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Monday Maintenance

July 10, 2006 By Deanna Piercy 2 Comments

Sometimes I feel that all I do is maintain and never really make much forward progress. I can easily fill my day with routine tasks – you know, the stuff that has to be done over and over. Every day I make the bed, scoop the litter box, do the dishes, cook meals, feed animals and people, tidy up, sort mail and newspapers, and those myriad other tasks required for a reasonably comfortable home life. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t really mind these tasks and I fully accept them as part of my job as a homemaker. I am extremely grateful to David for being willing to bear the burden of the financial support of our household alone so that I may devote myself to making our home a cozy and peaceful place.

We tried the dual career thing for a few years and it was not right for us. I never could just let things go at home. In fact, I was even more diligent about keeping our house spotless, preparing good meals and devoting time to the kids, who were elementary school age at the time. Yes, it was a guilt thing. But as a hospice nurse with a very demanding job in addition to home duties, something had to give. In my case it was my health and marriage. David and I both agree that we are better off with me tending the home fires, so to speak, allowing him to devote the time and attention his career demands.

Still, it can be a bit discouraging to rarely have anything tangible to show for one’s efforts. Even if one’s job is mostly repetitious, tedious tasks, at least there is a paycheck in exchange. Not to mention society’s approval for being a *productive member*. There is little understanding, never mind praise for a woman who chooses to stay home, especially after the children are grown.

For nearly a decade I was able to garner at least a modicum of acceptance for my non-working status because I was homeschooling my kids. Even those who might not really understand why I would choose to do such a thing seemed to think it was a productive use of time. However, since Lisa *graduated* and got married last summer, I can’t tell you how many people have asked if I was planning to go back to work as a nurse. And I suppose it’s a reasonable question. I worked very hard to become an R.N. and I enjoyed the work, for the most part. I think I was especially good as a hospice nurse and truly believe those couple of years were well-spent. I learned so much about life and death. I know I gained a tremendous amount from the experience and feel confident that I, in turn, was able to minister to many families and individuals during very difficult circumstances. I am grateful for the opportunity because it helped shaped the person I am today.

But back to the topic at hand – how can I experience a sense of accomplishment and purpose when most of what I do isn’t noticeable unless it isn’t done? I remember spending a lot of time with my grandmother through the years and she has been a role model in many ways. Always busy but never rushed, she was such a hard worker and maintained a clean and comfortable home. I know she must have experienced some of the same feelings because I can remember her making grape jelly and commenting on how she occasionally needed something to show for her efforts. Even though it would eventually be consumed, for at least a little while there would be several beautiful jars of delicious jelly as evidence of her work.

Monday is the day in which I catch up with things that didn’t get attention over a busy weekend, as well as several weekly tasks. I wash our bed linens and remake the bed, do all the laundry (although I will also do a load or two most other days), clean the litter box and refill it, refill the parakeet’s water and food dish, water all indoor plants, and generally put the house in order for the week. However important these tasks are, they really aren’t the sort of thing anyone will notice.

I do think it is important for David to know a bit of what I *do all day* so one thing I do is to not completely make the bed after I put the washed sheets back on. Instead of pulling up the duvet and arranging all the extra pillows, I turn back the covers like some fancy hotels do and leave the duvet folded back at the foot of the bed. Since I otherwise always fully make the bed, this is something David can observe. And because it is a set routine he knows that on Monday nights we will be slipping between freshly washed, smooth and fragrant sheets. I usually even iron the pillowcases. I don’t think it is quite as important to him as it is to me (if I had Bill Gate’s money I would have someone put clean sheets on my bed every day and have fresh flowers in every room), but he does appreciate my efforts.

So where am I going with this? Well, I think that if I am to be content at home I need to do something each day that will actually stay done for awhile. One thing that has been frustrating me is our yard. Actually, *yard* isn’t an adequate word for 40 acres. Keeping up with the outside tasks has become so overwhelming that I have basically just been ignoring it. Unfortunately, that method isn’t really working and I am annoyed with myself. Here it is, well into July, and I still haven’t planted the three half barrels out front or purchased any hanging plants for the balcony or much of anything else outdoors. I did get four tomato plants set out but that’s about it. Last week I decided to tackle just one flower bed. There is a bed that runs alongside our patio and contains two small rose bushes. I pulled out the weeds and raked a copious quantity of acorns from the bed. Yesterday we bought three bags of red cedar mulch so this morning I mulched the bed. I also found a landscape timber behind our guest house and used it to extend the bed to form an “L” shape along the house. This is the area where we keep our trash cans. It now looks so much better.

