Tag Archives: family

Embracing The Declutter: Lessons from My Tupperware

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Well, as usual, great laid plans seemed to have gone a muck this week. New Year, new thoughts, new plans. Which, in my case, involved going room by room and cleaning and purging a few things. We got more stuff at Christmas, and it is time to be out with the old. And yet, here it is the middle of the week and I haven’t even got my blog post done, let alone extra deep cleaning. And the laundry? Why, oh why, is there always extra laundry? Not even extra… just regular stuff that is still not done! *Sigh* I suppose I have to be “gracious” with myself once and a while. (If you know, you know, if you don’t, read this).

However, I did get to one task last week… the Tupperware containers! We were given a big set of new (glass!) re-usable storage containers for Christmas, and I am eager to get using those, but we have a cupboard filled with mismatched, oddball, well used lunchables already that needed organizing. Our cupboard is an upper cupboard that is a full length lazy Susan… which is an okay spot for said containers, except that the top shelf is too high for me to see, and lids often get stuck over the sides, causing the lazy Susan to stick, and, well, you get it, we needed a remix.

It’s time…

Now, this minimal task didn’t take very long… I pulled everything out, wiped the shelving down, matched lid to container, stacked and put ’em all back in! Yet, it always surprises me what you end up with… where did this one come from? Did I buy this or did it some how end up in there hand me down from someone else’s goodies; or did the hubby “steal” it from work thinking it was ours? Now, you know me, I hate to waste anything, so I have saved all the take out containers, over the year, for animal feed bowls and the lids make good plant water catchers under pots. Eventually, they get cracked up and useless and need to be recycled as well. I just don’t have the counter space for them, though, so they got reduced down too.

All this to say, the task got done, and my shelves are tidy. The mismatched but still good containers got collected and have moved to the craft room… for possible use there. Yes, the craft room is on the purge list… but that is going to be a much, much bigger project!

Getting there…

As usual, the process had me a musing. How much are we like my Tupperware cupboard? We all have one of those collections. Useful, but mismatched. Each of us come in different sizes and makes. Some are sturdy glass with tight fitting, no leak lids that snap in place. Others are useful, but temporary. Easily recycled after their best efforts. Others are good, but don’t fit in with the group… they don’t nestle and stack together nicely, or they are just the wrong size, with weird lids. Perhaps stolen from another venue.

Of course, I am not talking about how people’s size or “type” are rejected, but you get the thought, right? I’m thinking about how God’s church is so diverse, and yet, each are set for their direct purposes. Our leaders are sometimes appointed for a time, but somehow get separated from their secure lids who have gone off to be plant pot protectors. Or those of us who are short lived. Useful, but made to bounce. Temporary. Others, the expensive glass — meant to last but easily shatter if not treated carefully. I love it.

All done!

Still, every now and then, God must decide He needs to clean out the cupboard. Rescue the lids who are fallen and stuck. Move the broken, recycle the cracked, and replace and re-organize. Some of us get moved to the craft room, for new lives. Others have done their jobs and are lovingly tossed in the recycle bin. I dunno. Maybe the thought is pushing it. Whatever the case, it has been very nice to swing that lazy Susan around and find exactly what I am looking for, complete with the matching lid. And if anyone messes it up, they are in trouble! Craft room… I’m coming for you. Stay tuned.

Antiques and Adventures: A Moment in Time

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Whew! Another week has flown by! Yet time is like that, isn’t it? Especially when you get older and you’re moving “downhill”, shall we say. My current update is the same as last weeks: pallets are still on the driveway, coop still needs cleaning, and we have one out of two porch rocking chairs stained. The status of these projects hasn’t changed much in seven days. We did get a few things in the barn and tidied up before the snow flies, but the leaves are still falling. It’s actually quite sunny out today and I’m not really thinking about snow at all yet. It will be here soon enough, though.

Let’s get back to fall, though, shall we? I had a beautiful fall drive the other day through the countryside to pick up our little grand baby. He’s getting so big now… will be a year in a couple months. There’s time flying again. Really flying when you think of all the milestones a little one goes through in a year. From helpless newborn to walking, talking toddler, to helpless teenager again. Did I say that out loud? Ooops. Nevermind. I suppose we can say that time certainly doesn’t stop for anyone on this journey through our earth exsistance.

Anyway… back to my fall drive. The colours were fabulous. Golden hues mixed with brown undertones, a clear, blue sky and a winding road through little rural towns decorated with orange pumpkins and the odd farm stand of weathered wood and hand drawn signs. Post card perfect. Even for the end of the season. Once car seats were switched and snacks were handed out, I headed off home again. Grand baby and I stopped at an antique shop on the way, just to break up the journey. I was a little nervous taking a baby through a narrow aisled shoppe filled with old glass jars and pottery, especially one in an old dairy barn with a cracked (and slanted) floor. He’s a little angel though, and happily ate his cheese bagel in the stroller as I dodged in and out of the booths checking price tags.

Antiques are a funny thing. I don’t claim to be an “antique-r” but I love to look. Why do we pay so much for something so old? I’m a sucker for mason jars, and have a large collection. Still, I stop and look at the price of every jar filled with marbles. I have no idea why. I also wander through such places and think, “if I put that old window frame up on my wall, it is certainly gonnna look weird and not at all like that one in the magazine”. I even have the old century farmhouse now where such things are expected… but my decorating skills are not anywhere near the magazine people. And so I wander through antique barns checking price tags like I know what I am doing.

At the very last booth, however, I did discover two little ceramic birds. I have been craving these for some time now. They aren’t even antiques, likely. I’ve seen similar in those potpourri gift shoppe places. The price tag always deters me. These birdies, however, had a price tag on the bottom of $5.00! So, I hummed and hawed for a second, do I need them? They are a good price, so I wandered off with them to the counter.

