Another reason to reduce

NPR explores why older people have a hard time letting go of their possessions. This, in turn, makes it harder for people to move into more age-appropriate housing ... it makes for a vicious cycle.

My house is already filled to capacity. I am not an older person yet, but it does give me pause. We moved to this house from a larger house three years ago, and we did significant downsizing to make that move successful. But we are likely to acquire more stuff as our kids get older ... what's the solution? Buy a bigger house? That seems to be a move in the wrong direction.

Busy Little Bee

February is my busy month. I haven't spent any unnecessary money on myself, but I haven't really had time. We did get a new kitten, though. Anyway, I thought there was some pretty cool recycling ideas in here, although some border on ridiculous. Enjoy! http://www.viralnova.com/upcycled-products/

Science Museum Gift Shops

Hell should have an eighth level for owners of museum gift stores.

We went to the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences today with the kids. Just a quick plug: this is a great museum. It's free, and it offers a wide variety of educational programs for kids of all ages (at least all the way up to the age of 69, my young-at-heart mother-in-law.) The food at the onsite cafeteria, the Daily Planet, is pretty good for an on-site cafeteria, although not covered by the free admission.

Anyway …

As fascinating and engaging as this museum was (and I should mention we were there for over four hours and we still did not get to see and do everything), as early as lunch the kids were chorusing to go to the gift store. I was really reluctant to go, because I could see all kinds of disappointment in such a trip. "Well, okay, if we have time," I conceded, "as long as everyone keeps in mind that we are not buying anything. We are just looking."

"We are just looking." the kids agreed. I meant it, too. Both of my kids have rooms chockful of "souvenirs" acquired at similar gift shops, and there is reluctance to part with a single item even though many of these gifts have not been played with in years.

My kids could smile and nod, of course, because even if my lips said, "No, no," my mother-in-law would never let them down. And they were, of course, correct. But this blog is about my overindulgence, not my kids'; that's a topic for another blog.

That said, there were a couple of the items that were awfully hard to turn my back on. First off, there was the Moon Light:

Now, why did I find this so appealing? I always like moon objects, and I like lights (they make me feel cheerful.) I found myself thinking, "Well, I have that $20 I got from my aunt for my birthday …"

But then I asked myself, "But how often would I actually use this?" I thought about the fact that I have a salt lamp at home that I almost never use unless I make a conscious decision to do so (I'm an adult and have no need for a nightlight), and while it was more expensive than this moon lamp, it's also a lot more attractive. I don't need another piece of plastic gathering dust in my room. And if I had the option of coming back to the museum next week, would I actually buy it? Probably not. Pure impulse buy.

The next item was a little harder to walk away from:

Not to sound like a teenaged girl with a unicorn fetish, I have a superstitious fascination with rainbows. Although I know it sounds silly, I tend to think of rainbows as being a good omen … and whether it is coincidence or not, usually good things have happened after I've seen rainbows. Secondly, it is solar-powered! How cool is that? And here I have a nice southern-facing glass door at home, and $20 burning a hole in my pocket …

But I resisted. This is a cool item, and yes, I probably would buy it if I had a week to think about it. But it cost more than $20 -- it cost $30. And while I could certainly spring for the additional $10, and while it would give me pleasure, and it would not sit around and go unappreciated … it's still a thing. A thing with the potential to clutter my house. A thing made of plastic that had to be transported from God knows where, and that I don't need. There's my New Year's resolution and the principles of the thing.

So I was tempted and came out strong. But while I can appreciate that the gift shop does allow the museum to operate at no cost to its visitors, I can see that I'll need to be more careful what stores I idly wander into. But before I get too proud of myself, a reality check -- we are only 20 days into the new year.

On Target

Today was the first time I've been to Target since the new year. I had a list of things we needed -- washcloths and a bathmat (to replace holey versions of the same), paint for my son's pinewood derby car, and rubber matting to try to keep our washing machine from "walking". That's what I came for, and that's what I walked out with -- nothing more, nothing less. I even remembered to bring my shopping bags.

Of course, to make sure I stay on track, I brought a list, which, admittedly, as usual, I left in the car. I started bringing shopping lists for Target because there is something about that place … maybe it is the overwhelming distraction of all that STUFF, but without a list, as soon as I walk through those doors I forget what it was I was there to buy (except for the urgent need that got me there in the first place.) Instead, I would get distracted by other things that I thought I needed; not stuff like vases or home decorations or candy -- my mind doesn't usually run that way -- but the latest Stephanie Plum book, or a treat for the kids, or, Wow! I haven't had Count Chocula since I was a kid! Or, hey, we could use another slotted spoon, or another bottle for the seltzer dispenser, or "you know, I could really use that." Those little things (even if discounted) add up, though, and I would consider a trip a success if I got out of there without spending more than $100. And a lot of these things, despite the best intentions, are never or rarely used because I don't have time, or it wasn't as good as I remembered, or the kids are overwhelmed with toys (although I can usually make time to read a Stephanie Plum book.)

