January: Books are Closed

Or, how prepare turned into organize: It began with preparing for the year to come, or what is yet to be seen. If my living space is organized and reduced, chances are my mind is likewise (reduced in clutter, not brain cells). I notice I am better when my surroundings are comfortable, useful, and pretty.

1. Things I ran through and then donated: closet, jewelry drawer, dresser, books, kitchen (compiled linens all together, let go of almost new stuff I have never used), cds, beauty products.
2. Asked my roommate if I could have one of the two large cupboards in our tiny hallway (She has lived in this apt for many more moons than I and they are full). Put in the three shelves: blankets, towels/sheets, sewing tools.
3. Purchased several more plastic bins for the storage unit out back. Purchased a labelmaker.
4. iTunes: put every cd I wanted to have on my computer and organized in iTunes (who would have guessed I had so much opera? Not I). Donated cds I don't want to keep physically (which cleared a whole drawer in my vanity . . . yes, I keep cds, desk supplies, camera supplies, and craft supplies in the vanity. All is vanity). Kept those I did (in plastic bin in storage with all photos).
5. Beauty sleep: did my best with the startling magnitude of beauty products I have acquired. Resolved to buy no more for the time being. I will buy mascara if I need it. I will not buy body cream/lotion/butter/souffle for many moons.
6. I wrote down the quilts I'm working on. Before, these bubbled. Now, I see what is currently on the table (no wonder I feel buried in fabric). Some of these projects are at my mother's house. I have dual citizenship for storage. Also in the works is a quilt for Victoria who married over one year ago. I sewed Yellow Brick Road blocks but don't like them and until I do, will not give the quilt to Victoria and Len. Perhaps next time I visit mother they will have changed their appeal.

Quilts in Progress

• Spiderweb: cutting background fabric from templates; 30 more pie pieces to sew; 130 finished.
• Maison Garence Charm: have fabric; need to start nine-patches and cutting down charm squares.
• Green Garden: learning to freehand machine quilt; ready to put on the machine.
• Americana Exchange: making 18 house blocks to exchange in September, planning own personal blocks.
• Thistle Thicket: choosing fabric.

End of the month: I have more floor space around my vanity stool (previously housed stacks). I love looking in my hall cupboard: the sewing tool shelf is especially comely (more space for air than the others). The closet floor is better in a few areas (I have a large closet with four sliding doors . . . it is the only big thing in my apartment besides my bath tub) and I actually see a swath of carpet. Sometimes I leave the door to this section open to gaze upon it. The cupboard under my bathroom sink is clearer and neater. Less stuff and more order. Clean and tidy = Happy feeling.

Happiness Can Be a Project

Though I am a happy girl, I know there is room for improvement. My improving moments often find fruition in organization. I love to clean out, pare down, throw out, give away. Part of this habit stems from living in a small space for most of my adult years. I champion those who moved all their belongings in covered wagon. What would one leave home with if one was leaving their home? During our fire season a few years back, I did leave home with blankets, a notebook of recipes, and some of my grandmother's things. The rest could be replaced. Other whys of the habit feed peace of mind, allow a sparer decorating look, and as all surroundings, feed, teach, inspire one's soul. My friend Aimee told me to read The Happiness Project in perfect time for the new year. She has begun her own project, and so have I.

I have dispensed with writing Twelve Commandments (I wrote four), Four Splendid Truths, and my Secrets of Adulthood. I need more time on these (and one of my commandments is to be simple). But, I have begun to plan my year, focusing each month on one word. My January is organize. I have also planned February and March, patting myself on the back and seemingly living happily in a three-month span. By the end of this month, I will report.

