I've been experimenting with some homemade household and personal care products and thought I'd review the results thus far.
Liquid Laundry Soap: While making this soap my husband said he felt like he was living a page out of "Little House on the Prairie." But so far, it seems to work just fine. I tried it out on diapers first, because, well, that seemed like a good test of cleaning power. They passed the test. Since then we've used it for everything else and I have no complaints. I used Fels Naptha instead of Ivory soap (see link for recipe) since my mom swears by it as a stain fighter (and I agree).
Dishwashing Powder: I was excited about this recipe since I don't know what is in conventional powders and liked how simple it was to make. But...I've had mixed results. Bottom line, the dishes do not get as clean as they do with Cascade-style detergents. I mainly notice the difference on my coffee cups, which retain some coffee residue after I run the dishwasher (not just coffee stains, but stuff that I can wipe off with my finger). Also, some, but not all, of the dishes seem to have residue/film from the powder itself. I will tinker with the recipe before I abandon it, but I was a little disappointed.
Baking Soda Anti-perspirant: No recipe here, just a little baking soda brushed or patted on to your pits! A makeup brush or powder puff works well. I was skeptical, but I LOVE it! Anti-perspirants have never worked for me, and they contain more chemicals than I want to put on my body anyway. So I've been using Tom's of Maine natural, unscented deodorant for a long time and like it, but notice some B.O. by the end of the day. And, unfortunately, I'm a pit-sweater. I don't sweat a lot otherwise, but the pits get pretty moist. The baking soda keeps me drier than any anti-perspirant I've tried, and I have practically no B.O. And it's so cheap! It will probably take me a year or so to go through a $0.95 box. It may not work for everyone: my husband has reported skin irritation from the baking soda, which seems surprising to me, but the armpit does seem to be a sensitive area for some.
Vinegar: For just about anything. I've had success with it as a rinse agent in both the dishwasher and washing machine, and as a general cleaner (diluted with water). There are tons of websites devoted to the virtues of vinegar and baking soda.
When my shampoo runs out I'm going to try a new hair-cleaning regimen: pure vegetable oil bar soap followed by a dilute vinegar rinse. I'll report the results when I have them!
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Off the Wagon
May has been a little tough, not for any significant external reason, but mainly due to my own lack of resolve. I have an unfortunate habit of failing to follow through with ideas and projects, and I am determined not to let that happen with respect to my simpler living goals. I don't think of living more simply as a thing I am doing, but as a way of being.
So what went wrong this month?
For one thing, the weather has improved — which is great — and as a consequence I took advantage of more outdoor activities with my daughter. Often these were spur-of-the-moment: friend calls, says, "Hey, I'm going to the park for an hour, want to join me?" Saying yes often meant committing to driving since a bus trip or long walk requires prior planning and extra time. But saying no just on the principle of driving less would feel like an unnecessary sacrifice, like deprivation — which is counter to the goal of simple living. Living simply is supposed to make one feel more fulfilled, not less. And so, somewhat guiltily, I've been driving more than I'd like. I'm really not sure how to allow for spontaneity, when walking or busing necessitates planning ahead.
I also found myself eating out more this past month. Let me rephrase: I chose to eat out more this month — because it is about choices, after all. Why? Disorganization around meal planning, extra activities (see above) that cut into food prep time, out-of-town guests, laziness, feeling the urge to indulge...pick any or all of the above for any given dining excursion. And then there's the snowball effect: if I've already been "bad" and eaten out when I really shouldn't have, I (illogically) figure that the damage has been done and I might as well do it again. And again. Sort of like falling off the diet wagon.
Who knew that living simply would require so much discipline? Shouldn't it be simple?
So what went wrong this month?
For one thing, the weather has improved — which is great — and as a consequence I took advantage of more outdoor activities with my daughter. Often these were spur-of-the-moment: friend calls, says, "Hey, I'm going to the park for an hour, want to join me?" Saying yes often meant committing to driving since a bus trip or long walk requires prior planning and extra time. But saying no just on the principle of driving less would feel like an unnecessary sacrifice, like deprivation — which is counter to the goal of simple living. Living simply is supposed to make one feel more fulfilled, not less. And so, somewhat guiltily, I've been driving more than I'd like. I'm really not sure how to allow for spontaneity, when walking or busing necessitates planning ahead.
I also found myself eating out more this past month. Let me rephrase: I chose to eat out more this month — because it is about choices, after all. Why? Disorganization around meal planning, extra activities (see above) that cut into food prep time, out-of-town guests, laziness, feeling the urge to indulge...pick any or all of the above for any given dining excursion. And then there's the snowball effect: if I've already been "bad" and eaten out when I really shouldn't have, I (illogically) figure that the damage has been done and I might as well do it again. And again. Sort of like falling off the diet wagon.
Who knew that living simply would require so much discipline? Shouldn't it be simple?
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
"Lead paint: Delicious but deadly!"
