Showing posts with label weeding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weeding. Show all posts

Monday, July 30, 2012

Never admit your road to inner peace



JAN BROGAN -  Last week,  I had about six waking hours to critique eleven news stories from high school students. After I met my deadline, but before I had to bring the papers back to class, 
 I opened the refrigerator to get something to eat. I had only an hour and a half to shower and get changed, but I  was suddenly consumed with an overriding passion to clean the refrigerator. 


No. I am not a clean-freak.  In fact, I am SO not a clean-freak that should my husband ever leave me, my biggest fear is what the house would look like a month after he was gone.  I am SO not a clean-freak that I sometimes forget about laundry for weeks on end. If someone snuck in and ransacked my office - looking for an important clue to a mystery, of course -  I would never even notice.


And yet, every now and then I take an unusual amount of pleasure in cleaning out the refrigerator.  And so it was last Tuesday. With a burnt out brain, cleaning, scrubbing and reorganizing the contents of the refrigerator was just so satisfying.  Afterward, with just the right number of condiments pruned from the shelves, I felt revived, calm, and maybe just a little powerful.


 This is not just me.  My husband (although he is a clean freak) takes this pleasure in cleaning the car (and yes, my car, too) every single weekend.  My aunt (not a clean freak) used to really love polishing silver.


So what strange menial tasks bring you YOUR BLISS?


HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Ironing. I love to iron. I love to iron wrinkly, damp men's oxford cloth shirts, and make then starchy and perfect. Now that I say this, I am overwhelmed with double entendre, which I promise you I did not mean. I am going to stop now, and find a menial chore that's less graphic and suggestive. (Or is it just me? And it's just--ironing?)


JAN: Yes Hank,  I think we have a new Fifty Shades of Starch thing happening, here. 


HANK: For the record, I have NEVER loved cleaning the refrigerator, or cleaning anything else. Once I put my spices in alphabetical order, that was fun.  And I arranged my jackets by color. Also fun. That's it, sisters.


HALLIE EPHRON: Don't let me near your laundry. I specialize in shrinking adult clothing to child-sized, turning white things pink, and my ironing skills are minimal. 


I do rather like to weed. Under bushes and around plants, not in the lawn, ever. In fact, I've been known to pull wturn a eeds from the front yards of complete strangers and our town library. So satisfying, pulling black swallow-wort by the roots. I can't help myself. 


JAN: Weeding, really? That's the reason I hate gardening. I can be somewhat upbeat about the planting (despite the dirty fingernails), but it's the relentless need to weed that makes me want to pave the yard.


JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: For me, it's organizing. Which is ironic, as I may be the least organized woman in the state of Maine. But under pressure from deadlines or a particularly knotty plot problem, I will line up spices by alphabetical order, separate all the different types of bath products into coordinating containers, and convert an unsightly heap of papers into a stack of labeled manilla folders. 

I suspect it's the sense of instant accomplishment that makes these menial tasks so compelling. All of us do work that takes months and sometimes years to complete. Being able to start and finish a job in an hour or two? That's heaven.


LUCY BURDETTE: Laundry. Utterly satisfying to start with an enormous pile of dirty clothes, herd them through washer and dryer (or out on the line if the weather holds), and then fold into neat piles. Ironing? Only if absolutely necessary. I have perfected the art of extracting a shirt from the dryer to hang at just the right moment so the wrinkles are minimized.


In fact I've done four loads today when I NEED to be writing...


RHYS BOWEN: Oh dear--ironing? Cleaning the refrigerator? Have I stepped into the wrong universe here? I was once being interviewed and the interviewer was listing my accomplishments and said "is there anything you can't do?" And I replied "Ironing." Me neither she said.
My mother ironed everything. Sheets. My father's underpants. I am terrible at it. Maybe if it gave me success and satisfaction I would do it more. 
But polishing furniture--that's a menial task I do enjoy. So satisfying to see it gleaming. And sitting on the balcony with a glass of chilled wine, shelling peas or preparing other vegetables... that's okay too!
Yours from the Olympics where I saw badminton today!


JAN: We are SO JEALOUS!! (not about the furniture polishing, about the Olympics -- although I have to admit to enjoying polishing furniture - even though I rarely do it.)


ROSEMARY HARRIS: I think I have an iron ....somewhere. The last time I was moved to use it was for a tablecloth. As I recall I got a big rust stain on it and had to use a different one. Wrinkled, but no one noticed.


Weeding is definitely a good one. But my go-to mindless activity, any time of the year, is rearranging the furniture. The anchors stay the same - sofa, bed and three enormous armoires, but anything else is fair game. End tables, coffee tables, shelf units, my office. Collections of... things. What's amazing to me is how much I always love the new arrangement - even if it's the same as it was a year or so before.


DEBORAH CROMBIE: I can't iron.  I have very few things that need ironing, and if it must be done, I ask my husband, who is a crack ironer. (Is that a word?) But I'm afraid that I, like Jan, fall into the cleaning out the fridge category. I've just finished a brutal week of revisions, where I've not had time to cook or to shop, and I am completely brain dead.  What I need is a long nap.  What I did was clean out the frig.  It's sort of a fresh-start thing, isn't it?
-- 


JAN:  The weeding I just don't get. But even though I NEVER do it myself, I can see the appeal of room-rearranging. But as Debs clearly understands, it could never stack up to the nirvana of tossing out expired sour cream and scrubbing the vegetable bin.


