A Feeling Of Accomplishment

"Look at a day when you are supremely satisfied at the end.

It's not a day when you lounge around doing nothing;

it's a day you've had everything to do and you've done it."

-- Margaret Thatcher

Mushroom salt and pepper shakers 12-27-14

"I had arrived. I'd done it.

It seemed like such a small thing 

and such a tremendous thing at once ..."

-- Cheryl Strayed, 

Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

For months ... OK maybe years ... I've been telling myself that I should really clean out my kitchen cupboards and get rid of some shit.

And then I look inside at the cluttered mess and the task seems so big, so overwhelming, that I just shut the doors and forget about the problem until the next time the Tupperware cupboard vomits its contents all over the floor. 

And instead of handling the mess, I shove it all back inside and I go take pictures of Barbies instead.

Well, yesterday things got real.

I did the work.

Because I had help. I had someone to kick me in the pants and get the job done.

Sam, my extremely efficient, streamlined son, is home for Winter break. So with his encouragement and a few cups of coffee, the two of us tackled the problem and cleaned out the messiest problem cupboards and drawers.

In the process, a couple of good things happened.

A. I found these funny little mushroom salt and pepper shakers that were my Grandma's.

B. My cupboards are blissfully organized and spacious and clean.

C. We filled the back end of my car with all the stuff I don't want or need anymore, and made a big donation at our local Goodwill collection center.

D. My previous feelings of frustration and anxiety over the messy, disorganized state of my cupboards was replaced by an enormous sense of accomplishment -- the satisfaction of a long-overdue job well done. 

I felt inspired, empowered, tired, yet ready to tackle the next mess and take another load of unnecessaries out of my house.

It was a very good feeling.

And tackling the problem with someone who kept me motivated made the task easier, more enjoyable, and a helluva lot more fun.

That felt good too.

Maybe Sam will help me clean out the closets next.

I hope so. He's a fun-gi.

Found Objects

"Did you find anything special," Blackie asked.

T. nodded. "Come over here," he said, "and look."

-- Graham Greene, Shock!

Found pink rubber bracelet 11-30-14

"And isn't the whole point of things -- beautiful things -- 

that they connect you to some larger beauty?"

-- Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

On the windowsill in my mudroom is a collection of random objects.

A purple plastic magnetic number "2." A small wiffle ball. A feather. The plastic trailer from either a toy train or a toy truck advertising Leikeim (a German brewery) "Limonaden" (lemon soda). A miniature bobble-headed toy cat.

I found each of these things on my walks. 

I often find interesting things on my walks, sometimes on bike rides. 

Lost things.

Discarded things.

Fallen objects.

Sometimes I pick these fallen objects up and put them in my pocket and bring them home. Yesterday was particularly bountiful. By the time I returned home, I had a pocketful, and a handful. It was like a treasure hunt.

In a four-mile trek around my town I'd found:

a deflated balloon bouquet
a rusty razor blade
a cheap silver bracelet
a broken rubber bracelet
a rock painted pink
a theater ticket
a pinwheel
a gold star
an Easter egg

Sometimes I photograph the objects. Some I photograph here at home. Others I leave where they are and return later to photograph them in situ.

Yesterday's collection got me thinking.

I've been on the fence about whether I want to do a 365 days project for 2015. Mostly because I've been waiting for an idea to strike, an idea compelling enough to get me excited about sustaining my streak for yet another year.

I think I found it.

I found it in the stuff I found. 

I was photographing this dirty, broken pink cancer awareness bracelet imprinted with the word "strength." It's just cheap rubber. A bit of trash. Found on a roadside. Nothing special. Broken. Useless. 

But the image of it struck me as somehow lovely. Beautifully tragic. Ironic and incongruous. Hopeful? Hopeless? All of the above. I look at it now and this simple, fallen object tells a story.

Artists make art from found objects all the time. (It's the best kind of recycling. It's also a helpful way to clean up the neighborhood.) So for next year, I think maybe that's what I'll do. 

Who knows? It might be a good idea.

Look out for fallen objects!