(Remember when The Simpsons used to be really funny? Don't get the reference? That's okay, just play along.)There's just so much to say about toys: most kids have too many, a lot of them are worthless junk, they often lack value or promote icky messages (see my aside below); the list goes on and on.
And then, to top things off, they're full of TOXINS! C'mon, now, these are products designed for kids — you know, those little creatures whose brains and bodies are still developing and who are therefore more susceptible to the effects of toxic chemicals. And did I mention that they really like to put stuff in their mouths? I'm on the Consumer Product Safety Commission's mailing list for toy recalls, and it's pretty appalling...."lead," "lead," "choking," "lead," "lead," "lead"....
And don't get me started on phthalates and bisphenol-A, which are only now coming under scrutiny but still abound in products-a-plenty, including teethers, bath toys, and bottles, among many other things.
So, we give our kids toys that may or may not be coated in delicious lead, creamy cadmium, and assorted hormonal and endocrine disruptors. We don't intend to, of course, but most people aren't aware of every recall, and not every product is tested. Besides, we assume that products will be safe — there are standards and regulations, after all — but considering the millions of toys imported from countless factories in countries halfway around the world, it is unrealistic to expect that every toy will be toxin-free.
But this really isn't about toxins in toys — there are plenty of more informed sources on that topic. It's just been on my mind lately as I recently had a few of my daughter's toys tested; her Mega Blocks (an older set, purchased about 5 years ago when I was a nanny) — the yellow one we had tested, at least — had high levels of lead (2.5 times the federally allowed amount, and about 16 times the amount now permitted in toys in Washington state due to the recent passage of a toy safety bill).
So, what to do? Well, one can (and should) do many things: be an informed consumer, buy locally from sellers who know exactly where and how the product was made, push for stricter safety standards...and...here's the really big one...buy fewer toys! Because the fewer toys you buy, the less you have to worry about exposing your kids to potentially hazardous chemicals. Think about how many toys you have in cupboards, buried in toy baskets and organizational units, and in closets. Rotate the toys you already have and voila!, it's almost like getting new ones. Most kids only have a few things they really enjoy playing with anyway.
If you're just itching to buy some new toys, stick with the basics since these allow for the most creativity and have staying power:
- Blocks
- Wooden construction toys
(tinker toys, lincoln logs, and the like).
- Melissa & Doug
- Legos.
- Art supplies.
- Puzzles.
- Books.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
(Something's) Gotta give
Those of us with kids, especially young ones, know how quickly the toys pile up. They overflow into every room of the house and the yard; we toss the less-favored or over-sized ones into the garage. Then a birthday comes along, or Christmas, and the piles expand.
If kids are showered with mountains of presents at every gift-giving opportunity, how can we fault them for expecting more, more, more? I would much rather see my daughter receive just a few nice gifts from her immediate family and closest friends. It makes my life easier since I don't have to find homes for a ton of new toys, and I don't have to figure out what to do with gifts from well-meaning friends that don't jibe with our values, or are just kind of junky/ugly/too-loud-and-beepy.
Just say Girl Power!
Now, let me get a condom out of
my boot before we talk money.
If kids are showered with mountains of presents at every gift-giving opportunity, how can we fault them for expecting more, more, more? I would much rather see my daughter receive just a few nice gifts from her immediate family and closest friends. It makes my life easier since I don't have to find homes for a ton of new toys, and I don't have to figure out what to do with gifts from well-meaning friends that don't jibe with our values, or are just kind of junky/ugly/too-loud-and-beepy.
Just say Girl Power!
Now, let me get a condom out of
my boot before we talk money.
[I don't mean to sound like a snob, but there are some toys I don't want my daughter to have....say, anything in the I-want-to-be-a-prostitute-when-I-grow-up! category (aka Bratz dolls). I'm seriously not a humorless PC enforcer, but you don't have to be a feminist to gag a little when you think about what little girls are internalizing when they play with those dolls. But I digress.]
And, with fewer gifts, maybe I can adjust my daughter's expectations a little. Maybe, if I'm really lucky, she'll appreciate the things she has rather than just glancing at generic toy #526 then tossing it onto the pile as she shouts "Next!"
The complicating factor is that people really want to buy stuff for kids. I was recently invited to a friend's baby's birthday party, and the invitation stated "No gifts necessary." One of the other invitees, however, asked what I was going to buy (if anything); she felt that despite what the invitation said, one ought to bring a gift. I still opted not to purchase a gift (though I brought wine for the parents...I figured that they could use the booze more than their 1-year-old could use another push toy), but I couldn't help wondering if I appeared cheap, thoughtless, etc. as a consequence. Why does a celebration have to be about who buys what? And how do you opt out of the cycle of consumption (or at least scale back) without coming across as ungrateful or holier-than-thou?
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Johnny Crow would dig and sow...
