of me, and much needed sleep evaded. Cups of chamomile and lavender tea, homeopathic sleep aids, stretching, and disengagement from electronics before bed have helped me regain more restful nights. On the mornings after I sleep well, I wake renewed, rooted in where I am, and smiling knowing that I am doing my best to give my son roots for whatever his life journey may hold.

Reused

Everyone should know the three Rs by now: reduce, reuse, recycle. My guess is that most people don't think about the fact that they're listed in order of importance.

In our materialistic society, reduction should be first and foremost. Do you really need one more newly made shirt that was most likely made by underpaid workers, shipped across the Pacific Ocean, and then trekked all through a retail stores' warehousing system? Could you survive wearing one of the twenty shirts you already have hanging in your closet? Reduce.

If you must have another shirt, could you possibly find a new-to-you shirt at Goodwill or the fabulous little neighborhood consignment store? Maybe you and some of your friends could organize a sip and swap where everyone gathers to sip beverages and swap clothes that no longer fit or just don't appeal to the current owner. Reuse.

If your current shirts are in tethers, you can still donate them to many clothing donation sites. As they sort through the clothes, they'll take the unacceptable clothes, package them together, and ship them to a facility that recycles fibers to be made into new products. Recycle.

Sometimes new-to-you items are necessary. For example, you can't exactly squeeze a 18-month old toddler into the 6-month old infant romper it was wearing just a short year ago. Unless you are in direct line of a friend that has all the clothes you would ever need for your child in the fashion style you prefer, shopping for children's clothing is inevitable. I hate to shop. I do everything I can to minimize shopping. I rarely go to the mall. In recent years, I try to avoid chain stores. Thus said, every spring and fall after my son was born, I've been doing my part to reuse. I bring the clothes, shoes, toys, and anything else I can sell to the consignment sale. As a consignor, I bring my battered old laundry basket (reserved for such occasions now) and shop the night before the sale opens to the public. In 2-1/2 hours time (an hour is spent waiting in line to pay), I get almost everything my child will need to wear for the next season at a steal of deal.

Consignment loot

I spent $97 on 7 pairs of shorts, 10 shirts, 1 pair of shoes, and 3 pairs of pants. I could have easily picked out 3 or 4 items that would have quickly added up to the $97 at retail prices. I save LOTS of money, time, and fuel by not having to drive all over town shopping for this and that. The pricing of my items beforehand takes a bit of time, but it forces me to methodically get rid of outgrown items each season and make room for the next growth spurt. Reuse. It keeps me sane.

Five Minute Friday: Red

The charge is simple. Spend five minutes writing about the prompt that is posted on Lisa Jo Baker's blog. The writing should be unscripted, unedited, and real.  In effort to center my heart and brain for the work day and weekend ahead, I decided to participate in Five Minute Friday today. Confession: the backspace key is part of my typing subconscious, so this bit is subconsciously edited.

Red is one of my favorite colors. To me it represents love, passion, anger, fiery spirit, and outward strength. 

I also associate it with some of my favorite foods: acidic tomatoes bursting with almost too ripe intensity, juicy fresh picked strawberries signaling the flush of summer fruits yet to come.

I wear red on days that I seek warmth and energy all rolled into one.

Red is the color of my son’s bike. It’s a deep red, a grounded red, a red that gives him confidence, gives him weight to keep tires on the ground and feet on pedals, a red that makes him go fast and challenge himself to zoom down grassy hills with mountain bike racer speed. 

Legs to Spare

During our morning routine, my son calls out, "Ew Mommy, a bug. Look at him go! Get him!" Wishing peace on the house centipede's little soul, I approached with a wad of toilet paper in hand and was told, "Wait a minute. I want to watch him. Squish him when I say, 'Go.'" Well, he never said, "Go." My son had to dismiss himself from the situation for a few minutes, so I was left in charge to monitor the bug. Scheming, I got my tweezers and planned to gently snag Fuzzy by the leg and capture him in the bug house conveniently at hand for such situations. Little did I know, Fuzzy had a few tricks up his jointed legs. When in the grasp of a predator, house centipedes can drop their captured leg(s) and keep on running on all of the remaining 15+ pairs of legs. I successfully scared two legs off of him and decided to stop before my son emerged to find a legless Fuzzy. With a tulip poplar flower for a water dish, Fuzzy is still hanging out in the bug house waiting for his eminent release into the backyard tonight. 

House centipede. Photo by Laura Jesse 

Every day I add another factoid to my noggin. 

Spreading the Word

I'm more of a "lead by example" kind of gal. But when given the opportunity, I'll state my case. My friend and editor of ASID ICON, Jen, approached me with one of these opportunities. This coming Friday, May 25 is World Interiors Day, a global celebration of design's influence on society and the built environment. For the week prior to World Interiors Day, ASID ICON blog is featuring ASID members and what they have to say about #SpaceMatters. I set about my task to capture the #SpaceMatters theme, World Interiors, and the idea that every decision designers and consumers make impact the environment and ultimately our health. Here's a link to my blog entry.

http://icon.asid.org/index.php/2013/05/22/design-in-detail-spacematters/

Spatial Relations with Food

We participated in Good Food Good People's first ever Spring Anticipator CSA. With a dozen eggs coming our way every week, we've been eating lots of egg salad, tuna salad, hard boiled eggs, omelettes, and anything else that needs eggs. It's been fun to see what the local farmers were able to store from their late fall and winter crops. We've had some yummy hydroponic tomatoes, carrots, parsnips, potatoes, turnips, a rutabaga, and a few apples. The potatoes were starting to take over more than their fare share of my countertop, so I whipped up some baked potato soup tonight. 

We ate a couple of servings, walked four servings across the street to a neighbor, and saved the rest for leftovers. Every time I pack a container to near overflowing, I think of my grandmother. After a big holiday meal, the family helped to wash dishes and put away leftover food in her kitchen. Inevitably, Granny handed me a huge bowl of leftover green beans (or whatever was cued up for storage next) and an empty Cool Whip container. I looked at the green beans and then at the container thinking, "There is no way this is all fitting in here." Sure enough, those green beans fit and there wasn't room for one more. I am proud to say that those skills were passed onto me. It has helped me space plan many offices in some of my previous jobs, has enabled me to pack the trunk of a car for road trips with no room left except for the passengers, and continues to allow me to save every last bite of delicious leftovers without a serving or a bean going to waste.

Cornbread and Black-Eyed Peas

With my Scotch-Irish roots, I make it a point of eating some cabbage and corned beef on New Years. Add in the Southern tradition of black-eyed peas for good luck and some hot, buttery cornbread and you've got yourself a hearty, belly-pleaser of a meal to kick off the new year.

Prior to cooking this meal, I made a tiny effort to start off 2013 using local and/or organic ingredients. I asked the butcher at the local grocery to tell me the difference between the conventional, non-organic corned beef I held in my hands and the organic beef roast that was leering at me from the meat case. Basically corned means pickled. Knowing I didn't have ten days to pickle the organic beef, I made a mental note for next year, averted my eyes, and abandoned the organic beef roast.

The black-eyed peas were from a can that was probably lined with BPA. The cabbage was organic, but I didn't note which country grew it. The cornbread was made from scratch using local farmer's eggs, local cornmeal, local butter, and organic milk.

On my calendar, I've marked December 6 as the day to buy beef brisket. I've added black-eyed peas and cabbage to my grocery to do list for the farmer's market in late December. For now I'll celebrate the cornbread!