No Problem

What do I do with the cream of tartar?

That may seem like a silly question for most of the world, but I am putting all my spices into small Ziploc bags and I have chosen the ones I will use. I threw away items like Garam Masala, which I haven't used since my Indian cooking stint back in '98. I have kept all the italian herbs and spicy peppers, but now I am sitting here dazed, looking at my last can in the spice cabinet.

Cream of Tartar.

Now I have it for 2 purposes, making homemade play dough and royal icing for cookies. Will I have the chance to do either of these things while we camp for the next year? Will that be a priority? What if the kids are bored and I whip up some play dough just for fun... Will I do that? Or will I just go and buy the play dough for 99 cents at the market? We won't be making any cookies anytime during the trip, that is unless of course any of you have any tips to bake cookies in a Dutch oven. I feel so stuck on this decision, I have decided to take a break from making one, to blog today.

It is Thursday. I am leaving for a month long trip to California on Saturday after 3 hours of soccer. That means I have 2 days left to finish packing up the house, sorting out what we will need for the month of December and putting it in our guest house, where we will live for a few weeks when we get back, (for those of you who don't know, we have to come back to Seattle for the month of December to tie up loose ends, such as the close of the house, leaving notice at husband work, taxes and planning our first destination. The big trip starts the beginning of January.) and pack for the month long trip to visit my family, go to Disneyland and stop off in San Luis Obispo where I am getting the Eurovan suped up with a roof rack to add storage, a bike rack for our 4 bikes, and add a few more items to create a better suited home for four at a great place called Go Westy. Researching from dealers to Ebay, Go Westy was the ONLY place that said, "No problem!" See, you are not supposed to have a roof rack on the Winnebago pop-top. So it seems to make most folks out there stumble a bit.

Have I told you how much I LOVE people who say, "no problem" ? I do. After remodeling 2 homes and dealing in the world where I never can seem to find what I had in mind already made, I have learned to love those who say, no problem. I don't care, if it costs more. I don't care if it will take some time. I don't care if they need to order a part for another part of the world and do their best to jimmy-rig it to make it work. I love no problem!!!

No problem is a way of life. The people who speak it have an aura about them that brings a sense of peace into the world. They are not reading scripts, they are not going by the book, they are confident in their abilities, and they do not understand the concept of I can't. Some countries say it regularly. In Mexico, "no problema, seniora." In Austraila they say, "no worries."

Sounds like a movement. Maybe it could hit our country big. Make bumper stickers that say, 'My way of life is No Problem' or 'No Problem and NoWorries' or 'Just say No Problem' or 'No Problem = Problem Solving.'

So I look at the cream of tartar again and tell myself to put it in the Ziploc bag realizing how little space it is going to take and say, "No problem."

Letting Go and Gathering Things

This is the last weekend of our big everything-is-going-before-we-move-out-of-our-home sale.

It will be interesting to see what we are left with. Originally, we were saving quite a bit of items. The children's bedroom sets, our bedroom set, BBQ. But we have realized as time has gone on, that these are all just "things." Every "thing" is a thing that is replaceable or we can live without.
Letting go of one "thing," led the way to letting go of another "thing."
Letting go of the dining room set, led the way to letting go of the rugs. Letting go of the wheelbarrow, led the way to letting go of the workbench. Letting go of our nightstands, led the way to letting go of our bed. On and on, until we felt free. Free to say, we really don't need to save any of it.
Free to say... Free to sell... Free to go...

There just aren't words for the intense feelings of letting go of your belongings. I have cried, laughed, or just been excited by a sale. I have felt pure release. Release of old ideas, of old purposes, of old goals. How did these ideas, purposes and goals get attached to "things?" Strange, but now, as time grows short before we move out of our house, I feel calmer, much more relaxed. It must be some kind of Zen experience.

I think how much we are taxed and burdened by our things. To collect them, we use the energy of work to buy them, or they are given to us, or found. Then we must find a place to keep them, more energy of work to prop them up, or nail them on a wall or keep them in boxes and store them.

Then we feel them. We think about them in the back of our minds.

They might be worth a lot of money or heartfelt value and we feel responsible to keep them well, safe and like new. We worry they might get broken or damaged or worn. We tell or yell at the children to be careful around them. We may choose to use our energy to work to make the money to insure them. We may feel anxiety or stress or cry if we lose or break them.

They might not be worth anything, yet we feel them looming in boxes, closets and storage and we tell ourselves "One day I am going to go through all these things!"

Or they may be utilitarian and we see them everyday, month or year and after using them we clean them, and store them. We repair them and keep them looking good and working good.

Then there is the vanity of things. You know what I am talking about. I don't want a white t-shirt. I want a t-shirt that is from Nordstrom, or Talbots, or the Gap. I don't want silverware, I want silverware from William-Sonoma, or Macy's or Pottery Barn. I don't want a car, I want a car that tells people I have tons of money to spend. I know this. I have done this, and I am not really sure why. I understand that some items are just a better quality, but a lot of them are not. They are all made in China. They are all made by someone who can't afford to buy these things for themselves. This vanity can make us feel superior, or just plain guilty. I have honestly felt both ways.