...till he made a little garden.My last attempt at a vegetable garden was about 14 years ago, and it was pretty comical. My general lack of planning and maintenance resulted in dozens of un-thinned, stunted carrots; five zucchini plants which produced more squash than we could have eaten in a year; broccoli that went to seed before I got around to harvesting it; you get the idea. Not exactly encouraging results.
I have never been a gardener. My mom gardens and loves it — I have tried to love it, but I seem to have missed out on that gene. The armies of dandelions surrounding the unkempt flowerbeds in my front yard and the victorious vetch that has claimed the back yard beds are a testament to my lack of tending. It's not that I don't notice or don't care about the weeds — I would love to look out my window and smile at beautiful cascades of flowers — but the work involved seems overwhelming (we happen to live on a large lot, which seemed cool when we bought our house and everything was nicely landscaped, but not so cool when we realized what it took to maintain that landscape). The weeds have been around a lot longer than I have, and they certainly know how to survive. One weed species in particular looks fairly benign on the surface, but has a really impressive, seemingly endless lateral root system that shoots new babies up to the surface. Seriously, I am in awe of this plant. If only it was a pretty flowering ground cover....
Despite my gardening deficiencies, I've decided to try growing vegetables again. Since I already cook and bake most of my family's food (I buy few prepared foods and we eat out infrequently), it only makes sense to take things a step further and cultivate some of my own ingredients. I've actually read some books this time and done a bit of preparation. I've probably skipped some important steps (like figuring out the pH of my soil), but at least I have a basic plan. I even discovered that the three-tier compost system we've been dumping our yard waste into (but otherwise totally ignoring) actually WORKS! You just throw stuff in, and eventually it turns into great dirt — who knew?
Honestly, it's not a freshly-dug grave. I may have accidentally
cleaved a few worms with my shovel, but that's it, I promise.
I've completed phase I, the tedious work of digging up sod, turning soil, and working in the compost, so it can only get easier, right? My garden plot is very small (I'll be doing some container gardening as well), but I think it's a good, manageable size for a novice like myself. It's not much to look at yet, but I hope to have photos with lots of lovely green stuff growing in the next couple of months.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Car Report Card
At the end of March I decided to cut back on my car use during the month of April. I allowed myself use of the car one day a week (on Thursdays) and every other Monday to accommodate regular engagements that would be difficult to get to via bus, bike, or feet.
I'd say I earned a B- overall. On average, I ended up driving one additional day a week. The usual reason was time: too far to walk and/or limited bus options.
For example, to take the bus to a friend's house a few miles away (a 10 minute drive), I would have to walk 15 minutes to the bus stop, ride for 15 minutes, then walk another 10 minutes; and since this particular bus only runs once an hour, I would likely either have a very short visit or an overly long one (and mess up my daughter's nap routine). I would also be limited to morning visits since my afternoon (post-nap/pre-dinner) window is too short to make busing feasible.
Several other friends are clustered in another part of town, about 20 minutes away by car. The same trip by bus (including some walking time) is an hour, minimum. I live outside of Seattle's urban core, and public transit options within and between these more suburban areas aren't abundant. The question, then, is whether the much lower cost of using public transportation (or bike/feet), reduced consumption of natural resources, and increased exercise balance out the significant time commitment and general lack of convenience.
Some days I'm completely sold on the idea of getting rid of my car (and sharing my husband's one or two days a week); other days, especially the cold and rainy ones, I am grateful to see that car sitting in the driveway... just in case I don't have the motivation or time to choose a car-less option.
Nonetheless, I think we're going to try and sell our (newer, more expensive, and less fuel efficient) car. I need another week or so to fully embrace this decision, but I feel like it's the right thing to do. I'm not committing to being car-less indefinitely: in the fall, my daughter starts a 5-day-a-week preschool program (about a mile and a half away) and I may find that it's too difficult to manage on foot/bus when the wind is whipping the rain sideways. But, if I can make it through the summer, perhaps I will become fully converted to living with one less car.
I'd say I earned a B- overall. On average, I ended up driving one additional day a week. The usual reason was time: too far to walk and/or limited bus options.
For example, to take the bus to a friend's house a few miles away (a 10 minute drive), I would have to walk 15 minutes to the bus stop, ride for 15 minutes, then walk another 10 minutes; and since this particular bus only runs once an hour, I would likely either have a very short visit or an overly long one (and mess up my daughter's nap routine). I would also be limited to morning visits since my afternoon (post-nap/pre-dinner) window is too short to make busing feasible.
Several other friends are clustered in another part of town, about 20 minutes away by car. The same trip by bus (including some walking time) is an hour, minimum. I live outside of Seattle's urban core, and public transit options within and between these more suburban areas aren't abundant. The question, then, is whether the much lower cost of using public transportation (or bike/feet), reduced consumption of natural resources, and increased exercise balance out the significant time commitment and general lack of convenience.
Some days I'm completely sold on the idea of getting rid of my car (and sharing my husband's one or two days a week); other days, especially the cold and rainy ones, I am grateful to see that car sitting in the driveway... just in case I don't have the motivation or time to choose a car-less option.
