Prepare! [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

It’s true. When one of our children alerts us that they are coming for a visit, life as we know it instantly enters a high-energy-whirling-dervish phase. Kerri begins spinning so fast that she blurs. Dogga and I seek cover.

Eventually, a list of assigned duties comes flying from the tornado. A small piece of paper lands at my feet. I try to make sense of the instructions that whip out of the whirl but sound travels slower than my bride and, in her spinning, I can only catch every third word. With my list in hand and a puzzle of instruction, I begin my tasks, careful to stay out of the path of the funnel-cloud-of-excitement whizzing about the house.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE VISIT

like. support. share. comment.

buymeacoffee is easily less dangerous than kerri cleaning house.

Don’t Move [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab].

There is a stack of books by her bedside. Strategies for cleaning out the house without doing psychological damage. Strategies for transcending deep emotional attachment to things so the cleaning out process can commence. As a dedicated minimalist, someone who’s spent the majority of life accumulating no more possessions than could fit in my car, I can only watch her go through the heart-grind of the her necessary preparation.

I learned my lesson early in our life together. She left for the afternoon and I thought it might be a good idea to clean the basement. She still has not recovered from the damage I did to her organizational system. I have not recovered from the searing look she gave me when I proudly showed her the newly cleaned basement.

And so, the necessary purge preparation has begun. I remain at-the-ready, afraid to move until…

read Kerri’s blogpost about CLEANING OUT

like. share. support. comment. many thanks!

buymeacoffee is…

Whirl The Dervish [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

I’m sure I’ve previously written that Kerri does nothing in straight lines. Dogga runs circles and I tell him he comes by it naturally. He’s just like his momma.

The first time I watched Kerri vacuum I felt as if I was watching and episode of I Love Lucy. She whirled the Shark in a rapid circle, a mad-cleaning-ballet, and was soon tangled in the cord, looped to a chair, and tied to the machine. The knot of Kerri, vacuum and wicker chair teetered and tumbled to the floor. “Do you need some help?” I asked.

These days, when the vacuum comes out, Dogga runs to the backdoor. He wants nothing to do with what is about to happen. I’m driving. I believe in straight lines.

We’ve agreed that it’s my job to use the cleaning appliances with cords. Her natural dervish isn’t dangerous when she’s not plugged into the wall. A Swiffer is safe. A broom. But, like any untethered tornado, it’s probably best to stay out of her way.

read Kerri’s blogpost on this saturday morning smack-dab.

smack-dab. © 2022 kerrianddavid.com

Feed The Fable [on Merely A Thought Monday]

i didn't even notice copy

DogDog is a furry beast. He sheds like a champion. I vacuum every other day to stay ahead of the fur onslaught. In my defense I can only say that it is not my vacuum. We are guests in our little house. I realized too late that the vacuum cleaner bag was full. I realized too late that the replacement bag in the cupboard was the wrong size. I learned too late that, here on island, the mercantile doesn’t carry vacuum bags. I now know that Amazon will have new vacuum bags delivered to us by Tuesday, a full five days after my first vacuum revelation.

While we await the arrival of the bags, Kerri has placed a strict moratorium on visitors entering our little house. No one is permitted to see the mess. When someone walks up our driveway, we meet them in the yard. We steer them around the little house to the lake side chairs. We chirp with anxiety if they make a step toward the house.

I suspect we are not the only people who chirp, who sweep things under the rug, turn the lights low when guests are on the way, clean the house before the cleaners come. Once, on my honey-do list, was this: clean house before the electrician arrives. I did. The electrician, a nice young man, worked in a spotless environment. He inhabited and fully participated in our illusion of clean.

You know who your friends are when you allow them beyond the curtain of clean, when you permit them to see what’s behind THAT door in the basement. You really know who your friends are when they return from the clutter zone and say things like, “It wasn’t that bad,” or “I didn’t even see any piles of stuff.” Your real friends, the people that really love you, support you in your illusions. Or, is that delusions? Either way, thanks Dan. We’re glad you returned from the basement to tell the fable.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about THE BASEMENT

 

snapchat website box copy

Go Inward

a new painting perfect for winter and inward looking. it’s part of a set in my sacred series.

“The doctor may explain why the patient is dead, but never why the patient is alive.” ~Declan Donnellan

Once, tromping through a biodynamic vineyard, Barney explained to me that winter is the time for the energy of the vine to go to the root. The vine that appears dormant above ground is, in fact, actively recharging below the surface. The energy goes inward. The root rejuvenates, drinking in the minerals necessary for the new growth of the coming spring. The fruit of the summer is impossible without the rejuvenation of winter.

We are not so different from the vines though language can trick us into compartmentalizing, perceiving winter as distinct and separate from summer, the inhale as a separate action from the exhale, tides that ebb and then flow. Cycles of life have compartments in study but never in real life. The compartments are made up for the convenience of categorization and conversation.

These past few weeks we’ve been cleaning out our house, going through old boxes and files, shredding old bills, carrying furniture and computer carcasses to the curb. Old clothes are going away. Closets and bins are emptied. The house is beginning to breathe. There is space. Spaciousness. We are laughing at old pictures, sometimes cringing. This day’s new-found spaciousness inspires the next day’s cleaning rampage. It is invigorating. Rejuvenating.

and this is the other half of the set. winter has me looking inward and exploring simplicity in line and space.

Our cleaning tsunami wasn’t planned. Our computer crashed. Our work was interrupted. Our expression was limited. We complained and resisted and then turned our energies elsewhere. Inward. Going through and releasing old stuff, past lives, creating space, is rejuvenating. We are taking our time. We are going slowly. It is oddly restful.

Driving home from our walk in the woods, we laughed at ourselves. Mock-praising our virtuous cleaning, exaggerating and inflating our new found spaciousness to full spiritual illumination, we pretended we’d achieved life beyond wanting, living without yearning. Consciousness beyond compartments. Wiping laughter-tears from her eyes, Kerri said, “Wait! This could be boring! What is life without desiring some red wine while cooking dinner? What about the pleasure of yearning for morning coffee? With all this new found space….”