Yes, it brings me joy

Since moving into this place a few years ago, I feel I've gotten my relationship with material possessions in balance. Now, most of the stuff lying around my home adds to its charm.

When I was a kid and a young adult, stuff-management felt like longing for the new, wading through the clutter of the old, and occasionally expending a little energy cleaning, sorting, reorganizing, or even hiding the mess of it in order to make my spaces presentable to friends and family. For a while, my hospitality style was something along the lines of, "oh crap, someone's coming, better clean up!"

I'm no neat freak, but I'm proud of the fact that my hospitality style now aligns better with my heart's intentions: "Yes! Come by! Any time!" You'll see crayons all over the table and dogs all over the couch . . . nothing at all to be ashamed of.

I haven't done a major Kondoesque purge, but after four moves in five years I have gradually given away almost everything that doesn't serve a clear purpose or give me great joy. I have little nooks and crannies all over the house filled with beloved objects—things that remind me of people I care about, or that just speak to me for one reason or another. My walls and refrigerator are covered in art by people I love and admire. My second-hand wardrobe suits my style, which X has coined, "thrift pixie."

If it looks like clutter, walks like clutter, and quacks like clutter, it's probably clutter. I have a few more heaps to face—the upstairs closet, the workshop, the kitchen cupboards—but I'm well on my way to a clutter-free home.

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Here are the Cloud Dog's X-Rays

Here, for your edification, are the X-rays of dear Paisley's leg. There is, apparently, no new break (since his Monday siezure) but there is, of course, a great deal of abnormality caused by years of living with a shortened ulna. His pronounced lameness, the vet says, may temporarily improve. Unlike me, Fenway Bartholomule, poor cloud dog can't expect much in the way of a full recovery. Not having the $$$$ for surgery to fuse the joint, we are working on making some sort of rigid splint to support the limb and prevent further degeneration. That is, the humans (with their space-age material inventions and their opposable thumbs) are working on making a splint; I am working on giving cloud dog brayful looks of support and encouragement every time he totters into the yard to relieve himself. As always, he fears me (me?!) and keeps his distance. Ears to you, Fenway

Continued . . .

Vegan Spring Rolls

I, Fenway Bartholomule, am a vegan: of course I only eat plants, not people! My human is too, so I'm sharing my blog with her today so that she can participate in the 2014 Virtual Vegan Potluck ! When you're done perusing the recipe for these delicious spring rolls, click "back" or "forward" for the entire potluck experience! Virtual Vegan Potluck: Spring Roll Appetizers Beautiful? Check. Healthy? Check. Delicious? Check. Easy? Check. Fancy? Check. Quick to clean up after? Check. Vegan? OF COURSE! If you're looking for something portable, colorful, and crowd-pleasing for your next potluck, look no further than these simple vegan spring rolls! The best part? You can substitute ANYTHING. I never make these the same way twice, so play around with cilantro, kale, cabbage, scallions, or whatever you think sounds good! Ingredients Veggie mix: 2 carrots (grated) 4 oz mung bean sprouts 1/3 cup chopped peanuts (raw, or roasted and salted) or ...

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Stripey schemes and meadow dreams

As you may recall, I am the proud resident of a very charming little barn—some might call it a shed—which shelters me in the winter from rain, and in the summer from sun. This spring Farmwife and Farmhusband decided it should be painted. Green, suggested Farmwife. Red, suggested Farmhusband. Teal, suggested Farmwife. Yellow, suggested Farmhusband. Stripey, suggested Farmwife? She was thinking of a retro Chevy squarebody (a quick Google search will show you what I mean), but didn't quite know how to make that practical on boards and battons. Farmhusband, who is a wizard, not only figured how how the stripes ought to go, but also arranged for the painting to be done. What I ended up with, almost in the blink of an eye, is the brightest, most cheerful, stripeavaganza of a barn. Even the neighbors are fond of it! In front of the barn is a vast expanse of grass which I am not allowed to sample on account of my laminitis. Not only is Farmwife opposed to letting me eat...

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A List

FarmWife has a to-do list, and "Ride the Mule" is sadly absent. The best thing on the list is "Muck out the Paddock," during which time I can enjoy the pleasure of her delightful company. The worst thing on the list is "clean the house," which is sure to take hours and hours which would be better spent rubbing my splendiferous ears. There's hardly even time for blogging on my transcriptionist's agenda, so I'll keep this short. Here, before I go, is the view from FarmWife's bedroom window at various levels of zoom: Your friend, Fenway

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BRAYS OF OUR LIVES

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