Nonetheless, I think we're going to try and sell our (newer, more expensive, and less fuel efficient) car. I need another week or so to fully embrace this decision, but I feel like it's the right thing to do. I'm not committing to being car-less indefinitely: in the fall, my daughter starts a 5-day-a-week preschool program (about a mile and a half away) and I may find that it's too difficult to manage on foot/bus when the wind is whipping the rain sideways. But, if I can make it through the summer, perhaps I will become fully converted to living with one less car.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Sneaky money
April has been a pretty frugal month, with few purchases other than consumables (food, personal hygiene products, gas). A handful of other small items — a birthday gift, a shovel for my garden — but that's about it. And for good reason: some large and unavoidable expenses in late March ate up most of our April income before we even had it. By mid-April, we were really scraping the bottom of the barrel (though we do not, in fact, keep our money in a barrel). Then, a few days ago, we received a check for a sizable sum of money that was owed to us. "Sizable" is relative, of course; for us, it was a nice chunk of cash. Now, this really wasn't "extra" money, and it was badly needed to help us through the rest of the month.
And yet....
Once it was in the bank and that balance figure was back to a comfortable level, I realized how quickly one's mind drifts toward dirty thoughts. Come on, baby, spend me...you know you want to. Example 1: I drove past a Target store and blithely wondered if there was anything I needed to buy. Before the check was deposited, and spending simply wasn't an option, I'm certain I would not have had the same thought. Example 2: We ate out tonight because I didn't feel like cooking. Nothing fancy (a generic Mexican food restaurant), but we both ordered margaritas, adding about 25% to our usual tab. It was easy to justify: we were treating ourselves after a day of yard and garden work. But I wonder how much produce I'll have to grow in my little garden plot to make up for the dinner bill? Again, pre-check, we would have eaten in.
What amazes me is how easily this happens even when I am trying to be vigilant about expenses, trying to evaluate needs vs. wants — trying to be a conscious consumer. No wonder so many of us are just squeezing by month to month (or worse, living on credit). Now, I'm not agonizing over the fact that we went out to dinner; I just want to feel like I'm making choices rather than blindly following momentary wants while under the illusion that money is plentiful. Because (not-so-)easy come, easy go...
And yet....
Once it was in the bank and that balance figure was back to a comfortable level, I realized how quickly one's mind drifts toward dirty thoughts. Come on, baby, spend me...you know you want to. Example 1: I drove past a Target store and blithely wondered if there was anything I needed to buy. Before the check was deposited, and spending simply wasn't an option, I'm certain I would not have had the same thought. Example 2: We ate out tonight because I didn't feel like cooking. Nothing fancy (a generic Mexican food restaurant), but we both ordered margaritas, adding about 25% to our usual tab. It was easy to justify: we were treating ourselves after a day of yard and garden work. But I wonder how much produce I'll have to grow in my little garden plot to make up for the dinner bill? Again, pre-check, we would have eaten in.
What amazes me is how easily this happens even when I am trying to be vigilant about expenses, trying to evaluate needs vs. wants — trying to be a conscious consumer. No wonder so many of us are just squeezing by month to month (or worse, living on credit). Now, I'm not agonizing over the fact that we went out to dinner; I just want to feel like I'm making choices rather than blindly following momentary wants while under the illusion that money is plentiful. Because (not-so-)easy come, easy go...
Monday, April 14, 2008
The Car and I: A progress report
A couple of weeks ago I decided to try relying less on my car and more on my feet and public transportation (read about my rationale here). Now almost halfway through the month, I thought I'd evaluate my progress...and I've actually done pretty well.
Week 1: Used the car two out of five weekdays, rode the bus, walked about 6-7 miles.
Primary lessons learned: 1)Full-size stroller + public transit = major hassle (but the kid loves the bus—no carseat! Freedom!). 2)Need better walking shoes.
Week 2: Used the car two out of five weekdays (I had only allowed myself one driving day this week; I did carpool on one of those days...does that still count?), rode the bus, walked about 3-4 miles.
Primary lessons learned: 1)Smaller strollers are still a (minor) hassle on the bus, and will leave dirty tire marks on your pants as you try to maneuver child, diaper bag, and stroller up the steps. 2)Walking in the rain is not as romantic as you might think.
As I look ahead to weeks three and four while checking the 10-day weather forecast, I am not terribly excited about the prospect of more rainy/cold/windy/dreary walks. While some people may find a brisk walk on a wet and blustery day to be refreshing, perhaps cleansing, I prefer the comfort of my enclosed, heated automobile. But, living in Seattle, committing to driving less requires a willingness to accept the rain.
I believe I still have several stages to go through, however, before reaching acceptance.
Week 1: Used the car two out of five weekdays, rode the bus, walked about 6-7 miles.
Primary lessons learned: 1)Full-size stroller + public transit = major hassle (but the kid loves the bus—no carseat! Freedom!). 2)Need better walking shoes.