Whether we believe it, or see it, or feel it, every single thing we own, is a responsibility to us, large or small, whether the thing is of great use or just a burden. In our country we are so laden with things. We have huge garages, walk-in closets, walk-in pantries, huge kitchens, huge linen closets, coat closets, and storage units. There are reality shows that teach people how to get rid of their things. There are professionals who will come in and organize your things. And we, a young family of four, have had an on-going moving sale for the past 4 weeks and still have a room-full and garage-full of tons of things. I wonder how people would feel if they could keep every item in their house, but just cleared out the attic or basement. Cleared out the items that you are saving because it is worth something to your heart, or you think you might sell if for a fortune on day, or you are saving it for the holiday that comes once a year.

As a woman, I understand the strong force of the "gathering" instinct. As the colder weather comes, I start to feel a push to go out and shop. Even now, as I am getting rid of most everything I own, I have had to stop myself from shopping for clothes, sheets, dishes, blankets. We have all these things, but my need to gather is strong. I broke down and bought a beautiful smelling candle. How many times do we re-buy blankets, decorations, clothes before we have worn out what we already have? We have gotten rid of 3 sets of sheets, and still have 3 sets left. Who needs 6 sets of sheets? The gathering force does not care for logical thought. Like clockwork once a year, since we have had a king sized bed, I have been compelled to gather new sheets. "Stay warm" the ancient voice tells me, get ready for winter...

Maybe we could try to stop. Maybe we could try to tell ourselves we have enough. Maybe the next time we instinctively buy sheets, we drop them off at the local shelter. Or better yet, maybe we stop and look around at our overwhelming stock of abundance, and tell ourselves to save the money that it took energy to work for, and clear out half of our closets and donate them to the local shelter. They are still gathering. They are worried about winter coming. For them, it is a matter of survival.

Time and Space

Yes, I am up at 4 in the morning. So much to do at this point, it is hard to believe we are moving out of our house in 2 weeks and 4 days! Time is running short and our days are running long.

Time to give homage to the almighty caffeine!

This was a big weekend. We picked up the van. We drove it home from Olympia and dropped the Mercedes off at the new owner's house in Seattle. Together, as a family, we got in our new 2000 Winnebago Eurovan and took the ferry home. It felt strange. My husband and I looked at each other with dazed eyes and smiling faces while we realized that we were in our new home. We were driving our new home to our old home.

My older son didn't like it at first and stated very clearly that he wanted to keep the old car. That ended day 2 when I popped up the top and let the boys take a few snacks and pillows up there to play. They were giggling and having a blast. He also seems to like that he has his own reading light in the back seat that he can leave on while I drive at night. This boy spends little time doing much else, than read. I am always surprised that he can read in the car, for hours. Car sickness has always prevented me from riding in the back seat, looking at a map in the front seat, let alone read a book.
All I have to say is Thank Goodness!

The van is great. I think it is still sinking in. Looking at the 2 burner propane stove, small sink, mini frig, one drawer and one cabinet and realizing it all has to fit in there. That is my kitchen. Just a small change from the 48" Sub Zero, 36" cooktop, 22 drawers, 16 cabinets and an appliance garage of my current one.

When we brought the van to the pool, where our homeschool group has swim lessons, all our friends came out to see it and a friend asked, "Does it have an oven?" My heart sank. I love to bake. "I am getting a Dutch oven," I tell her. Another friend asked, "How about a potty?" (If you are wondering, it is a well known fact that "potty" is the official name of a toilet, bathroom, or restroom of parents across America. I think it has to do with the bestseller, "Once Upon a Potty" or it could be the other 10443 other books I found at Amazon.com.) I am still in denial about not having a potty. "They will have them at the campground," I tell her.

It was fun to show it to our friends and have them inspect it. Kind of like a housewarming party. Of course, unlike our last few homes, the tour of our new one went something like this, "Here it is!"
The kids were also happy to show it off, especially my younger one, who is still convinced that we should be able to pop the top and drive. It sounds like a scientific experiment. Just another reason why 5 year olds don't drive.

So as we get sell the contents that fit our old home, and start buying the contents to fit our new home, we just keep going, trying hard not to think too much, while trying hard to sleep more, and continue to keep drinking the sweet wonderful friend of ours, caffeine.

New Vision

We found out our littlest one needed glasses. This was a shock, since no one in either family has vision problems, except in growing with age. I took him for the big appointment and except for the stinging drops that dilated his eyes, he was fine. We were the ones feeling the most traumatized. When told he has an amblyopic eye, both my husband and I went into a kind of shock of loss. You know the stages:
Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance.
It went a little like this:
1) No, he doesn't have a real eye problem, they will find out he just may need a patch to wear in the evening or they will find nothing.
2) That doctor was probably a quack! He just wants to use all his fancy toys on our son and use him as a guinea pig, then give him a prescription so he doesn't look bad! I don't think we can trust him!
3) Of course this isn't going to be permanent. He will probably just wear them for a year and his eyes will return to normal.
4) Was it all the coffee I drank while pregnant with him? Why didn't I check on this last year? It has to be my fault somewhere in this.
5) He looks so cute in those glasses! Let's get him another pair for sports!