So I started making lists to try to keep myself on track. Usually these lists were made as soon as we realized we had an urgent need that required a trip to Target, so they were written under duress ("Is there anything else we need? I know I'm forgetting something.") It was so impromptu that it was not uncommon for my husband to call me en route ("Oh, I just remembered, we need …"), or for us to get there and realize, "Oh, we really could use another slotted spoon." Also, it was so easy to forget the list in the car; I even tried giving my daughter the job of bringing the list, then she would forget it. We would realize that the list was forgotten when we got into the store, but I was always sure I could remember everything on it. So, in other words, back where we started.

This year we started something new. In the spirit of thinking about purchasing an item for a week, we have added a "Christiansburg" shopping list to our refrigerator (Target, Home Depot, Lowes, Petsmart, and the mall are all located in shopping centers in a common area on the edge of Christiansburg.) Instead of going to Christiansburg every time we need something now, we add that item to the list. The binding on the bathmat started coming off (in kind of a big way, actually) -- put it on the list! I noticed that I couldn't find any washcloths in the linen closet, and the ones I could find had holes -- add them to the list!

Once at Target, there were, of course, a number of decisions to make. I could have gone with less expensive washcloths and bathmat, but they would not have lasted as long. Since the driving force behind this experiment was to reduce consumption (not to save money), buying a pack of cheap washcloths for $9 (on sale) would have been cheaper, but they wouldn't have lasted as long (resulting in another trip to Target down the road.) Instead, I bought seven durable washcloths at $4.50 each in hopes that they will last for years, rather than months. Another predicament with the washcloths was that the ones I was replacing have matching towels that are still in good shape. There is no way I could match the towels to new washcloths in the same color, so I went with white -- white goes with everything, and will look sharp in contrast with our dark-colored towels. That said, I doubt any of our guests really care how the washcloths look with our towels.

I did allow myself to splurge a little on the bathmat, though. I could have bought one identical to the one I was replacing for $9.99, but I purchased one I thought would be more durable for $17.99 (down from $19.99); in addition to looking more durable, it is labelled as machine-washable.

All and all, though, I was in and out of Target in ten minutes (and most of that time was spent in line. The total was well under $100 (even with the paintbrushes and paint), so a successful trip any way you look at it.

In this case, however, since the items I am replacing are in bad shape, I don't think I can recycle or donate them. Does anyone have recommendations on places that accept old cotton materials and possibly old bathmats for recycling? Or, better yet, is there something I can use them for?

Community Dynamics

In "Chapter 11: Community Dynamics" of Barbara Kingsolver's book Flight Behavior, Kingsolver's financially strapped protagonist, Dellarobia, meets Leighton Akins at a butterfly migration site that has miraculously appeared on her farm in rural Tennessee. Akins is trying to get visitors to sign a "Sustainability Pledge" to improve the environment, and Dellarobia finally asks him what it covers.

"Number one. Bring your own Tupperware to a restaurant for leftovers, as often as possible."

"I've not eaten at a restaurant in over two years."

As Akins runs through his list, it becomes clear that many of the items on the list Dellarobia is doing already -- like shopping at thrift stores because she can't afford to buy things first-hand -- or she isn't doing because she can't afford to (like buying a low-emission vehicle.) This chapter gave me pause, because I never thought about sustainability through the lens of poverty. I'm not sure why -- when I was a kid growing up, we went through a rough patch, and the majority of my clothes were hand-me-downs from my mother's friends or purchased at a second-hand shop. Nothing went to waste -- if the weeds in the garden were edible, we ate them. On the other hand, sometimes financial constraints keep the poor from being the best stewards: if you have a fully functional old electric heater, it may not be very environmentally friendly, but a more fuel-efficient heater may be beyond your reach, financially speaking.

Anyway, I guess my point is, it shouldn't have to take green to be green, if you know what I mean. Environmentalism should be accessible to more than just the upper class. In an ideal world, green technologies would be affordable for all. Until then, however, if enough of us do our part -- no matter how inconsequential it may seem on its own -- maybe we can make a difference.