Week 2: Used the car two out of five weekdays (I had only allowed myself one driving day this week; I did carpool on one of those days...does that still count?), rode the bus, walked about 3-4 miles.
Primary lessons learned: 1)Smaller strollers are still a (minor) hassle on the bus, and will leave dirty tire marks on your pants as you try to maneuver child, diaper bag, and stroller up the steps. 2)Walking in the rain is not as romantic as you might think.
As I look ahead to weeks three and four while checking the 10-day weather forecast, I am not terribly excited about the prospect of more rainy/cold/windy/dreary walks. While some people may find a brisk walk on a wet and blustery day to be refreshing, perhaps cleansing, I prefer the comfort of my enclosed, heated automobile. But, living in Seattle, committing to driving less requires a willingness to accept the rain.
I believe I still have several stages to go through, however, before reaching acceptance.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Leave me alone.
In my last post I mentioned feeling "on call" with respect to my freelance work. This feeling, I realized, creeps into my non-work life as well: to be unreachable in this era of instant communication is considered, it seems, to be at least undesirable, and perhaps even rude.
I find this situation to be a major obstacle to simplification.
[Dear friends and family, please do not interpret the following thoughts as a response to our communications. I enjoy talking to you all, really.]
Because I have a cellphone, at any given time, during any activity, I am expected to be available (and willing) to take a call. If I am online, then I am also expected to respond to emails immediately and acknowledge IMs. If I've been away from my house, I feel compelled to check my voicemail as soon as I get home and return calls promptly. My time does not belong to me, or at least not to me alone. I am not a luddite — my husband and I depend on technology and efficient avenues of communication for our work, and I enjoy the convenience of having quick access to the people I wish to contact.
The problem, for me, is the expectation: if I did not give up the right to my own time, or if I were to set limits on my availability, I would be perceived as breaking some modern social contract. I'm not entirely sure when this new contract came into being; it seemed to establish itself quietly yet firmly over the past two decades. People now feel that a cellphone is a necessity because employers, among others, need to be able to reach them at all times. But was that "need" always there, or did it develop because technology made it possible? And how does that "need" effect us as humans? Are we a little more anxious knowing that we might be interrupted at any moment, that our free time isn't free anymore?
Maybe it's just me.
Lately, when my daughter is napping (oh, those precious periods of silence), I have started taking the landline off the hook and turning off my cellphone. I don't even want to hear it ring, to concern myself with who might be calling and whether to answer. I usually catch up on a little email initially, but then close my computer and read, rest, or otherwise bask in quiet solitude (even the mundane household tasks I do during this time feel more pleasant when they are uninterrupted). Why should this seem like a luxury? Aren't we all entitled to time alone?
I'm thinking about doing a once-a-week communication technology fast: no phone calls, no computing (if my computer is open, I can't help but check my email). My anxious inner dialogue pleads, "But what if someone needs to reach me?!" Well, they could probably wait a day. "But what if I'm expecting an email, or need to look up a vital piece of information online, like the name of that guy in that movie I saw last week, or that funny YouTube clip my friend mentioned?!" Well...yeah. I'm an internet junkie. Sure, some of it is educational and enriching, but a lot of it is pure time-sucking. When I don't have the option of being online (while staying at the family beach house, for example), I really don't miss it — but having the computer right there, tempting me...choosing to resist would be a bigger challenge.
Still, having one day a week of unreachability, of freedom from instant access — the thought alone seems to relieve some of the tension in my brow, the stress in my shoulders....
Ah, yes, that's much better.
I find this situation to be a major obstacle to simplification.
[Dear friends and family, please do not interpret the following thoughts as a response to our communications. I enjoy talking to you all, really.]
Because I have a cellphone, at any given time, during any activity, I am expected to be available (and willing) to take a call. If I am online, then I am also expected to respond to emails immediately and acknowledge IMs. If I've been away from my house, I feel compelled to check my voicemail as soon as I get home and return calls promptly. My time does not belong to me, or at least not to me alone. I am not a luddite — my husband and I depend on technology and efficient avenues of communication for our work, and I enjoy the convenience of having quick access to the people I wish to contact.
The problem, for me, is the expectation: if I did not give up the right to my own time, or if I were to set limits on my availability, I would be perceived as breaking some modern social contract. I'm not entirely sure when this new contract came into being; it seemed to establish itself quietly yet firmly over the past two decades. People now feel that a cellphone is a necessity because employers, among others, need to be able to reach them at all times. But was that "need" always there, or did it develop because technology made it possible? And how does that "need" effect us as humans? Are we a little more anxious knowing that we might be interrupted at any moment, that our free time isn't free anymore?
Maybe it's just me.
