A place for everything..

My whole life I've been defined as the "carefree" one, or silly, goofy, not exactly irresponsible, but very aloof and fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants.  I've never been what you'd call "organized" or "tidy" and although I don't like a dirty house, I admit, the clutter is pretty crazy around here most of the time.  I prefer things to be temporary, fluid and without structure.  Very much the opposite of "a place for everything and everything in its place".  And for most of my life I've completely rejected other people's attempt at enslaving me to their way of "thinking".  

As and artist and a free-spirit I have my own sense of organization, in general, being organized to me means being able to see everything at once.  If Type A's are the card catalogue, I am every book on the shelf, or quite possibly the floor.  I can't do dressers, piling all the clothes on top of each other (folded or otherwise) is just silly, who can find anything?  My husband keeps trying to get me to use filing cabinets, but the idea of all those little tabs, and not actually being able to see all the papers just bothers me.  And how to decide where it goes?  Name? Date? Category? Serial number? I'd need a tab for every item and that just wouldn't be practical!  In keeping with my philosophy that the things around me should be fluid, able to move and non permanent, I'd call my sense fluidization vs. organization.

Having three kids does something to you though.  I find that we really just don't have room for everything to be out all the time, and different seasons do call for different things, clothes, decor, etc... And don't forget the kids are constantly bringing home papers from school.  Right now we have tons of the art projects tacked up in our hallway, lining it from one end to the other, like a child-finger-paint-doodle-mosaic-wallpaper.  Just the way I like it, seeing everything at the same time, and who am I to decide which masterpiece should be tossed to save another?

I find myself, and my mind, constantly at odds with my spirit, like somehow internally I'm being nudged in directions I'm not sure I want to go.  Every step of the way I realize I'm saying things like "hun, we need to find a home for this" or "yia yia, does this have a spot on your shelf?"  It all came to a head at Christmas.  The kids got all these new toys and clothes and it just wasn't going to work to have the clothes thrown in their dressers, and the toys in the toy bins.  I knew something had to change, and try as I might, this change was rushing in like waves in high tide, crashing with bolder smashing force.  How was I going to brace myself for this?  I was I going to keep my free-spirit intact with all this "need for change" swirling about?  

Well my husband, not exactly a Type A, but still much more "traditionally organized" than I am, and I started sorting through some things, and started putting old clothes, summer clothes, miscellaneous electronic items, less used toys, hand-me-down-clothes, and every other sort of thing in designated rubbermaid bins.  (I cringed as I realized I wouldn't be able to see through the bins and know exactly what was inside, but I decided to let it go and at least be thankful that all the things left out could be arranged however I desired.)  We don't have a garage, nor do we have extraordinarily large closets, so the task of finding the perfect home for these things was big.  I had to completely rearrange the girls' closet, moving a toy shelf over, trading spots with some hanging basket-thingys, and getting a second, lower hanging, bar for claudia to be able to hang her own clothes up.

All of this was going really well; I even enjoyed it a little.  In the girls room I was maintaining my organizational standard of "seeing everything at once" by how I arranged the closet and kept as much out of buckets and bins as possible.  Joe's room is similarly organized and so is the mud room and kitchen (albeit behind closed cabinets).  All of these small nudges and slight directions didn't seem to be taking me down too dark of a path to 'spirit doom' so I let my guard up a little bit and started to relax.  I didn't seem to be completely losing myself to this crazy process.  I was going to be alright, what was the worst that could happen?

As I slowly surrendered bit by bit and allowed the waves of "traditional organization" to crash on to my wild-spirit-home, they grew bigger and bigger culminating in one final tsunami that took my by surprise and for a minute I went under, and in that moment of chaos being tossed under those waves, something terrible happened.  I must have hit my head on the reef or something, but before I realized what was happening, in that moment when I was totally engulfed, I uttered words that are the harbinger of death for any free-spirited person such as I,

"hun, do we have a label-maker?"