Leaving the World

When you drive a while to get there, you stay. Three and a half days at the happiest place on earth. It is especially exciting when you are seven or four. When the swings are not crowded you stay on eight times until your aunt excuses herself, taken by headache or stomachache . . . it is so hard to distinguish. You tear off a ride and beg for more. You don't mind screaming at top speed and often lift your hands against the wall of air. You enjoy measuring yourself and asking if you make it. You are fascinated with Lincoln because he is a robot. You eat cotton candy and popcorn twice. You fill a tube with sour sugar. At four your most frequent question at Disneyland is, "Are we outside?" While Soaring over California you turn to inquire, "What's behind us?" By ten, you have graduated to "single rider" status on California Screamin' as you walk right on, no line. You are impressed they could think of the coolness of Autopia in 1955. You walk by drained rapids and bemoan the closure. You hold your baby brother on Small World. You are an older child.

American Girls

We knew it was a holiday and we went anyway. To the Grove. To the American Girl store. We reasoned it was better than Disneyland on a holiday. The Grove was wall to wall. The store was wall to wall. As I kept track of Bo and Taylor and Gramma on the down escalator, a presence swept by. I halted our descent, waiting for the next one to board the moving stairs. She was older, in a jeweled caftan. I turned down the stairs and saw Helena turned up, making sure her mother (?) had indeed embarked on our slope. Our eyes met. I kept her secret. Her hair was high, her face natural. I liked her immediately. But, I've always liked her. Almost without exception I embrace all British actors and she is one of my favorites. She stars in one of my favorite movies: Howards End. No, there is no apostrophe. As I reported my sighting to mother, I identified Helena as the bad woman in Harry Potter. Bellatrix. I guess that is the fate of all actors. One role, or in this case, their latest role. In her shopping bag, she had an American Girl.

Early in the Morning

I guess I'm not the only one up. I just heard a softly squeaky door and Brian's music. By my computer is 4:18 am in California. Looking out my window earlier, it is snowy white in St. George. Snow is quiet. I knew I wouldn't sleep again and the last of our company leaves at 7:30 this morning. It's been a holiday season of reunion. Donn (father's first son) and Nancy always come after Christmas. Because of father's mild stroke, Jerry (father's brother) came from Camarillo with two of his kids, Jim and Cheryl. Jerry played the role of honored elder as father is in the care center. Maysen asked if they hit him with a ping pong paddle in school. Ah, the dreaded paddle of yore. Donn, Jim, and Cheryl were among the lucky cousins, growing up together. Brian, me, and Robin came along almost a generation later; we were the only ones our age except for a few of the first-generation cousins' children. My dad's side of the family has always been old. My mother is an only child. Also making visits this Christmas are Tom (father's second son) and his family. Brian's music is off. He's either returned to slumber or taken to the shower. Last night we also welcomed Irene (one of the first-generation cousins' ex-wife) and one of our favorite people. She came for dinner with Bud (her new husband who can wear gold-yellow nicely). He thinks she is funny. Robin and I at the stove:

Me: I like Bud (all words with inflection).
Robin: I love Bud (as she fixed her gaze through the hanging pots and pans).

They were nearby visiting a daughter of Bud's. We made Grandma Lusby's Cinnamon Raisin Cookies, a recipe that is at least 160 years old. Katherine (Tom's daughter) helped us roll out and cut out and bake. It took Irene exactly 10 seconds to say, "Are those Grandma Lusby's cookies?" We shall see what the day brings. Will I venture out to cycling? What percentage of Christmas decor will we box? Will the trees come down? Will I make it to the cabin with many of them this summer? Normally when people list a series of what-if questions, they mean to say yes to them all.

Cinnamon Raisin Cookies
Gertrude Lusby via Irene Fisher

2 C sugar

1 C shortening

2 beaten eggs

2 T buttermilk or sour milk

1 1/2 t cinnamon

1 t nutmeg

1 t each of soda and salt

about 2 1/2 C sifted flour

1 C raisins put through a meat grinder ( i use a mini cuisinart)

1 C nuts, chopped fine

Roll out and cut with cookie cutter (make them bigger than your hand). Sprinkle sugar over before putting in the oven at 375 degrees F for six to eight minutes.

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