My Manifesto

As I was putting on my SPF 15 tinted moisturizer the other day, I was reminded of that song from a decade or so ago. You know the one I'm talking about, right? It was on the radio nonstop. The sunscreen song.

Anyway--it got me thinking: what would I include in my manifesto? Here's what I came up with . . .

• Read product labels--but don't obsess.
• Give yourself time-outs, as well as a bedtime.
• Say thank you.
• Use people's names when addressing them.
• Make eye contact.
• Banish multitasking from your to-do list.
• Make a gratitude list--particularly when you're feeling blue.
• Don't be afraid to get in the game.
• Be comfortable enough to sit back and watch.
• Watch a tree on its metamorphosis through the seasons.
• Write a personalized note in every greeting card you send.
• Buy a refillable pen and refill it when the ink runs out.
• Reduce, reuse, recycle. Always.
• Visit the library.
• Proofread your own work.
• Know where your food comes from.
• Smile at babies.
• Eat mindfully.
• Make time for an afternoon cup of tea.
• Master a few great recipes.
• Keep your e-mail inbox clean.
• Make soup from scratch.
• Set the alarm clock for the real time you want to get up. Say no to the snooze button.
• Do yoga because it feels good--not because everybody else is doing it.
• Shoes stay downstairs.
• Savor every last bit.
• Smile more often.
• Take the time before bed to simplify your morning routine.
• Don't waste time envying others.
• Declutter.
• Take more photographs.
• Listen to the lyrics.
• Shop the perimeter of the grocery store.
• Make a shopping list and stick to it.
• Wear heirloom jewelry.
• Burn that candle and use that soap you've been hanging on to.
• Stop second-guessing--but never stop questioning.
• Eat a rainbow of colors.
• Build your own food pyramid.
• Be nice to yourself.
• Try not to eat foods your great-grandma wouldn't recognize.
• Say a silent farewell to the roadkill squirrels.
• Be informed.
• Don't get sucked into the sensationalism of the news.
• Don't forward e-mail chain letters promising good luck if you pass this along to 10 friends in the next 6 minutes.
• Google yourself every now and then.
• Face your finances.
• Set up a bird feeder outside a window.
• Cook with fresh herbs.
• Send a card just because.
• Make your own hot chocolate mix.
• Listen closely to your grandparents' stories.
• Be confident enough to go it alone.
• Be open to companionship.
• Take deep breaths.
• Avoid artificial sweeteners, colors, and flavors.
• Hug someone every day. Pets count.
• Watch the sun set.
• Experience more sunrises.
• Reconnect.
• Give yourself a break.
• Write neatly.
• Shred your own cheese.
• Consider the packaging when making a purchase.
• Be open to a wide genre of music, books, and films. You never know . . .
• Take a staycation.
• And yes--always wear sunscreen.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after.

Observations on My Sense of Observation

I have always fancied myself to be a pretty observant person, taking mental note of all the random little things that often go unregistered. Like the two small cups of Dunkin' Donuts coffee one of my old professors used to bring to every class. Or the ladybug design on the PLU sticker on my apple. Or the surprising number of people at the grocery store who buy those sugar wafer cookies. So, when I was climbing across the passenger seat of my car a few days ago, getting my trusty l'il Honda ready for its end-of-lease inspection, I couldn't believe what I noticed: a sticky mark on my windshield from where a piece of tape once held the spec sheet on my car.

I've had this car for three and a half years now, and I'm just noticing this tape on my windshield? What else have I been living with, ignorant of its existence? True, my purse and shoes don't often match--yet they're not artfully mismatched in that Clinton- and Stacy-approved way. I've spied a poppyseed in my teeth hours after eating an everything bagel for breakfast. I sometimes wear a gold ring along with my stainless steel watch. The horror, I know. But at the end of the day, who cares really. Does it make me less intelligent, less presentable, less successful? No, no, and no. So what if there's a line of sticky gunk on my passenger side windshield that has been there for the past 41 months.

But if you ever see me walking around with the 100% lambswool tag hanging from the sleeve of my coat or (gasp, shudder) the little white stitches on the back waistband of my pants, then you can judge me. Until then, I'm owning up to my smudges and imperfections.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. ("Imperfectly Yours" photo credit Mel B. via Creative Commons--thank you!)

Related posts: And Then There Was One

Quotation: On Happiness . . .

Today was the perfect lazy Saturday. The pouring rain, chilly temperature, and dark sky all beckoning me to hunker in on the couch with a pot of tea and a new magazine. And that's exactly what I did. Me and my May issue of O magazine. Cover to cover. A good three hours.

I bookmarked page 171 because I came across this quote that perfectly captures the spirit of good karma housekeeping:

"The essence of happiness is that feeling of engagement with the world and with other people."

Yes! Yes! A thousand times, yes.

There's plenty of room in my memory for experiences--but my closets, drawers, shelves, and cabinets just can't take on any more stuff.

