Life in a ridiculously yellow house. . .
. . . is always full of laughter, even when the sun refuses to shine.
(ps, I think you both might be getting too old for these shenanigans!)
Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And all the things that you do. ~Coldplay
Last year I did away with using commercial laundry detergent that is so harmful for the environment and switched to an eco friendly product. No more liquid fabric softeners either—not that I’ve ever been a big fan of them since most of them smell like baby vomit to me. I know, it’s probably just me.
However, living in Astoria means dealing with our horrible water. Laundry washed in it, no matter what kind of soap I use, still ends up smelling funky. It’s a bit depressing to step fresh from a shower into a funky towel. To combat the issue, I found myself relying more and more on fabric sheets. Bad, bad, bad for the environment. Not so great for masking the smell, either.
So, last year I went hunting for solutions. Many of you make your own laundry detergent using this recipe. Looks great on paper, but you can’t use it effectively in a front loading washers on a cold water setting. So, I opted to add the oxyclean to my load and use a liquid eco friendly detergent and call it quits. Sure, the detergent is way more expensive than Costco’s mega bottle of Tide Ultra, but since the year before we opted to start making our own coffees in house—I could squeeze it.
There is no doubt that when shopping for laundry detergent, my first instinct is to ask: how does it smell? Foolishly, perhaps, believing that smell has something to do with efficacy; never mind the chemicals involved. That instinct is quickly followed by: how much does it cost? And now we get down to it. Laundry is a reality in all of our households and the expense can eat away more of a grocery bill than most of us want to allot. Saving the environment is a worthy cause—but it often comes third or fourth to feeding a family.
I’m no longer in a position to be rationing pennies. No longer do I walk into a store and buy the cheapest item I can find in attempt to work miracles on a thin budget. What a blessing! Instead, I buy items I like using, or support my ethical perspectives, or are a good buy. However, this was not always the case. I can remember right after 9/11 when IZ had NO job, we were bleeding $2k a month in bills, and I was working 40 hours in a bookstore attempting to feed us. The store was in a wealthy part of the Bay Area and our patrons had expendable income to purchase books. Let’s face it, if you can afford to not rely on the public library, life isn’t treating you too poorly.
It was a chatty bookstore and a couple came in and we fell into conversation about supporting independent bookstores. Which, naturally, led to a conversation about the evil that is Walmart and its ilk. Now, the wife of this couple had no idea who she was talking to. Her husband seemed more aware that there was probably a significant difference between their income and my income. So, when this woman ended her rant about how she didn’t understand the patronage of big boxes like Walmart or Target or even Safeway, I couldn’t help but offer this.
“I wish I could afford to buy all my groceries at Trader Joe’s or to buy my clothes someplace other than a chain store. But the truth of the matter is, most of the people who shop at those places are not in a position to choose. I would warrant that most of them would like to walk into swanky Whole Foods too.” Her husband looked at me and with a great deal of compassion said, “We weren’t always in that position either. It takes time. It doesn’t happen overnight.”
This is the bottom of the truth of it, right? Some of us cannot afford to make sweeping changes to support only organic, independent, locally owned products. Not in entirety. To do so would push our budgets beyond their ability to feed our children. When a choice based in cost is a choice about the quality of food we put in our bodies vs. the costs to the environment—it’s a no brainer. It’s not a choice. I’m going to choose good veggies and good protein for my kid’s growing brain. The environment will have to wait. It may be the obvious choice, but that doesn’t mean it sits well with me.
Our budget has not increased overnight. We still go weeks, months sometimes without being paid. So, in order to address this impulse to feed my family AND save the environment, I’ve chosen to focus on ONE thing each year. As our budget has increased, so has our ability to add more tiny changes to our way of living. Last year it was detergent.
Imagine my glee to discover this bottle of eco friendly detergent at Costco. It’s not only good for the environment, but it’s competitively priced with the other name brands you can buy in bulk. Since it comes in a great family sized bottle, this means fewer trips to the grocery store to buy overpriced eco-friendly detergent. Sometimes, you don’t have to choose! Win, win!
Happy, happy me! I walked around Costco yesterday completely amazed. It felt like a reward, really. That after a year of making this tiny choice, the Universe had responded in kind. I kept saying, “IZ, you don’t know how happy this makes me!”
Life is not all or nothing. We don’t have to overhaul our buying choices overnight to favor the environment. Nor does the environment always need to be the last thing we consider when making a choice about where to put our pennies. Sometimes, we can make tiny choices. We can do small things. The difference will add up.