All I have left to do to complete this little area is purchase and install some type of edging along the patio to contain the mulching. Unfortunately the patio was not well designed. It should sit a few inches higher than the surrounding ground instead of the same level. Yet another design flaw in this owner built home. After completing this area I had about half a bag of mulch left which was just enough for the three half barrels out front. I had already weeded them a few weeks ago so now they are ready for planting. I usually plant them with Mexican heather and vinca, both of which are very hardy and do well with minimal watering. The first thing I intend to buy next payday will be plants for these barrels.

I know the usual saying is not being able to “see the forest for the trees” but around here I have more trouble “seeing the trees for the forest”. In other words, it is often difficult to focus on just one small area when there is such an overwhelming amount of land. I tend to be an all-or-nothing type. With adequate energy and inspiration I can accomplish great things but lately it’s been more of the *nothing* and very little *all*. I just need to narrow my focus and concentrate on just one very small area at a time. Little by little things will get done and I will then feel that sense of accomplishment that I have been craving lately.

 

Edited to add: 

11/22/16 – Art Week Quotable: Mierle Laderman Ukeles On Maintenance

“Maintenance is a drag; it takes all the fucking time (lit.)
The mind boggles and chafes at the boredom.
The culture confers lousy status on maintenance jobs =
minimum wages, housewives = no pay.

     clean your desk, wash the dishes, clean the floor,
wash your clothes, wash your toes, change the baby’s
diaper, finish the report, correct the typos, mend the
fence, keep the customer happy, throw out the stinking
garbage, watch out don’t put things in your nose, what
shall I wear, I have no sox, pay your bills, don’t
litter, save string, wash your hair, change the sheets,
go to the store, I’m out of perfume, say it again—
he doesn’t understand, seal it again—it leaks, go to
work, this art is dusty, clear the table, call him again,
flush the toilet, stay young.

[…]

     I am an artist. I am a woman. I am a wife.
I am a mother. (Random order).

     I do a hell of a lot of washing, cleaning, cooking,
renewing, supporting, preserving, etc. Also,
(up to now separately I ‘do’ Art.

     Now, I will simply do these maintenance everyday things,
and flush them up to consciousness, exhibit them, as Art.
I will live in the museum and I customarily do at home with
my husband and my baby, for the duration of the exhibition.
(Right? or if you don’t want me around at night I would
come in every day) and do all these things as public Art
activities: I will sweep and wax the floors, dust everything,
wash the walls (i.e. ‘floor paintings, dust works, soap-
sculpture, wall-paintings’) cook, invite people to eat,
make agglomerations and dispositions of all functional
refuse.

     The exhibition area might look ‘empty’ of art, but it will be
maintained in full public view.

MY WORKING WILL BE THE WORK”

Filed Under: Dee's Life, Home & Garden, Homemaking, My Say Over Earl Grey

My legacy

May 15, 2006 By Deanna Piercy 1 Comment

While cleaning the litter box I had one of those moments. You know, an epiphany of sorts. What? You don’t get those? Anyway, this is one of those things I do every Monday. Wash the sheets, water all the indoor plants, refill the parakeet’s food and water, clean the litterbox. I usually do these things without even thinking. But for some reason, today as I was refilling the now clean and fresh smelling litterbox, this thought crossed my mind: Is this all there is to my life?

Wow, that was a sobering thought. I mean, I’m not stupid — I have two college degrees. And I’m not lazy, although I can be disturbingly unmotivated at times. And it isn’t that I think that sort of task is beneath me. When I worked at the hospital I was known among the housekeepers as “The R.N. Who Empties Wastebaskets”. I really don’t even mind most housekeeping chores. And I’m always telling people that being a mom and homemaker is a very important job. Most of the time I even believe that. So where did this thought come from?

Yesterday at church, the youth led the service and one of the new college graduates preached the sermon. At one point he asked the age-old question: “What do you want on your tombstone?” What sort of legacy do I want to leave behind?

She Kept the Litterbox Clean

That is definitely NOT what I want on mine. Surely there must be something else. I must have other talents, other gifts to share with the world. I believe with all my heart that God gives each of us gifts and talents — our job is to discover what they are and use them. So that is what I am pondering at the moment. I made a pot of coffee (I know, I know…but it’s my first of the day; I just had one cup of tea this morning.), put Queen on the stereo (because Bohemian Rhapsody is good for the soul), and headed for my keyboard since that is where I do some of my best thinking.