Maybe it's part of growing up, or maybe it's just me realizing that the people in my life aren't always going to be here, but I'll take a great time over a great sweater any day. . .

> Read the article, What Really Makes People Happy, on oprah.com.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. (Photo (c) 2009 Jupiterimages Corporation)

The Haves and the Have Nots

I used to have this pink tee shirt when I was a kid that had a big, glittery iron-on patch emblazoned on it. In between an up arrow and a down arrow were the words "Everything's going up but my allowance."

I hated that shirt, mostly because I didn't get an allowance. Now, to be fair, I didn't do anything around the house to warrant an allowance. But still, the grown-ups all thought the tee shirt was hilarious and adorable. I just felt like an impostor and did everything I could to avoid wearing that ridiculous shirt. All it did was remind me what I did not have, which made me feel different. And when you're nine years old, different is not good.

I spent many years of my life thinking that more was better. More toys. More clothes. More friends. More books. More rooms. More vacations. More money. In a literal sense, I was pretty well off. But figuratively speaking I felt poor. Even when I had plenty, it didn't feel like enough.

Enough for whom?

A few years (and a few thousand down dogs) ago, it finally started to make sense: stuff does not equal happiness. Simple but true. It's hard to keep sight of that when everyone I know seems to have jetted off somewhere tropical this winter, or is dressed in a new pair of designer jeans, or heading out for dinner and drinks. Stuff does Not. Equal. Happiness.

It's why I could have a cashmere sweater in every color that J.Crew offers, or a love-it size scoop of Cold Stone Creamery's Founder's Favorite ice cream (in a waffle bowl) every day of the week and still want for something more. Less is more. The less I want and the less I try to "keep up," the more fulfilled I feel. Simple as that. And if I can find someone who will appreciate my unneeded things--stuffed bunny rabbits, a freshwater pearl necklace, a box full of holiday decorations, and so on--well, that's what good karma housekeeping is all about.

I watched Michael J. Fox speak on Oprah today about what it's like living with a degenerative disease. Something he said stood out to me so much that I hit pause and rewind a few times just so I could scribble it all down:

Happiness grows in direct proportion to your acceptance and in inverse proportion to your expectations. . . . This is what I have today. I don't have a choice about this, but I have a million other choices. And if I choose well, I am going to be a happy person.

If the only real way to find happiness is to accept the reality that is today and fill it with the best option for whatever choices are in your control, well that's what living rich is all about.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less really is more.

Better Late Than Never, Right?

I had brunch today with an old college friend whom I haven't seen in a dozen years. And as we stood in line giving each other the abridged version of our lives post-college, I pulled out a CD from my bag that I had borrowed from her in 1995.

We had a good laugh about it, and she had always wondered what happened to it--not remembering whom she had lent it to. What happened to it was that I liked it. A lot. So, I listened to it over and over again throughout our senior year. And then, in 1996 when we graduated and went our separate ways, that CD got swept up in my own collection and made its way back to Connecticut with me. Intentional or not, I cannot remember, but I never forgot whom I borrowed it from. I knew our paths would cross again sometime, so I just held onto it. Sure I could have sent it, but the look on her face, all these years later, was priceless.

Better late than never, right? At least CD technology is still around . . .

(The coveted CD: The Angel in the House by Jonatha Brooke's old duo, The Story.)

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--both mentally and physically--to live happily ever after.

Just Do It: Clear the Clutter

Decluttering FOO (Friend of Oprah) Peter Walsh claims all you need is  15 minutes a day, every day, to wrangle the piles around your house. The charmingly downhome FlyLady swears by the 27-Fling Boogie to rid yourself of all the junk that's bogging you down. Even my kindergarten teacher, Miss Panda, had a quick, effective technique that she called Chipmunk Clean-Up to get us to put away all the crayons, books, puzzles, and blocks that we had scattered about.

All three had the same idea: just do it. Chop chop. No dilly-dallying. All too often, however, I'll get sidetracked in my cleaning pursuits--simply because I don't have a plan of attack. I see messes, I see piles, I see some really boring tasks ahead of me and my instinct is to see what's on HGTV. Maybe if I watch just one (more) show about other people's houses, then I'll be inspired to tackle the clutter.

So, tonight, I turned on some rousing music, set the kitchen timer for 15 minutes, and went to it. I emptied the dishwasher, washed the pots, loaded the new round of dirty dishes, recycled that red wine vinegar bottle from three days ago, put last week's grocery list and some random receipts in the recycling bin, gave the stovetop a quick scrub and the countertops a wipe down, put away two pairs of my boots and three pairs of shoes, folded the reusable grocery bags, and yes--dear FlyLady--I even shined my sink. (To her standards, no, but anything is better than nothing, right?)

All in 15 minutes? Well, not quite. I tacked another 8 minutes onto the timer, but the kitchen is pretty darn spiffy right now, if I do say so myself.

So, what are you waiting for? Go clear the clutter--one pile at a time.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--both mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. (image from The Household Helper)