Okay, we've all bared our souls about our lower-order brain machinations, but how about you -- what dull, routine, dirty, stupid or downright Susy Homemaker task brings you inner peace?

Monday, June 1, 2009

On weeding other people's gardens


HALLIE: The other day I walked by the local branch of my public library and there, growing under a yew bush by the sidewalk, was a seedling of an ailanthus tree, aka ‘weed tree.’ Never mind that this was not my garden, not my problem, I had to stop and yank its little roots out. It was all I could do to keep myself from going after the nearby dandelion and burgeoning milkweed, too.

I know, I know, life’s too short to be weeding other people’s gardens. But I can’t help myself. I can’t let a grammatical error go by during a newscast, either. Oh, no, I have to correct the anchor person right then and there. Never mind that they can’t hear me.

More things that are none of my business but that I am constitutionally unable to ignore: corn kernels stuck to my husband’s chin (no, I cannot wait until after dinner for you to wipe it away), sleep grungies in my daughter’s eye (never mind that she’s a grownup), an open drawer or cabinet in someone else’s house (closed is so much tidier)…and and and.

“Meddling” or “helping”? Do I think I'm making the world a better place? Are there things that you, too, simply cannot keep yourself from "correcting"? Any hints on how to stop myself?

JAN: I can honestly say I've never in my life had to resist the urge to weed someone else's garden. My problem is more having to force myself to weed my own garden. Other people's grammatical mistakes do make me crazy, but it's just to rude to correct them. I think I am probably the worst in this area, with my poor daughter. I am pretty relentless about stopping her overuse and misuse of the term "literally," and before she took up Pilates I constantly pulled back her shoulders and told her to stand up straight. I also lecture about money. She's amazingly good-natured about this, god bless her.

HALLIE: Did I say I weed my OWN garden? I am a haphazard gardener, at best--but that doesn't stop me from weeding someone else's.

RHYS: I have never tried to weed someone else's garden either. If you saw what was growing on my hillside, you'd know that I don't often get to mine. I think I'm only guilty of meddling/helping when it comes to my children, especially the two that are now out of work. It's so easy to say, "Have you thought of... why don't you..." and they remind me that they are adults and don't need my advice. We can't stamp out that mothering instinct, even when they reach their thirties.

But one last thing, Hallie, grammatical errors drive me mad too. How many newscasters these days get lay and lie mixed up? Or use words like irregardless.
Ugghhh. That's because grammar is no longer drummed into kids in school. It worked much better when nuns walked around with a ruler in their hands.

RO: OMG, rulers on hands...I'm having flashbacks and I only went to Catholic school for two months in the first grade. Hallie, please feel free to come and weed my garden. This year I've been in "throw mulch over it and maybe it will die" mode. Faster than handweeding.

I'm a terrible meddler/commenter - particularly when no one can hear me. From "why did the director spend so much time on that scene" to "fine, you're one car length ahead of me, jerk, now where are you going to go?" to "lose the flip-flops, honey, you're not at the beach." Mercifully, these comments are generally spoken at a safe distance from anyone's ears except my husband's, and he wisely ignores me, although we sometimes joke about how wonderful things will be when I assume my rightful place as Queen and can control these miscreants.

Bad behavior and grammatical errors will also be duly noted, but I'm most likely to want to smack someone around for the flagrant and repetitive usage of "I was like.." spoken into a cell phone by someone walking in front of me too slowly for my liking. (Wearing flip-flops makes it worse.)

Perhaps I should carry a ruler until the crown and sceptre thing comes through?

HALLIE: Crown and sceptre--great idea! Order up six sets. Oops make that 5. I think Her Royal Rhysness is already equipped.

ROBERTA: I totally, actually, thoroughly relate to the pulling-the-shoulders-back thing, only I torture my husband. And he's taking pilates so he should know better! And he does this thing where he picks his nails too--he doesn't shred them, he just makes a little clicking noise that drives me bonkers. Luckily, he's otherwise a gem and he's gracious about my nagging.

I also have a thing for noticing bad manners in kids--fortunately I mutter about this to myself. When did it stop being right to say please and thank you, and call parents Mr. and Mrs. instead of their first names? And about being the queen, we used to tell our kids that all these manners were important for the day they got invited to lunch with the queen or at the White House. My stepson did get to have lunch at the WH, and got a big kick out of reporting how well he behaved.


HANK: Meddle? Okay, how about this. Today we were at the Botanical gardens in Brooklyn, (roses galore, photos to come), and it's pouring down sun. Ninety degrees, maybe. Pouring down sun. And there are MOTHERS with BABIES in STROLLERS with NO HATS. (Babies with no hats, not strollers with no hats, I know,I know Hallie, don't wince at me.) I was all I could do, I tell you, all I could do, not to go up to them and say--hey sister, You are RUINING your kid's life and skin.

I didn't, but should I have?

And did you see that photo of Tom Brady on a bicycle, with his son in a back carrier? The son had a helmet, but not Tom. Stupid! He gets over his knee thing, and now is inviting a head injury. Maybe I'll just give him a quick call...

HALLIE: Please, someone, save us from ourselves! What do you think? And please, do NOT point out any spelling and grammatical errors in this column...