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Operation Clean-Up
My sister-in-law, CC, and I have been hanging out a lot lately. We were commiserating over the challenges that each of us has been facing and we struck a funny deal that will help both of us out. She’s going to watch my kid so I can get some work done (I’m really behind on some freelance jobs) and I’m going to help her clean her house! And we’re both happy with this arrangement! Imagine that!
CC has been fighting depression, financial issues compounded by an out-of-work husband, two crazy kids and a house that has become hopelessly overrun by clutter and chaos. Of course, chaos and clutter are nothing new in my family. It’s sort of a secret that I’ve let slip out a bit here and there. We deal with it.
Sometimes I feel like I’m pulled between two worlds in my life: one a clean calm beach life surrounded by snobbery and beauty, and the other deeply rooted in mobile homes, fast food, government aid and Walmart. I don’t really belong in either. But this is not about me.
It’s about CC. Even though she’s okay with chaos and clutter it does wear her down. It’s hard to keep up with chores when there is no end in sight ever ever ever. Sometimes it’s just easier to crank up the air conditioner, stay in bed and ignore the world for days—which is not healthy for her or her family.
Anyway, we were talking about how much I love to borrow her camera all the time and how I wish I could pay her rent on it and pay her for the babysitting she does for me but how broke I am, etc. And then she suggested that maybe I could come help her do her dishes in exchange. I’ve helped her clean her house before but it was sort of awkward and embarrassing for her. I totally understand that.
But I love to clean. I love to organize. I love a good makeover project.
So we struck a bargain, and as we worked together cleaning up her house, we started talking about the mental issues that go along with this kind of mess. I’m not trying to say that she’s a crazy loon (though sometimes I think she is, and I say that affectionately). Lots of people live in houses like this. Probably more than you think. I did.
I don’t know how I became the neatnik I am now. I just sort of broke the cycle (Toby would probably disagree). I can’t really judge CC because her home is bursting with love and acceptance while mine is rigid and stressful. It’s just fascinating to me, the complexities that make up our home life. The way some people are perfectionists but can’t keep anything neat because they are paralyzed by indecision or the fact that they cannot put things away in the perfect spot.
For example CC has all of her DVDs alphabetized and she has a spreadsheet cataloging them by genre and a bunch of other categories! Who does that?!!! Crazy lovable people who don’t do their dishes, that’s who. But if you went to my house, where the dishes are always done and the floor is clutter-free, you could open any drawer and have it explode out onto you with unfolded clothes or utensils that don’t have a home, or toys that are not sorted. I do not sort. I just stuff things in bins or drawers or closets and they are out of sight. I’m organized. I’m just not a perfectionist about it.
Amazingly, CC is letting me write about this here. She is the most open-hearted person I know. Yes, she is embarrassed that she has fallen so far behind in her chores but I think she knows that me helping her is something bigger. Just the companionship of us both being there together dealing with it was a huge mood lifter for both of us. Sometimes you can’t do things on your own. You fall down a rabbit hole and it’s impossible to climb out. And this is my life too. It’s something that fascinates me, maybe because of the way I grew up. I don’t know. I just know that I love helping people with their out-of-control homes. Someday I want to write a book about it.
Anyway, it was fun to work together on this. CC was on fire and by the end of eight hours we found the floor!
We even put together a home-cooked meal and made ourselves congratulatory drinks. We don’t need no stinkin’ Taco Bell or McDonald’s, we are women who get things done. Hear us roar!
We’re not going to be able to conquer the entire mess in three days, which is how long I’m out here. But I’m thinking I can come out and help once a month. Me helping won’t solve everything. I won’t be showing any magazine-style spreads of her home anytime soon but it’s fun, inspiring and I get free babysitting!
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Spinach Cubes
My life is so boring right now I’m going to blog about making spinach cubes. I know. I hate to blow the air of mystery I have around here but seriously, I’ve got nothin’ going on. It’s just parks and grocery shopping day in and day out. If I’m not counting to one thousand while I push Bug on the swing then I’m probably writing up a grocery list and plotting how I’m going to zig-zag across town getting the best deal on groceries.
The highlight of my week this week was going to the local Persian market and buying a giant pillowcase-sized bag of raw spinach. I’m not kidding! The bag was so huge I should have taken a picture. I didn’t want a bag that big. I wanted one one-fifth the size but they didn’t have any and the GIGANTIC one was only $3.49. I must have wheeled my rusty metal grocery cart up and down the crowded narrow aisles of that market eight times trying to weigh whether or not I could actually use as much spinach as a small restaurant.
In the end I decided I could. I figured I’d call up my neighbor and give her some. I’d eat probably a quarter of the bag raw and then cook the rest. Cooking spinach is like some kind of circus show where the clowns pile into an impossibly small car. You can add handful after handful of raw spinach to a boiling pot of water and it just magically disappears. My mom says there is a great debate over whether raw spinach is more healthy than cooked and now I know why. You are probably getting 10 times the amount of vitamins when you eat it cooked simply because it condenses down to such a small size. Five bowls raw probably equals one bite cooked. It’s pretty amazing.
Of course, enjoying cooked spinach is probably key. Which I do. I don’t love it but it’s not bad. I especially like it drenched in lemon juice. Lately, what I’ve been doing with my raw spinach (and the reason I was buying it in the first place) is making smoothies. Cheeky Lotus Shakes to be specific. I don’t know if this diet works. I can’t stay on it long enough to tell you but I can say that I like drinking super-healthy smoothies after I’ve binged on Pop-Tarts for a week. Nothing soothes a bloated tummy and a guilty conscience better than a delicious fruit smoothie packed with ground flax seeds and raw spinach.
I know a lot of people will think this breakfast is disgusting and it is if you think about it too hard. But you don’t taste the spinach at all. Everything is sweet. Blended bananas cover a multitude of healthy fibery things. The texture is funny but I’m not one of those people who is bothered overly much by textures. I’m weird that way.
So that is my breakfast. A smoothie (or shake) and my big cup of coffee. And now you know why I made spinach ice cubes. Because I want to use them in my shakes. I can’t tell you how they tasted yet because today is Pop-Tart day but I’m sure I’ll be able to let you know by the end of next week when my third-of-a-pillowcase-sized bag of raw spinach runs out or gets slimy.
