Aug 23, 2017 |
by Molly Jo Realy @RealMojo68
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Momma says, “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.”
I packed up almost thirty pieces of clothing to give away today. Thirty, y’all. I thought my closet would look sparse. Hungry, even. But, nope. There it is, all neat and pretty. Straightened. Dust free. And dare I say, organized.
Oh, and the shoes. That’s right. This Girl tossed out four pairs of shoes.
And I’d do it again.
My Momma always says, “Less is more.”
Now, I’m not always a fan of most of my Momma’s mantras. (Sorry to burst that bubble, Mom). Mostly because she uses them to drive home a point I should already know. Things like
“Keep it simple.”
“Just breathe.”
She’s right of course. Dangnabbit. She’s almost always right. Dangnabbit again. I guess it comes with . . . Well, I was gonna say age, but not sure she would approve. Let’s change that. I guess it comes with the territory of being a Momma.
So, back to my opener. Yup. I did it. I’ve been on a clearance kick and I don’t mean sale. I’m taking a day at a time to focus of what I can, and let go of what I can’t.
Letting go can be hard. We hold on to so many things for varying reasons:
- Sentimentality
- A sense of obligation
- Rarity
- Habit
- Hassle of disposal
But those aren’t really good reasons to keep things around. Things, here, can mean more than the tangible. It’s also emotions, thoughts, actions.
Before you know it, life is hoarding station and you know you have what you need but it’s buried under mountains of . . . well, stuff you don’t need.
I tend to hold onto things for “someday”:
I can’t get rid of those games, I might someday have grandchildren.
I can’t toss out that old jacket. I bought it two boyfriends ago.
I need these movies that I haven’t watched for ten years. I might have friends over next someday.
I don’t want to let go of how I’m feeling. It’s uncomfortable, but I’m used to it.
Mostly, when I’m stressed over something that hasn’t happened yet, Momma sits me down with a cup of coffee and says those seven words I dread the most.
“Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.”
She’s right, of course. Did I say that already? YOU’RE RIGHT, MOM. OKAY?! You’re. Right.
And the best thing I can do, is do the best I can. No matter what.
As you’ve probably guessed, my Momma’s a big fan of keeping life neat and tidy. [And her house. You should see her house. It’s better than mine. Like, always. #shemakesmejealous.]
The truth is, nothing changes if nothing changes. And since each day is new, that’s a whole new 24-hour pile of stuff going on to the pile from the day before, and the day before, and the day before . . . And before I know it, I have a year’s worth of junk mail in a bag on the floor. What good is that to anyone?
So, literally and metaphorically, I’m cleaning out the house this month. And I’ve come up with a few questions to help me evaluate whether something should be kept, donated, or trashed:
- Does this enhance my life?
- Does this help me enhance the life of others?
- Do I feel good and healthy about this?
- Does this bring back good memories, or do I just feel obligated to keep this?
- When was the last time this was used or useful or appreciated?
- Am I holding onto this in anticipation of something that may never happen?
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Momma says, “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.”
Now, I don’t want to be a chicken, afraid of life and what’s right in front of me. I want to be a chicken who’s brave enough to crack that shell and come out into the world singing.
So if y’all will excuse me, before I toss this house some more, I need to go sit down for coffee with my Momma.
Are you facing a messy closet and need a change? How do you clean out your life?
TWEET THIS: How do you clean out your life? #Momma and #Chickens and a Clean Closet @RealMojo68
With a clean closet and a happy chick,
~Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear . . . : That’s all she wrote!
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Mar 3, 2013 |
Last year I started My Housing Project: Blog posts directly related to the improvement of my property.
With yesterday being the first nice weekend day in months, Mom came over and the three of us started cleaning up the front yard.
Leaves at the Fence
Leafy Trail
While they raked and bagged piles and piles of leaves, I dug up root balls for two rose shrubs and one Euonymus. The second Euonymus shrub is only partly uprooted, as the roots grow like moss and grab into the soil for nearly a foot. Those are easy enough to break with the shovel but it’s the actual thick root I’m having trouble with. After all the other digging and uprooting, I just couldn’t continue in the hard desert sand to finish it yesterday.
I didn’t photograph my efforts. I wish I had, for the Before and After. From now on, I will.
We celebrated with a Shamrock shake from McDonald’s, and it was so pleasant to see the newly cleaned yard when we drove back home. It’s still dirt, but at least now it’s clean dirt.
There’s still a pile of leaves against the fence corner. With a few more black bags, they’ll be gone.
What really excites me is that the birds are returning. For the first time since September, I cleaned and filled the bird bath as well as set out seed, peanuts, and cracked corn. It took my birds all of one hour to rediscover their buffet.
That means they’re also flocking to the nearby Joshua Tree. Which I happily discovered, is about to bloom.
Joshua Tree Buds
Joshua Tree Buds Up Close
Look at those buds!
Another Bud!
The Whole Picture
Soon they’ll flower for a short time, then fall off and leave the beginning of a branch. Joshua Trees only bloom once every two or more years, and this is the first time mine has done so. It’s a quick process, as the bloom has grown and spread since my first seeing it yesterday. I know my Cactus Wrens will be thrilled as their home gets a new level or two!
Once I pull up the five half-dead Lilac bushes along the north fence, I hope to line it with Italian Cypress. Italian Cypress grow quite well in the desert, and they’re a wonderful shelter for birds as well as an attractive property divider. Some yards have them spaced intermittently; others plant them closely together. I love how they grow tall and thin. Some can reach as high as fifty feet! Some local nurseries have them available for less than $5 each, and my planning calls for eight or nine. These are the 3-gallon size. Sure, that’s small to start with, but since they grow so fast, I’m fine with watching them from the beginning!
I also hope to afford a raised bed gardening system for my tomatoes and herbs.
I may not be able to finance it all this summer; but the plan is the start.
And I can’t wait to get started. One plant at a time.
My birds are a little excited about it, too.
Bird Bathing
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
May 29, 2012 |
On the heels of yesterday’s post How to Help a Mourner, I admit that I’ve had to unfriend a few people on Facebook. It makes me sad that it came to this. But it’s also a bit refreshing. It’s a bit like cleaning the dust bunnies out from under the bed. You know what I mean… those harmless, hidden bits of dirt and debris that after a while grow so big you have no choice but to bring out the Dyson and suck them out into daylight and the garbage can. Yeah. It’s been like that.
My Mom (and Olivia Walton) say there’s nothing like cleaning when you’re upset or waiting. And since this week has been a handful of both, two days ago I finally got a step-stool and a bottle of Pine-Sol, and today I attacked the laundry room. An hour of scrubbing, sweeping, wiping, and washing; a wire shelf installed in the cabinet… and I’m almost done.
And tomorrow I have a job interview. A big job interview. This could be the job. So along with cleaning the laundry room, I’ve been doing laundry.
What a great feeling. Fresh. Productivity. Cleanliness. Doing something. Anything.
The first step to getting back to the New Normal.
And I’m not really sure how I feel about that. Because I wasn’t ready to feel good this soon. But feeling good right now, smiling and finding something to be happy about… is a good feeling.
It’s like a cleansing breath of fresh air after being closed up for a while.
A deep, cleansing breath.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