If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, my cup of Community Coffee (from New Orleans) tastes great and Queen rocks! Now I had better go start dinner.

Filed Under: Dee's Life, My Say Over Earl Grey

The Power of Words

May 12, 2006 By Deanna Piercy 4 Comments

There’s this little thing about me that you should know. I am Queen of the Squeaky Clean Language World. The other day I was talking to my daughter on the phone and telling her about some stuff I was bringing over for her garage sale.

Me: Some of it probably should be thrown away but I’ve been told that that is exactly the sort of, excuse my language, crap* that people actually buy. (*said in an almost whisper)

Daughter: Mom, crap is not really a bad word. Of course, you don’t even use the word “butt”.

She’s right. And I didn’t let my kids say butt or pee or crap, either. And certainly not anything worse! That is, until they were in their late teens and I lost control. That’s when they started watching PG-13 and even R-rated movies. Horrors!

You’ve got to understand, though. I grew up in this little Leave it to Beaver, perfect childhood bubble. My grandparents lived behind us, a couple of cousins next door, and four more cousins a block away. We spent our summers in our grandparents’ yard, climbing trees, playing dolls, building stuff, pretending we were pioneers, and drinking sweet tea by the gallon. We generally all got along, had lots of fun, used our imaginations, and didn’t cuss. None of us. My youngest brother, the rebel of the group, picked up the word “butt” from a friend in preschool and got in trouble for trying it out at home. None of the rest of us were brave enough to try that sort of foolishness.

This is just one of those quirky little things about me. I don’t sew; I drink LOTS of Earl Grey tea; I iron my pillowcases; and I don’t cuss or use crude language. It’s just who I am. Part of it is my upbringing and part of it has to do with this theory I have. I believe that words lose their power when overused. Certain words used at just the right moment can have great impact but when every other word out of someone’s mouth is of the four letter variety, people start to tune them out. So here’s where I am going with this. Someday I just might have occasion to be absolutely furious with someone and really, really need to get their attention. So I’m saving it up until then. Can you imagine the look I’ll get when I am 83 years old and finally let loose a string of obscenities? On the other hand, if it is one of my kids there will probably be stunned silence for half a second and then uproarious laughter. Oh well, I live to amuse my children.

So in the meantime I do have a bit of a dilemma. I am writing a book and I just know there will be a character or two who would reasonably be expected to swear, at least a little. Trouble is, I just don’t have any experience in using bad language myself so I worry about whether or not I can make it sound realistic. I don’t know exactly how I will handle this yet but I am thinking about *practicing* a bit on this blog. Nothing really bad but perhaps throw in a damn or hell once in awhile just so I can get past this hang up and be able to write with a certain element of realism. Y’all don’t mind, do you? Just remember, it’s writing research and practice. Oh, and be sure to read it as a whisper.

Filed Under: Dee's Life, My Say Over Earl Grey

Why I hate Wal Mart

May 11, 2006 By Deanna Piercy 1 Comment

Lots of people hate Wal Mart because of its business practices but my reasons are a bit less socially conscious:

1. The parking lot is as big as many small towns/villages and usually contains more cars than some third world countries have. When it looks like the Disneyland parking lot, you know you are in trouble.

2. Because of said parking lot situation, you basically have two options:

–One, drive around and around looking for a parking space within half a mile of the entrance. This is what most people seem to be doing. If it’s cold or hot or rainy (and here in Oklahoma that covers a lot of the year) I do the same. My method is to watch for someone heading to their car and then wait for them to pull out and leave me a spot. Unfortunately my track record with this is about the same as picking the shortest line at the checkout — poor. I always seem to be waiting for someone who has decided to clean out the glove compartment and completely re-do their makeup or pluck their eyebrows before vacating the premises.

–Two, head directly for the first available spot — way, way away from the entrance. When the weather is nice, like Tuesday when I last made the dreaded Wal Mart run, this is by far the better option. Not only do you avoid major irritation before even entering the store, if, like me, you could stand to lose a few pounds, you can convince yourself that you are exercising and doing something good for your health.