New Beginnings: New Years Resolutions

While I was at the beach in 2013, I went to a bookstore in Buxton, NC, and purchased Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project, which chronicles her quest to improve her life. Over the course of her quest to find the secret of happiness, she did a significant amount of research on what made other people happy, then selected a number of likely contenders to incorporate into her life each month for a year. For example, in April, she tried to "Lighten Up", or take herself less seriously; she started off with playing an April Fool's joke on her kids, then she started singing in the morning (much to her daughters' amusement), attempted to reduce her yelling, and to acknowledge other people's feelings. In the book, she stresses that the contenders she chose were those she thought would personally have the highest rate of success, and that anyone else who attempted their own Happiness Project would need to select their own happiness factors to pursue.

A couple of her factors resonated with me, however. In May, she decided to try to start a collection and ended up starting two, but in the end, she concluded, "On the note of collections, I'm sure they're fun for others, but I simply don't want to store, clean, and maintain more things." In 2010, we moved from a relatively large house to a medium-small-sized house because we had rooms that were underutilized and it seemed like a waste to heat and maintain them; on the flip side, in our new house, our basement is full of stuff that we moved but rarely used; our bedrooms are similarly cluttered. These aren't collections (except in the loosest sense), but I understood what she meant about how our stuff can take up precious space. In July, her goal was to "Buy Some Happiness"; specifically, she forced herself to "indulge in a modest splurge". While I wouldn't consider myself an avid shopper, I have to admit, buying things does provide me with a small amount of pleasure; it doesn't even need to be something for me -- I derive satisfaction simply buying birthday gifts on Amazon -- but it is amazing how many items I buy for myself that end up unused on the shelf, in the closet, or even on the floor. I'm not a hoarder, but I'll buy something on impulse (a book, some nail polish) that I never have time to use. These two happiness factors in concert led me to consider: how much of this stuff do I really need?

One thing that has been a quiet (or maybe not-so-quiet) obsession of mine over the past seven years are environmental issues. My son has asthma, my daughter has allergies, so initially I was concerned primarily with the particulates in the air; I started riding my bike to work (to reduce emissions), using less energy (we live in an area where coal is the major fuel for providing electricity), and became more aware of the impacts of local industry. But when you are riding a bike or walking, you also start to notice other aspects of environmental corruption, such as water pollution, litter, and the impact of urban development. I started becoming more aware of what I was feeding my family and my kids, looking for organic and more nutritious foods. I even tried to develop a website to share some of the things ordinary people could do to improve their environment, but I never had time to make it take off. I also started following other environmental websites on Facebook, and created a page on Facebook called "Green-Eyed Jack" where my friends and I share environmental news we find on the web.

One item that I shared was a link to an article on the Mother Nature Network called "The Seven Stones of Simpler Living". The very first stone was "Reduce Your Consumption". As author Chris Baskind put it, "Anyone who thinks they can shop their way to greener living has been watching too much television. Sure, responsible consumerism matters. Every purchase is a choice. But the key to simpler, greener living is pretty straightforward: consume less." Baskind recommends a one week rule: if you want something, don't buy it on impulse; wait a week and see if you are as gung ho about that item, and only then consider buying it.

But then the thought crossed my mind: Could I go a whole year without purchasing anything aside from the bare necessities? If so, how would it impact my life? Of course, this also begs the question: how does someone discriminate a bare necessity from a useful want? And what impact would living like this have on my life?

I figured I would need to put together some guidelines, or I might quickly fail:

1. For now, this does not extend to shopping for others. Presents for birthdays and Christmas, donating to charity -- these are still acceptable expenditures. I could not, however, buy presents for myself.

2. Necessities encompass items we really cannot live without: food, parts for the car, medicine, etc.

3. Clothing is a necessity, but only if I am replacing something that is too ragged or ill-fitting for regular wear. When something new enters my closet, something old needs to go out.

4. Activities (like going to the movies, which we rarely do) are acceptable, provided that no material goods are acquired as a result of this activity.

5. Our planned renovation of the basement may require the purchase of additional things, such as flooring, drywall, and maybe some furniture. Although this should be done with as much reuse as possible, items purchased to help with the renovation are not included under this consumption ban.

6. I would write this blog to chronicle my successes (and failures) to keep myself on track.

Now, admittedly, we just celebrated Christmas, and next week is my birthday, so this resolution may not seem like a real challenge for a few weeks, but here, on the second day of January, it looks doable. And, maybe, as I get better at consuming less, I can start working on the other six "stones of simpler living".

References

Baskind, Chris. "The seven stones of simpler living", Mother Nature Network website, May 06 2010. http://www.mnn.com/lifestyle/responsible-living/stories/the-seven-stones-of-simpler-living .

Rubin, Gretchen. The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun. HarperCollins, 2009. Website: http://gretchenrubin.com