My new little “vintage” birdies

I chit chatted with the guy about the weather, these little birds, and how I had been looking for a pair, and how cute grand baby was with cheese bagel stuffed face. He tells me they were $5.56 total. I originally thought they were $5 EACH. So, I am very sorry, nice antique guy, but I didn’t say a single thing, nor question your final price, except that we still had a bit left over for coffee … and I bubbled inside that I now had a great deal (It was mixed with a little guilt I didn’t question him, I’ll admit it! But that’s on the store owner right? The price tags were clearly labelled…)

I suppose at this point, I should muse about being honest. Perhaps speaking truth. Perhaps how our glorious Creator gives us the fall season to rejoice in. Okay, I’ve mentioned all of those things. Yet my thinking originally lead me to “time” for this post. An antique store certainly makes you question time. You literally look at pieces of history from a time past: glass mason jars for canning or marble collections. Movie posters and antique record albums. Rusty farm tools. Real wood furniture, pottery crocks, milk crates and bottles. Baskets, fur coats and license plates. Pieces in time.

My little birds are perhaps “vintage” but likely not real antique. I don’t think they serve any purpose besides sitting on a shelf to make me smile. Still, they will remind me of when a bagel eating grand baby was with me, and how he’s growing so fast. How warm the sun was on that day, and how I need to get going on those porch chairs. How God gives us limited time. Yet, for every waking minute and second of that time, He watches over us, as He does the tiny sparrow. And only He knows when our time is up. When His plan for us is complete and time will move forward with others stepping up to the plate.

Do you love an antique shop, my friend? Or do you love a modern coffee shop and bagel? Either way, it’s an outing with a friend. Or a grand baby. Or a spouse. Or a parent. This week, I’m reminded that time is special. Preserve and cherish it. For not unlike the price tags of antiques, the cost is usually high, but if you get a deal, don’t say too much: Just enjoy it.

Unpacking the Laundry: Silly Sock Insights from Everyday Life

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Welcome back to another musing about seemingly ordinary things that lead to the extra ordinary thought of the week. The weather has certainly been getting cooler. I can’t believe that soon the snow will fly and I’ll be writing about getting stuck in snow drifts again. We closed up the pool for another season… I say “we”, but the hubby did most of the work. We just pulled and secured the tarp. It took less time this year than last, so we must be improving our technique. My pallets are still sitting on the driveway. I did finish staining the porch pew and a chair (one to go!) this week, though. I say, do you have to rake leaves if you live in the country and nobody really cares about your lawn? Sigh. So many mundane things to do.

One of those is the never ending laundry pile. Why? Why do we have so much laundry? There are four adult people living in this house. The dog rarely makes any extra laundry. Why are there so many towels? Who is using pool towels when the pool hasn’t been used for weeks? Nevertheless, the goal this weekend was to get through the piles (and piles) of laundry. I didn’t count how many loads we did, but the machines were running non-stop. We finally fluffed, folded and put away the laundry! Gold star!

Who is still using the beach towels?!

How come we don’t give out gold stars on chore charts for adult households? Perhaps we should implement that as acceptable once again. Bonus points for matching the sock bag. I have a “sock bag” where all the lost socks get dumped. This weekend I purged the sock bag once again in an attempt to get those bonus laundry points. Am I alone in this? Why do we keep mis-matched socks until they die? Most are perfectly good socks. Some in that bag are not good at all, and they are likely in that bag because I have tossed the holey partner long ago. I am sure there is a sock in that bag from when my youngest was about five years old… it certainly is cute but won’t fit anyone. For some unknown reason, I put it back in the bag.

Now, I am all for reuse and recycle, and believe you me, I have searched lots of ideas for single socks… but who wants a sock puppet to take to school when you are eighteen and the sock is a nylon dress sock with pink flamingos flocking it? The eldest of our kids has a sock obsession. She has a sock with every character, food group and funky colour. She no longer lives at home and the flamingo socks do not belong to her. I rest my case.

Still, I promised supernatural from the mundane… which leads to this week’s musing. As I sat on the living room floor surrounded by my mismatched sock collection, I thought about God up in heaven sorting out all His people. Have you ever thought about God’s collection of people? Some are “holier” than others. Some colourful. Some fuzzy, some knee high long, some short ankle sock with sports logos. Some are practical and keep you warm. Others are nylon with pink flamingos that are all fad. Like socks, we often get separated in the wash. We loose touch with those who are like us. We start out as a great pair, or a complete package of ten pair, fresh and new from Christmas morning, ready to last all year.

The Lost Sock Bag

Then. We get grass stained, dripped on, sweaty and overworked. Stretched out to the point where our elastics fail and we slide down inside the winter boots of life – defeated. Or tossed aside in the lost sock bag. For some of us, that’s the end. We’ve done our job to its fullest and God says, it’s okay, it’s your time to go now, let a fresh pair take over that stinky job. Or like that five year old’s pink sock, you get put back in the bag because although your job may be done, you are celebrated for the memories and make a mom smile at what was once. It’s a funny feeling when you find a bunch of matches in that pile, though. The adrenaline rush of the housewife who finds a full cotton pair of sports sock with not only similar stripes but the same stripes and logo on heel and toe! Those socks get put in the keep pile with big plans for a full day of toe tapping work ahead!

I know, it’s a silly muse. Socks. Faith journeys. Everyday life. Yet, it’s real. It’s a thing we can all relate to, and I hope that you’ll take a second look at who you’ve been perfectly matched with, and know that that person was hand picked out of the pile for you. And if you are still waiting in the bag, your time will come. Or if your time has come, know that you will be remembered for your crazy flamingo memories and your cozy winter morning snuggles. Happy laundry day, everyone.