Can I just say, I’m touched? So, very, very grateful for your generosity of spirit. You all did such a great job, turning out and commenting on Boy Wonder’s feature. I suspect that it might be a record number of comments on any post over on Modish—and I’m overjoyed that a good portion of those comments were made by my readership. You people know how to represent!
I was greeted this morning by a very chipper boy, “Mom, you’ve got to go see what people are saying! So many nice things! Grammy left a comment AND a designer!!” Evidently, he’d figured out how to access this site and then followed the links. Who wouldn’t, right? It’s not every day that the world sings your praises in print (more often than not, people would rather project negativity!) and reading about yourself in a positive light is ever so lovely. It’s good for you, in limited dosages. And I would wish that experience on each of you at least once or twice in a lifetime.
Some of you excel at providing this kind of recognition. I’m blushing as I type this, because I feel terribly awkward saying, “Hey look, someone is singing my praises over there.” Being tagged with these kinds awards always makes me uncomfortable! I mean, I’m honored and touched and deeply grateful for the kind words—but then the rules of such blog awards require that you in turn tag more people. And you know, I just can’t bring myself to choose! I can’t. Instead, I will point you to my readership! If you want an example of excellence, you simply have to click on any link from any commenter…
I am sincere with my gratitude. As you know, I’ve recently felt the dark side of the blogging world, so the timing of all this positive attention is a gift in itself. As it turns out, my detractors have not been content to be silently lurking, but actually write bile on the internet. Sadly, not just about me. I am always astounded, that when given the opportunity to raise your voice and be heard, a person might choose to profess such ugliness. The internet has provided an outlet for so many people to be heard… and I cannot wrap my brain around a choice for something other than beauty, truth, love, compassion, or justice.
It’s not to say, that we don’t have real stories of terrible pain. But there is a significant difference between writing our truths and churning out hatred. It’s the worst school playground experience magnified for the whole world to see. The internet does not forgive, nor does it forget. What we write in these personal spaces has the potential to outlive not only its usefulness to us, but our very selves. While what we write may not be a reflection of our whole selves, it is a reflection of a part of us. For future generations, it may be the ONLY reflection seen. And I don’t know about you, but I want my great-grandchildren to feel a sense of who I was when they read these words. I want them to respect that I was a person who cared enough about my world to ACT in my world. I want to leave a record of the beauty that can be found, the excellence that can be experienced, and the joy that I have known just being here.
So, for your part in this record. . . thank you. Each of you has stepped up in your own way—it does not go unnoticed. For your beautiful contributions to both this site and what you individually write on your own—words are not enough to express my gratitude.
Thank you.
Sometimes where you least expect it. Sometimes right beneath your nose. Where did you find beauty today?
The sun has been out for days and I find myself giddy. Over the top happy. Sure, it’s bitterly cold out there, but not like the rest of the country. I’m still wearing ballet flats with no socks and complaining about being cold. I’m pretty sure my tongue wouldn’t freeze to any metal surfaces if I were inclined to lick one.
But it’s not just the sun. Do you have those moments where it’s all perfectly ok? Even though there are problems in your world and the world at large, somewhere in your soul you sense this deep core of contentment. Perhaps not abiding, but certainly not fleeting?
It doesn’t take much to make me happy when the sun is out. Golden orb bright in the sky, I get how ancients once worshiped you! This orchid colored blouse is making me happy today. I’m actually wearing it at the moment! It’s a little piece of weekend redemption, made from fabric I purchased Sunday afternoon. It makes me giddy for reasons you might not expect.
To begin, I used a pattern. Oh yeah, I did! Those of you who sew will recognize the silhouette immediately, as I think most of you have probably already made one or two or three of these. I’m always last to the party. But, I have my issues with patterns. This is a Built by You from Simplicity pattern—which is part of Built By Wendy. I’ve been wanting to make something off these patterns for ages, but the Built By Wendy patterns all run smaller than I am. Smaller than I will ever be, most likely! (who are these nymphs sewing??) Fortunately, and just barely!, the Built By You patterns are larger. A little fact I did not know until two days ago!
I was raised by a seamstress. My mother is a master. This is not familial pride, but the truth. I could sit for hours listening to her machine, chug chug chug away into the night. I was a chatterbox (really!) and I don’t know how she pieced together anything with my constant talking. She could sew and handle all my “but mom” questions without ever missing a stitch. Somehow, she managed to concentrate in the middle of madness, turning out amazing work with such ease it looked like magic.
