Sharing

The whole sharing/trading/giving away thing has been happening quite smoothly.

Recently, a student gave me two huge bags of clothes. Another friend gave me two beautiful blouses. Another friend gave me a gorgeous velvet top. Another a book. And another, another book.

Some of these people know about The Compact, some do not.

A couple of us have decided to do a wardrobe swap instead of a Goodwill drop off. One student asked if she could post some flyers at the studio for a project she's doing in exchange for clothing.

It reminds me that the circle/cycle is wide and in constant flow. I've been thinning again, realizing how much I have that I don't wear/use/need. Even though I haven't acquired much, I still have excess.

It also reminds me of a statement I heard once from Wayne Dyer. He talked about how we often give away our old, used, unneeded stuff after we don't want it anymore. Yet real generosity comes when you give away the thing that is most prized and loved.

This comes to mind when someone compliments a favorite purse or outfit. Perhaps one day I will offer it right off my back.

For now, I will put things back into the flow... when I'm done with them.

A Winning Weekend

I feel like we just had a huge success for The Compact, which resulted in a new living room.

It started with moving the couch.  Our house is sometimes painfully small, especially the living room / dinning room combo space.

Call it a stroke of genius, I thought moving the TV (my least favorite piece of electronic equipment) into the "office" (which was the "yoga room" before takeover) and creating a "man's room" would help create more "living" in the "living room."  Then we could face the couch toward the chairs in front of the window and create a real, live and livable space.

It was my covert plan to remove the TV from literally the center of our house.

I thought I'd meet resistance since Ron's favorite place is the couch, remote in hand.  He was surprisingly open to it.

First we had some measuring and logistical issues to tend to: what furniture do we have now that we can use in the re-work.  We needed something to put the TV on, something to sit on in the Man's Room, something to hold the stereo in the living room.  Technical assessments included outlets and cable.

We determined that the move was, in fact, possible, and decided what we needed.

Let's get down to what we actually bought.

We got a papasan chair and a great rug on Craigslist.

A writing desk at a yard sale for my much needed window-view work area. 

A 6-foot mirror that was not in the plan, but Ron wanted.

A pair of old (I think "antique" is a little too flattering, tho they are very cute) chairs.

A 1920s amoire which holds my yoga-related library.

(Previous two items at The Antique Company, and mirror at Home Style, our neighbors.  Felt good to keep it in the hood.)

And what we reused.

TV stand for TV in Man's Room.

Couch, chairs and ottoman which is not my seat for the desk in the living room.

Old old old TV stand for stereo in living room.

I think the amazing thing is it feels like a completely different house.  It's more inviting, more conversational, more "clean" feeling.  

The Man's Room is tight.  As in close-fitting.  And, Ron might never leave that room now.  Desk - papasan - sleep - repeat.  I promised him we will reassess in a couple of weeks.

I'm utterly blissed out at having a room to go where there is no TV.  It really is that big of a deal.

The funny thing is, I don't know that we would have done it much differently even if we weren't doing The Compact.  We still would have checked Craigslist and our neighbors.  We might have gone to Living Space on Broadway, or looked for a new rug.

Either way, I'm so excited about the change it's had on the house and the feeling of space here.

Avoidance

I love how creative the ego can be when it doesn't want to do things like meditate, organize tax receipts, or answer its own questions.

I am a very busy and important person and I do not have time to fess up to things like, "yes, I paid the extra postage and had two shirts I'd completely forgotten about re-shipped to me from Canada."

Oh, and then there's that bit about how I went on a girls shopping day and told my friends that I couldn't buy anything because we'd just spent $900 on vet bills.  Completely true (and nauseating), and not the only reason.

We're getting into some good stuff now.

So, yes.  I paid the shipping to get the shirts that I ordered before the 1st of the year.  It felt like a stretch of the rules, but not a break.

Then I got the shirts, and like so many other internet orders, they didn't fit, weren't like the picture and I sent them back (thank you double transport pollution).

If I'll stretch the truth for myself, why not for other people, too!?

Before Christmas a friend took me out to Granite Bay to this ritzy boutique with AMAZINGLY beautiful clothes.  I would be exaggerating if I said there was nothing under $100, but I'm getting so good at that, why not?

Seriously, most of the things there were $200 and up. 

But she was having a sale - 60% off.  And I bought several things.  Beautiful things.  On sale.