GASP!  What did I just say?  Am I dreaming?  Did I actually just ASK for the tool of the enemy?  This instrument, when used properly, could spell doom (heh heh) for anyone trying to keep their unorthodox soul alive.  A tool long used to usher in a regime of rigid structure and permanency, "this item shall belong in exactly this spot, and only this spot, for eternity, or at least until you use fingernail polish remover to strip this label off"    

Fortunately as the waves subsided and I surfaced for air, I realized that being deprived of oxygen can make anyone say dangerous things, make deals with the Type A Devil, just to stay alive.  And fortunately (thank the gods of Wild and Free) the answer was "no", we do not have a label maker.  So for now, we have many rubbermaid bins, none of them clear, and all of them with contents soon to be forgotten and unknown.  Although a part of me is at odds with not knowing, another part, my renewed and secured fluidization, rejoices at the lack of structure, and looks forward to the day when, upon searching the contents of said bin, I get to dump its inventory on the floor and see everything at once.

a scene to remember.

so i was at the koinonia (fellowship) dinner at our church tonight and i see a woman who looks really familiar. not really that big of a deal considering i've gone there for a long time and i recognize a lot of people i can't put names on.

this was particularly interesting though, because she seemed to think i looked familiar too and i noticed a few times she was looking at me.

so as i'm hurrying about my business of getting the kids set up with their tacos and making sure everything is just right, she catches my eye again, this time saying 'hi ash' and finally gets my full attention.

"it's kim.... you know, from Dr. Ford's office?"

OOHHHHH, now i get it. she's the nurse that always assists my doctor whenever i'm there (which was quite often a couple months ago, few times a week.)

anyway, i look at her and now that i realize who she is i say, "oh hi! i didn't recognize you with my clothes on!"

she laughed, i laughed and i'm sure the next time i'm in the Dr. Ford's office we'll both laugh again.

TDS (Technology Dependency Syndrome)

I've recently been diagnosed with a life altering disorder. It's known as TDS or Technology Dependency Syndrome.

TDS usually manifests itself in typical ways, in my particular case, my brain no longer relies on internal memory to do nearly anything. I can seldom remember my own phone number, let alone anyone elses, on my computer I have alarms set to tell me when to pay bills, when to send birthday cards (and to whom), when to get an oil change, when to schedule cleaning, lunch, coffee, play dates, and free time with my husband. My cell phone doesn't just have a phone book, but games (I have no idea when I last played a board game on a real board) it connects to the internet, sends email and instant messages (I almost don't need my laptop as well), is a voice recorder, my alarm clock, calculator (yeah, who remembers basic math anymore) is a camera, video camera, and an MP3 player. I don't use pens, pencils, or paper (only paper I use gets it's ink from the printer). I don't remember the last time I actually flipped pages on a real cook book, I usually google it.

Speaking of Google; the phone book that gets left at the door gets thrown away before we even take it out of the plastic bag, I haven't used my Thomas Guide Street Map in ages, and who knows the last time I booked a flight through an airline or travel agent. We check movie times on line, buy everything from clothes, shampoo, vitamins, food, clothes, games, flowers and even gifts for other people that our hands will never even touch. I'm not even sure if my money is real or imaginary, I haven't really held cash in a long time.

Despite the fact that all of this is overwhelming evidence of my condition, I was not completely aware of its severity until one crippling symptom appeared;

One day while in a rare moment separated from my gadgets, I was forced to use a pencil and paper to jot down a note. As I was writing I wrote a word which as I wrote it didn't seem to be spelled correctly. I looked at it again wondering if I'd spelled it right and thought surely it must be; after all, if I had written it wrong wouldn't the little red squiggly line have appeared under it?

Yes, indeed I had expected my paper, made of nothing more than wood pulp and water, to some how posses the power to tell me if a handwritten word was spelled correctly or not. Clearly I had a full blown case of TDS and at this point the prognosis was grim, it would probably be a chronic condition and the symptoms will only get worse as time goes by and more technology makes it's way into my life and takes over my brain.

Gotta go, my alarm is telling me it's time for me to feed my kids....