My son, of course, is fine with it, especially now that he can see better. He keeps slipping them down his nose to look over them, and then happily pushes them back up, when he realizes that they really do work. His first pair were the Magic-Clip dark metallic blue frames that have magnetic clip-on sunglasses that he said made him look like a rock star. We went back for the sports glasses (that look a little like swimming goggles) and he said he feels like a superhero in them. The best part is we feel comfortable letting him wear them during soccer, on the trampoline and wrestling with big brother.
It is nice to have that taken care of.


This was our biggest week of sales so far. We sold our dining room table, sofa table, canoe, weight set, lamps etc... I am not sure what it is, but with each major item sold, I feel like I need time to process the change. Interestingly enough, I am allowing for that without apology. Now some people may say, its just "stuff" and, of course, we can replace it when we need it. But I am staying true to my heart and realizing that it is more than that.

There is a subtle pressure in our society to "settle down" and make a nice home for yourself, really nice. Our whole nation seems to be caught up in a remodeling and designing frenzy that could be compared to the Victorian Era. We were caught up in it. After we finally bought our first home in Edmonds back in 2001, I thought, this house is cute. We don't have to do much. But looking at the aluminum, rental-like blinds that filled the house bugged us both, being new homeowners. So new blinds were in order, which turned into research that only real wood blinds that matched the trim would be the only option for the best trendy rich look that will never go out of style. "A great investment," sales people would tell me at the window covering stores, "Any improvement you make will come back to you when you sell." So we bought that idea as well as the blinds for the entire house.

Now, at this time, we had no idea that we would ever sell that house. I remember we used to sit in the backyard that had wind breaking Poplar trees that lined the neighbor's property with ours. They made such a beautiful rustling sound in the wind. We used to sit on the grass in the middle of our small back yard and talk about how happy we were, how much we loved our little 1400 square foot home, and how we can see staying there until the kids have grown. "Perfect," we used to call it.

It was perfect until the day we were installing our newly-ordered cherry stained wood blinds. One month after purchasing the home, one of the previous owners came knocking on our door. We had befriended the previous owners, against our realtor's advice (never talk to the people you are in a contract with, he told us- though we found out it was because he had lied to pressure us into a full price offer).
With 2 boys, slightly older, they seemed so much like us and very nice and down to earth. They had only moved a couple miles away into downtown Edmonds, which is closer to the water and the view of the Olympic Mountains. So the wife came knocking on our door with a serious look on her face and pulled me outside to talk. She asked if my 3 year old was playing with the neighbor boy, who was five. "Of course," I told her. She then told me, she thought they were too far apart in age and that she never dreamed they would play together and that it must stop immediately. "Why?" I asked.

This is when perfect turned into nightmare as I found out the story of molestation by another neighbor boy, who also had been molested, though she didn't know by who. She told me that my neighbor boy had inappropriate behaviors and that I needed to watch him at all times when playing with my boys. It was then that I asked her for the truth. "Is this why you moved out of this house?" Her face twisted in anxiety, hesitating, but she had the decency to answer honestly. To say, "Yes."

That was it. We had to move. I was obsessed with the Snohomish County's Sheriff's online sexual predator information list and I found a safer area to move to (though you never really can know). We found a home right away. We rented our first home knowing that we would lose money if we sold it right away and moved into our new home within 11 months, 10 months after we heard the bad news.

The second home was ugly. Not much to speak of, only the view of the water. We were in the "right" neighborhood, in the ugliest house for blocks. "We can fix it up," I told my husband. So we worked for 2 years painting, removing, replacing, crashing walls, adding windows, sweating, laughing, yelling, crying, and finally adding the granite and stainless as pieces de resistance. We were done.
We sent a Christmas card to our Home Depot.
We thought for a short time we might stay in the house, but when we found out how much more money our house was worth (in only 2 short years) and how we no longer enjoyed this remodeled house (that was filled with stressed and toiled memories), and with a trip to Bainbridge Island, we decided to sell it and our first house and move on.

So here we are on Bainbridge with the thought that we had finally found our place to settle down. We were serious this time. Everything about the house, the location, the neighbors and the community was perfect. We did choose to remodel the house to make it even more perfect. Then came time to pick the furnishings. Never before had we spent so much time buying the perfect furniture to go with our perfect new life in our perfect new house. Each one matched the walls, the wood, and the motif. Each one was made well, and was sized to fit perfectly.

Now, as each item is sold and taken away, those ideas and energies are also sold and taken away leaving an empty space.

I breathe...

We have sold perfect and replaced it with ideals. Like our son, we found out we also had vision problems, and similarly with his new glasses, new vision has come to us as each space is left empty. We stop and release the past... and see clearer towards our future.