Still, I came home and after the buzz wore off, I realized that I can't play with those dogs. Those are big dogs and I'm a very little dog.

So this friend suggested that we get a few more women (other big dogs) and make an afternoon of it. The date was chosen. The dogs were excited.

As the trip got closer, Ron would ask, "Why are you going if you can't buy anything? Why haven't you told them about The Compact? Why do you think you can play with these big dogs?" All very good questions.

Then we had Cat Week.  

Stray from off the street who lost a fight and came to our porch to die (or so it appeared).  His vet trip cost us $300 and him his testicles.  "Un-neutered males are more prone to fighting." 

Ron named him Joe, and we thought we had ourselves another member on Team Feline, 11th Ave.... then the neighbor across the street gave him away.  Strange and a completely different story.

Several days later, our indoor kitty, Shiva, got sick.  She's awkwardly obese and never misses a meal, and suddenly she was not eating, drinking or cat'in around.  We waited it out a few days and ended up taking her in.

Of course they start with an x-ray because Shiva loves to eat string and dental floss.  Do you want to hear about the time I pulled some used floss out of her... ?  No, you probably don't.

No "bunching of the intestines" on the x-ray, so that was good. On to IV fluids and an overnight stay.  Jesus, how does it add up so quickly?

Isn't it amazing how I can avoid the point?

Anyway, even if we were not doing The Compact, I couldn't have spent any money on this shopping trip.  So it made for a really nice distraction and "better reason" for not buying anything than "oh, ya, I've chosen to deny myself simple pleasures of beauty that I deserve!" 

I don't know if I can get into the deeper stuff right now.  Like how there's either embarrassment about who I am (or am evolving to be), or a lack of faith in my friends, or how I wanted to quit the whole thing and buy this really beautiful top (I swear, this top would make me a better person...), or how watching my friends shop brought out anger and judgment (look at how catty and superficial they are!).

I just can't go there right now.  Maybe later....

It's Time

I've had 3 "experiences" around The Compact since we started at the 1st of the year, so it seems like time to write about it.  Four experiences, actually.

And, I've been resisting the blog "thing" for a while now.  Another good reason to start.

All of January passed with any close purchases, painful longings or feelings of lack.  

Then I had a dream that I was in a boutique and found, hidden under stacks of other clothes in a cubbie-like nook, a feminine, blousy tank top I'd been eyeing a for a while (in the dream).  My first thought was "oh, it's finally on sale!"  

That's when I remembered I couldn't buy it, and I woke up.

The next incident started with Allie wanting to switch out her old computer for my Mac Mini, which was orphaned when I got my new MacBook (clearly pre-Compact).  Her outlet was not the appropriate 3-prong deal.  

Of course, first response is to "go get one" at Hollywood Hardware.  

I was so proud of my man.  He uncharacteristically searched all drawers, cabinets, and the garage for an available adapter.  Nada.  But he did find updated outlets that we never installed in our old house.  

So, short of a tool belt, he pulled handyman rank and switched out the plug.  Whew, close call.

Then, as far as I'm concerned, we had a failure.  Allie announced in the early evening that she needed a sombrero for a school dance performance the next day.  Damn it!

This time, Ron didn't even blink... just told Allie to start calling party supply stores.  

I couldn't believe it!  But I played my role of silent fuming wife/stepmother brilliantly.  At least I didn't make a passive aggressive comment (or did I?).

So, the sombrero was purchased.  F!!  F-word!  We got an F, big fat F for fail.

Allie "donated" the hat to her teacher.  I think that was my Neosporin on the wound.

Then another dream.  Last night.

So it's this whole self-loathing dream where I'm perpetuating the "I'm not good enough" story. The events of the dream are not nearly as upsetting in waking hours as they are while I'm asleep and actually pushing the huge glass case over my massage client.

So I'm in my story and stuck in a pattern of self yuck and feeling sick about myself... and then I'm shopping.  There's a cute top (I'll spare the details) and I really want it.  I remember The Compact and I'm thinking, "Screw it!  I'm pissed and this is going to make me feel better."

I knew it before, but I really tasted this morning how I shop to feed, to fill, to numb, to escape. Not all the time, but I have definitely shopped in that way before.

It's empowering to not have the option.  Almost like a get out of jail card.  I don't have to have all the right things, the latest, this year's whatever.

I also can't just fill hole.

It's going to be a long and insightful year.