Lately, when my daughter is napping (oh, those precious periods of silence), I have started taking the landline off the hook and turning off my cellphone. I don't even want to hear it ring, to concern myself with who might be calling and whether to answer. I usually catch up on a little email initially, but then close my computer and read, rest, or otherwise bask in quiet solitude (even the mundane household tasks I do during this time feel more pleasant when they are uninterrupted). Why should this seem like a luxury? Aren't we all entitled to time alone?
I'm thinking about doing a once-a-week communication technology fast: no phone calls, no computing (if my computer is open, I can't help but check my email). My anxious inner dialogue pleads, "But what if someone needs to reach me?!" Well, they could probably wait a day. "But what if I'm expecting an email, or need to look up a vital piece of information online, like the name of that guy in that movie I saw last week, or that funny YouTube clip my friend mentioned?!" Well...yeah. I'm an internet junkie. Sure, some of it is educational and enriching, but a lot of it is pure time-sucking. When I don't have the option of being online (while staying at the family beach house, for example), I really don't miss it — but having the computer right there, tempting me...choosing to resist would be a bigger challenge.
Still, having one day a week of unreachability, of freedom from instant access — the thought alone seems to relieve some of the tension in my brow, the stress in my shoulders....
Ah, yes, that's much better.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
The Freelancer's Dilemma
The advantages of freelancing: I don't have to follow a set schedule; I don't have to take jobs that I don't want or can't manage; I am my own boss; I can charge what I want and get to keep all of the money I earn (minus the what I get to share with the IRS, of course, though there are some tax benefits).
The reality of freelancing: I work all hours (evenings and weekends); I feel compelled to take any job that comes my way since we could use the money; I have no one to whom I can delegate tasks — if there is work to be done, I've got to do it; I frequently charge less than the market rate since my clients tend to be small business people or non-profits with tiny budgets, and I want to cut them a break (or, often with these clients, charging more = losing out on the job, so I'll choose to charge less).
The aspect of freelancing that I find most incompatible with living simply is being (or at least feeling) on-call. I don't want work to pile up, and I do want to keep my clients happy, so if they need something done I make every effort to do it as soon as possible. As a consequence, I am in a constant state of thinking either "I need to take action x on project y" or "I should check my email to see if I need to take any action on projects x y or z." In addition, my work is sporadic, so I cannot predict from week to week (or sometimes day to day) how many hours I will need to set aside for my projects. I'm sure that some people can handle (or even enjoy) the on-call/irregular work schedule, but I can't say that I love it. It might be different if I wasn't also a full-time mom trying to balance work and parenting. A typical scenario:
Daughter, wanting attention - "Want to read this book?"
Me, trying to catch up on work during the day - "Give me a minute, I just need to finish this one thing..." or some variation on that theme.
D - "Want mom close the computer?" or "Want mom move the computer and sit on your lap?"
M - [sound of my heart breaking]
The alternatives? I could not work at all, but the extra income (albeit small) does make a difference in our ability to save and manage expenses. I could get a regular, part-time job (one with a set schedule and no take-home work), but the hourly pay would probably be much lower than what I can charge as a freelancer, and I would have to put my daughter in daycare, cutting into both my income and my time with my child.
Hence, the dilemma.
The reality of freelancing: I work all hours (evenings and weekends); I feel compelled to take any job that comes my way since we could use the money; I have no one to whom I can delegate tasks — if there is work to be done, I've got to do it; I frequently charge less than the market rate since my clients tend to be small business people or non-profits with tiny budgets, and I want to cut them a break (or, often with these clients, charging more = losing out on the job, so I'll choose to charge less).
The aspect of freelancing that I find most incompatible with living simply is being (or at least feeling) on-call. I don't want work to pile up, and I do want to keep my clients happy, so if they need something done I make every effort to do it as soon as possible. As a consequence, I am in a constant state of thinking either "I need to take action x on project y" or "I should check my email to see if I need to take any action on projects x y or z." In addition, my work is sporadic, so I cannot predict from week to week (or sometimes day to day) how many hours I will need to set aside for my projects. I'm sure that some people can handle (or even enjoy) the on-call/irregular work schedule, but I can't say that I love it. It might be different if I wasn't also a full-time mom trying to balance work and parenting. A typical scenario:
Daughter, wanting attention - "Want to read this book?"
Me, trying to catch up on work during the day - "Give me a minute, I just need to finish this one thing..." or some variation on that theme.
D - "Want mom close the computer?" or "Want mom move the computer and sit on your lap?"
M - [sound of my heart breaking]
The alternatives? I could not work at all, but the extra income (albeit small) does make a difference in our ability to save and manage expenses. I could get a regular, part-time job (one with a set schedule and no take-home work), but the hourly pay would probably be much lower than what I can charge as a freelancer, and I would have to put my daughter in daycare, cutting into both my income and my time with my child.
Hence, the dilemma.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
So long, TV
Well, not really. But the beast is out of the living room, and I'm amazed at how different the space feels without the big black altar in the corner. The room seems more open, warmer, quieter — even though the TV was usually off. 