However, for all her skills, I was not a model student. Which, in retrospect, is appalling, how unteachable I was! That I have the poor skills that I do are no reflection of her–but I can imagine how frustrating it must have been to have me as a student. We are very different people and while she could read a pattern and make sense of it, it looked like advanced math to me. If there had been a “Math is hard!” Barbie when I was a kid, I would have had one. I was used to being stumped by numbers. Words were a different matter altogether. I liked words! Being stumped by them was a bitter blow to my pride! Patterns became my mortal enemies. And my sewing career ended as quickly as it began.
The one lesson my mother made patently clear and that has stayed with me forever is this: if you’re going to sew for yourself, sew with the best fabric you can afford. There is little point to making garments for yourself out of cheap cloth.
Forgive me mom, but this shirt was made out of $2 a yard bargain barn fabric.
Did I mention I also have a few issues with cutting fabric? My mom used to cut out my patterns just to get me started. I’m intimidated by cutting on expensive fabric. Not that anything in JoAnn’s could be classified as good fabric, (I’m sorry, I’m also a fabric snob by nature, I’m blaming my mom for this too!) but I couldn’t bring myself to buy $10 a yard fabric for a pattern I wasn’t even sure would fit me. So, I consider this a mock-up. Which I hear is good sewing, right?
Cheap fabric in hand, pattern read over a dozen or so times, pieces pressed and trimmed, I cut. I cut and I sewed and I even listened to another chatty 11 year old over the chug, chug, chug of my machine. Boy Wonder kept me company, perched on a daybed in my craft room, full of his own “but moms”. Some days we come full circle.
But I love it. I love the line and the ease. I love the fact that it fits, barely, but it fits. I love the fact that I’m already planning a half dozen of these in better fabric. Jeans and a smock, my new uniform. I only need a few vintage old man sweaters to keep me warm. I’m loving that this simple blouse has built just enough confidence that I’m actually considering making the dress version of the pattern that includes a zipper. Of course, it could just be the sun talking. She’s gabby like that.
This is where I find myself today. And it makes me giddy, sitting here writing to all of you dear readers. Sipping on a found stash of a favorite tea, listening to Serj Tankian on KROQ streaming from my computer—happy to be where I am, even if my heart belongs to a different latitude. I’m loving that somehow, I made friends with an enemy. Somehow, I created in the middle of the madness, made sense of words that usually defeat me. And you know what? It feels a little like magic.
I hope your day is full of sunlight. What feels like magic to you?
I don’t know about you, but for me Friday afternoon holds so much hope. The weekend seems full of potential. I dreamily plan all the things I’m going to accomplish in the next two days—all the projects I will finish. This weekend, I vow, I will not squander away daylight but be productive. And not just productive, I will be creative. I will DO!
Inevitably, I stay up too late on Friday night, sleep in on Saturday morning, and find myself lounging around in my PJs at 2:30 on Saturday afternoon pondering just where I put my resolve. I suffer from delusions of grandeur quite often, but never more so than on Friday afternoon.
Which, is probably why sometime on Sunday afternoon, after a rushed breakfast and heralding the family out the door and off to church, I find myself desperately attempting to redeem my weekend. A load or two of laundry here, a spruced up kitchen there. Haul out the vacuum. Dust a few surfaces. Hey, look, I can see the floor.
Tidied up but hardly perfect, I can’t help but notice how much around here can be classified as a WIP. Rooms half painted, carpets in DIRE need of steam cleaning, purchased drawer organizers lounging around waiting for me to decide just which drawer gets the honor. . . we aren’t going to chat about the “vintage” late 80’s wallpaper that screams at me every time I enter the kitchen. And laundry? Laundry is by definition a Work in Progress. There’s always more to be done. Always.
All of it is just waiting for me to find my resolve. But you know, and I know, these are not the projects I want to tackle. There’s a huge difference between being productive and being creative. No, what’s calling me is the collection of hand-made ceramic buttons I bought on etsy. And I hear my sewing machine singing to me from the upstairs, too! Clearly, I’m an addict in deep need of a fix.
On a Sunday afternoon, there is only one destination: a fabric store. There is redemption in a bolt of cheap cotton. And as I throw my newly purchased bargain barn fabric into the washer (see, see, I’m learning!) I discover where I left my resolve. It was in the laundry room all along.
This time, this time, I will finish what I start. I will. I will. Because like Friday afternoon, Sunday is full of promise.
A new week is coming. A new day is here. What are you finishing? What are you beginning? Where do you keep your resolve?