3. The store is HUGE! We have the Super Wal Mart version in our small town so the place is absolutely enormous. Again, you can try to convince yourself that all that walking is just your exercise for the day but even I can think of more enjoyable ways to expend a few calories. Because my goal is to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible, I try to be really organized and make my list according to the layout of the store in order to avoid backtracking. Which leads me to the fourth reason I hate Wal Mart.

4. They are forever changing things around. Just when I have figured out that the tortillas are on the aisle with the salsa, unless they are the kind that need to be refrigerated, in which case they will be next to the cheese, not the biscuits — — they decide to put them where I would have in the first place — in the bread section. But that’s just for now. Any day now I expect to zip through the store planning to pick up tortillas in the bread section which is near the checkout and hence, my last stop, when to my great annoyance I will discover they have moved them again. I will probably have to ask at least two employees before I find one who can tell me that the tortillas are now in their new “Ethnic Foods” section which will be conveniently located at the opposite end of the store.

5. Once you have finally found most of what you came for and tried to avoid adding fourteen items you didn’t have on your list but which were so temptingly displayed and even had their prices *rolled back*, the next hurdle is checking out. Our Wal Mart has 973 checkout counters but only 7 will be open at any given time and 4 of them will require you to have 20 items or less. Like I’m going to do the Wal Mart thing for anything less than a month’s worth of stocking up. So you eye the remaining three possibilities. I avoid the line with the blue haired old lady and her bulging envelope of coupons. Ditto for the tired mama with 3 whining children and two carts full of groceries. That leaves the seemingly normal looking person with a reasonable quantity of items who then proceeds to have a lengthy conversation with the checker about everything from the price of bread to global warming (they’re against it).

6. Finally, it’s my turn. While the person ahead of me is checking out, I carefully place my items on the conveyor belt thingy. Now, I’ve been told I am OCD (same people who comment on my passion for New Orleans – but remember, they have no credentials) but surely I can’t be the only one who likes her groceries bagged a certain way. For instance, I think it is perfectly reasonable to expect that produce, which will all be deposited into the refrigerator crisper at home, should be bagged together. So I place all the produce together and then leave a little space before putting the next grouping on the belt. I also prefer to have toiletry items (shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant, razors) together because these all go to the bathroom and it’s convenient to be able to carry them upstairs all together in one bag. And then there’s the bread. I hate squished bread. Bread needs special attention. So I carefully put like items together, leaving a bit of space between in a subtle but still apparent sort of way. But what do you suppose the checker does? Yep. She places a head of lettuce and some green onions in a bag and then ignoring the carrots and bell peppers right next to them, she reaches way down the belt and adds a bottle of shampoo and perhaps one heavy can of something or other. Okay, one bag filled! On this most recent trip, I had carefully placed three items together which I thought would make perfect bag partners — tortillas, bag of croutons, and loaf of very fresh sourdough bread. Now see, if I were doing the bagging, I would have taken the tortillas and placed them on the bottom of the bag then put the croutons and bread side by side on top. This seems perfectly logical to me as they are all bread type items and packaged this way should arrive home in good condition. But noooo…that would never do. Instead, the checker puts the bread (you know, the really soft, fresh loaf?) in a bag and then starts to put a three pound bag of shredded cheese on top! Fortunately I caught her before she completed this stunning move and rescued my precious loaf of bread from certain flattening. There were numerous other stupid combinations but I’ll spare you the details except to say that anyone in their right mind should know that Earl Grey tea, the elixer of life, does NOT belong in the same bag with highly scented toiletry items.

7. If you haven’t suffered a heart attack when the groceries are totaled up, all you have left to do to complete this fun little excursion is trudge out to your car pushing that heavy cart (remember, I don’t go for just a few items). The first hurdle is trying to find your car because it sure didn’t seem that far from the door when you walked in without pushing a cart filled with 123 pounds of groceries. Once you locate your vehicle you can load all those poorly packaged bags and leave. Unless you are me and need to remove the Earl Grey tea from the toiletries bag and make a few other *adjustments*. That’s when you notice that someone is waiting for your parking space so you hurry up, get in the car, start the engine, adjust the stereo, pluck an eyebrow or two then drive away, grateful that you survived and hopefully won’t have to do this again for a couple of weeks.

Filed Under: Dee's Life, My Say Over Earl Grey

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Welcome to Life With Dee! I'm a Francophile with a hippie heart, trying to create a beautiful life in the country while dreaming of Paris. Join me as I share inspiration to help you create your own "beautiful life".

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