Once the TV corner, now a reading nook.And talk about out of sight, out of mind...my husband asked me last night if a certain, um, reality singing competition was on, and I hadn't even thought about it without the visual reminder (after a brief moment of panic, I determined that it was not, in fact, an American Idol night).
Did I just lose all credibility by mentioning American Idol? So be it. I have weaknesses.
Since we don't have cable, my viewing options are pretty limited, but I do enjoy a few shows. We also like to watch movies, so tossing out the TV entirely would not have made sense. Removing the television from our main living space, however, will likely reduce the amount I watch, slow my daughter's interest in finding out what the big box is all about, and has already had a humanizing effect on our home.
Speaking of kids and TV: people, what's going on here?
My 2-year-old daughter doesn't watch TV. I'm not militant about it (for example, if we're over at someone else's house, I don't ask that the TV be turned off), and I can't say that I even gave the issue much thought. There was no researched-based decision to keep the TV out of my girl's life; I just don't turn it on during her waking hours — why would I? Now, I realize that my kid is pretty independent and plays well on her own; if I had an extremely demanding child I might be more tempted to use the TV as a way to give myself a break. I don't know. But I think any child can find sources of entertainment that are, dare I say, even more interesting than TV. I won't cite the many statistics related to kids and TV viewing, but they are appalling. Yet, no one else in my circle of friends has made the no-TV choice; these are educated, progressive people, but many of their 2-year-olds already have favorite animated characters. Can someone make sense of this for me, because I just don't get it. Will I ever allow my daughter to watch TV? Sure. I don't think it's the root of all evil, and mindless entertainment has its place. We can't all be philosophers, and I'm not sitting up on some cloud of virtue judging parents whose kids watch TV. But is my daughter missing anything right now? Absolutely not.
Once the TV corner, now a reading nook.
Did I just lose all credibility by mentioning American Idol? So be it. I have weaknesses.
Since we don't have cable, my viewing options are pretty limited, but I do enjoy a few shows. We also like to watch movies, so tossing out the TV entirely would not have made sense. Removing the television from our main living space, however, will likely reduce the amount I watch, slow my daughter's interest in finding out what the big box is all about, and has already had a humanizing effect on our home.
Speaking of kids and TV: people, what's going on here?
My 2-year-old daughter doesn't watch TV. I'm not militant about it (for example, if we're over at someone else's house, I don't ask that the TV be turned off), and I can't say that I even gave the issue much thought. There was no researched-based decision to keep the TV out of my girl's life; I just don't turn it on during her waking hours — why would I? Now, I realize that my kid is pretty independent and plays well on her own; if I had an extremely demanding child I might be more tempted to use the TV as a way to give myself a break. I don't know. But I think any child can find sources of entertainment that are, dare I say, even more interesting than TV. I won't cite the many statistics related to kids and TV viewing, but they are appalling. Yet, no one else in my circle of friends has made the no-TV choice; these are educated, progressive people, but many of their 2-year-olds already have favorite animated characters. Can someone make sense of this for me, because I just don't get it. Will I ever allow my daughter to watch TV? Sure. I don't think it's the root of all evil, and mindless entertainment has its place. We can't all be philosophers, and I'm not sitting up on some cloud of virtue judging parents whose kids watch TV. But is my daughter missing anything right now? Absolutely not.
Monday, March 31, 2008
The elephant in the room.
So, we've reduced grocery expenses considerably, we've cut way back on eating out, we're more conservative with our household energy use...in other words, the easy stuff. 
Have you hugged your car today? But what about that BIG energy consumer sitting in the driveway, you know, the one that accounts for our largest debt (after our mortgage)? Ah yes, the car.
We recently acquired a second car, and, as car purchases go, I think it was a pretty smart one (a 10 year old, very fuel efficient, low miles commuter car). My husband had been taking the bus to work for the past several months since his much older, less reliable car died a tragic death, and it wasn't an ideal situation for a number of reasons. Well, for my husband, at least — since I wasn't often affected by the lack of a vehicle, I was not as sold on the idea of a second car. "Why not just take the bus," I thought, "What's the big deal?"
Of course, I drive daily, even short distances that I could easily walk if I just allowed myself a little extra time. And I drive a larger "family sedan" that doesn't get the best gas mileage. We bought the car new about a year and a half ago after bad luck with our last used car. We shopped around and determined that a mid-size new car (with a great warranty) made sense for our family — and it might. Or maybe the $450 or so that we pay toward the car payment, gas, and insurance could be put to better use.
But am I willing to give up my car? Is it even practical? Toting diaper bag, stroller, and child on the bus isn't as appealing as hopping in the car. And the public transportation in our area isn't particularly convenient — I'd have to allow about twice the travel time. So, there would be sacrifices...or perhaps I should put a more positive spin on the idea and call them trade-offs. When I mentioned the notion of going back to one car, my husband said it seemed "extreme," which is kind of funny considering that for at least half of the time we've lived together we've shared one car (though much of that time was pre-child). I cannot claim to be ever-virtuous, however, as in the back of my mind I had the same thought. "Good lord, only one car!?" — talk about distorted ideals.
Here's my personal challenge for the month of April: I will drive only on Thursdays and every other Monday (I have ongoing commitments on these days that I cannot reasonably get to via bus/walking), and in the evenings, to simulate the experience of having one shared vehicle (assuming my husband would be willing to take the bus to work on those days should we decide to keep just one car). This will require some big adjustments on my part, particularly better time management, considering my tendency to cram too many things into too little time before rushing to my destination. But I want to try. I know I can make it work if I decide it's worthwhile — and I think it is. Check back at the end of April to see how I did!
Have you hugged your car today?
We recently acquired a second car, and, as car purchases go, I think it was a pretty smart one (a 10 year old, very fuel efficient, low miles commuter car). My husband had been taking the bus to work for the past several months since his much older, less reliable car died a tragic death, and it wasn't an ideal situation for a number of reasons. Well, for my husband, at least — since I wasn't often affected by the lack of a vehicle, I was not as sold on the idea of a second car. "Why not just take the bus," I thought, "What's the big deal?"
Of course, I drive daily, even short distances that I could easily walk if I just allowed myself a little extra time. And I drive a larger "family sedan" that doesn't get the best gas mileage. We bought the car new about a year and a half ago after bad luck with our last used car. We shopped around and determined that a mid-size new car (with a great warranty) made sense for our family — and it might. Or maybe the $450 or so that we pay toward the car payment, gas, and insurance could be put to better use.
But am I willing to give up my car? Is it even practical? Toting diaper bag, stroller, and child on the bus isn't as appealing as hopping in the car. And the public transportation in our area isn't particularly convenient — I'd have to allow about twice the travel time. So, there would be sacrifices...or perhaps I should put a more positive spin on the idea and call them trade-offs. When I mentioned the notion of going back to one car, my husband said it seemed "extreme," which is kind of funny considering that for at least half of the time we've lived together we've shared one car (though much of that time was pre-child). I cannot claim to be ever-virtuous, however, as in the back of my mind I had the same thought. "Good lord, only one car!?" — talk about distorted ideals.
Here's my personal challenge for the month of April: I will drive only on Thursdays and every other Monday (I have ongoing commitments on these days that I cannot reasonably get to via bus/walking), and in the evenings, to simulate the experience of having one shared vehicle (assuming my husband would be willing to take the bus to work on those days should we decide to keep just one car). This will require some big adjustments on my part, particularly better time management, considering my tendency to cram too many things into too little time before rushing to my destination. But I want to try. I know I can make it work if I decide it's worthwhile — and I think it is. Check back at the end of April to see how I did!
Friday, March 28, 2008
The best thing since....
Two loaves of freshly baked honey wheat bread are cooling in the kitchen, filling the house with a warm, homey smell. Bread is one of the many things that I've routinely tossed into my grocery cart without thinking twice. It's convenient, relatively cheap — why would I invest the time and effort to make my own? I love to bake, especially when the end product is quickly realized (cookies, brownies, biscuits); for some reason bread always seemed too intimidating and finicky to be bothered with.
But that satisfying smell alone is worth a lot. Plus the significant cost savings (compared, at least, to the middle-of-the-road, not artisan but not
The local food critic seems to like it.
Today's loaves look almost like real sandwich bread. At least I'm making progress.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Why Change?
I hate to admit it, but I am an American stereotype: I'm squarely middle class; I live in the suburbs; I have two cars, 2 cats, one child; my husband is a white-collar professional and I work part-time from home while caring for my daughter full-time. All of my basic needs are met. Below the surface, things are more complicated. While I've always been good at managing money and avoiding excess, we still have more expenses than we can comfortably handle (yet we feel entitled to luxuries like eating out). I know my life is privileged relative to the majority of the people living on this planet, yet I must confess to comparing my lifestyle and possessions to those of my peers and question whether I measure up. I feel like I'm conscious enough to avoid media messages to spend and acquire, smart enough to avoid catching "affluenza"....but consumption seems so normal that I still consume without full awareness.
At least I don't live here.
I'm looking for a change. To quote one of my favorite books, "I am discontented. I want something I do not have. There must be more to life than having everything!"
The "something I do not have" is a contended life where I worry less about money, about the stuff I don't have (and the stuff I do), about the values I'm modeling for my children, and about my contributions (positive and negative) to the world around me.
The Experiment: I want to simplify my life by reducing expenses, reducing the clutter and unnecessary "stuff" in my life, taking pleasure in what I have rather than coveting what I don't, and feeling more connected to my community and the planet. It's an ambitious goal, so I'm just trying to take a few small steps at a time as I conduct my Simple Experiment. This blog is part "voluntary simplicity" (which I've only begun to learn about), part frugality, part home organization, part green living, plus a little parenting and cooking thrown in for good measure (because living simply does NOT mean giving up cookies).
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