Day 56 (Or: Oops, I skipped a day!)

One of the stalwart One Thousand Days readers (one of the 27), when I pointed out that I'd skipped day 56, said that she considered it her good deed NOT to tell me that I'd made a mistake.  HA!  I love it.

But we can't just leave that hole there, can we?

No.  So here we go. 

Last night, or early this morning, in the last throws of the dream-state, when all of the wonderful and meaningful thoughts coalesce and gel into a sub-conscious lump of destiny, I dreamed the most lovely things.  I was in an old building, tall ceilings, dark wood, and glowing light, and I was teaching a small group of women a hand craft.  Something involving rose-buds and doll-making.  And toward the end of the class, the mayor came into the room and sat on the edge of the group. 

I watched her watching what we were doing, and eventually she reached in for a rosebud and started fiddling with it.  I let the others work on their projects and went and sat with the mayor and started at the beginning of the project again. 

In the dream, the mayor was very much The Mayor, but there was no political talk, I purposely refrained from drawing attention to her, or from putting her on the spot or getting a conversation going about local issues (of which there are many).  Instead, my focus was to build a bridge between The Mayor, her personal self, and the people - the others in the class.

Ramblerambleramble.  All of this, I realized upon waking, is really a symbol for the joy and hope that I feel about current projects (monkeys) and work (Leckenby Co.). Day 56 (which isn't really day 56) of One Thousand Days I build bridges through crafting.  I.  Love.  It.

56 down...and...oh you know the rest.

Day 59 (Or: The Great Monkey Maneuver)

You've been hearing about it, and now it's happened!

No, I didn't lose my mind.  And no, I haven't started a speed dating group...and no, I most certainly haven't finished my novel.  Geesh.  There's a whole lot that I haven't done.  But what I HAVE done, this morning, Small Business Saturday, is launch The Great Monkey Maneuver!

What's this, you wonder?  "Frankly, I think you HAVE lost your mind, darling." You mutter under your breath.  I heard that. 

Here's the thing.  Sock monkeys.  They're totally adorable.  And enjoyable.  And they make me laugh.  Seriously. 

I made one monkey, every stitch by hand, loving the feel of the sock and the thread, and loving the funny ears and the hillarious red butt.  And he charmed my boy and I in ways that we hadn't imagined.  And then the most amazing thing happened.  My favorite 2 year old boy came over, walked straight to the monkey, picked the monkey up by the tail, poked at a button eyeball, and immediately took the sock-turned-monkey to show his mama.  The monkey clearly belonged to him, and now he has a name - "Hoo-Hoo-Ha" - and a premanent home with a most delightful boy.

I WANT MORE OF THAT!  I want monkeys to be EVERYWHERE and I want to be the one to make that happen!

The Great Monkey Maneuver, I'll have you know, is a sock monkey and 40th birthday initiative. I will be 40 years old in one week, exactly. And in honor of my 40th birthday, I will sell 40 sock monkeys!

In case you're curious, here's the original, the loving, the adored-by-favorite-2-year-old-boy Hoo-Hoo-Ha:

And I donated this monkey to a service auction, to raise money for QUUF:

And I'll donate THIS monkey to my favorite non-profit kid place and coffee house, The Boiler Room, for their auction, coming up in December:

And the rest are yours! 

So, The Great Monkey Maneuver, is a sale of 40 monkeys, to be housed in 40 homes with 40 loving children or children at heart.  All in honor of turning 40 years old.  Because when you get old, it's important to engender the joy of being young. 

And what's more, the first 40 monkeys will come with a $4.00 discount when the lucky purchaser uses the coupon code: 40MONKEY
Yes. 

Day 58 of One Thousand Days may just be the most wonderful yet.  Monkey business.

59 down, 941 to go.

Not a day (Or: Just a Moment for a Monkey)

Well would you look at that...



I'll be darned.

Day 58 (Or: Management Says So)

If you've been paying attention, you'll know that things have died in my yard, and The Management told me to get on it.  Management, in its infinite wisdom, also let me know in no uncertain terms that the trailer, which is only halfway Fluffed, needs to be fully Fluffed by the end of the week. 

The Management thinks that the Fluffing of the trailer will help with space issues, and that inventory, business operations and the writing of hillarious blogs can be housed in the trailer, thereby freeing up living space for...er...living.

The Management refuses to pay me until I've completed the task, so I guess I should get on it.

This is what a partially fluffed trailer looks like:

Day 58 of One Thousand Days I listen to my inner manager, get off the procrastination station and make something of the space that's needed in order to make things.  That Manager sure is a slave driver.

58 down, 943 to go.

Day 57 (or: The Janitor Was Fired Long Ago)

If you hadn't noticed, we're quickly approaching the most stressful time of the year.  Councilors and therapists and pastors and Besties the world over are girding their loins for the onslaught of serious depression and blues and near-suicidal anxiety. 

And I'm not talking about the holidays.  Or S.A.D. 

I'm talking about Parent/Teacher Conferences.

Darling boy child prepped me last night for what I might expect today in the dreaded bi-annual review, by telling me that I should imagine his brain thusly:

"Mom, it's like a huge hall full of lockers, dusty and cob-webby, and the janitor was fired a long time ago.  All of the lockers but one are locked tight and rusty.  That one locker?  It's unlocked, and it has the keys to all of the other lockers, and I know I can unlock all the other locks, but I'm too lazy to get off the couch and open it."

Well.  You can't say I wasn't warned. 

Day 57 of One Thousand Days I promised the boy that after being told by his teachers that he's a bright child but he just needs to.... (fill in the blank with whatever teacher-speak seems appropriate), I would NOT sigh in that pointed way (he reports that the sigh says "CALVIN!  YOU'RE DEAD TO ME!") and should instead understand that he's a pretty awesome dude with janitor issues.

57 down, 943 to go.

Day 55: (or: Why's everything dead?)

This is dead:

So is this:

And these:

And this:

And this happened:

So I figure it's about time to put the garden to "bed".   And if I don't do it (grumble), nobody else will.  Because Prince Charming doesn't exist, and neither do little charming helper animals (my animals just leave poop for me to "stumble" across while weeding), and neither do fairy god-mothers.  Although the Soup Fairy DOES exist (there was proof of the Soup Fairy delivered straight to my door last night). 

Day 55 of One Thousand Days, I'll be my own hero and deadhead all those dead heads out there.  Or at least 1/4 of them.  Or maybe just 3 or four of them.

55 down, 945 to go.

Day 54 (Or: Nicest - er...Funniest? - Rejection EVER!)

Determined to expand my reach, I've been "networking" lately, and this email response from Noa Gavin over there at OhNoa.com, made my day!  WARNING!  F-bombs in attendance.



On Fri, Oct 28, 2011 at 11:43 AM, C. E. Leckenby  wrote:

To Whom it May Concern:

I'm most interested in joining The League of Funny Bitches. Please forward application materials to www.oneofonethousanddays.blogspot.com Perhaps, if I don't qualify for The League, I might be assigned to be a Funny Bitch sidekick? I look good in a short cape and tights.

Yours in humor,
One Thousand Days of sort of funny, but also kind of productive and sometimes instructive with a healthy helping of wine and Brie on the side.

Cara E. Leckenby

One Thousand Days

From: Noa Gavin
To: C. E. Leckenby
Sent: Monday, November 7, 2011 7:58 PM
Subject: Re: Fledgling Funny Bitch
I'm so fucking impressed with your professional email I think I should not say fuck in this one.

I've already done it twice now, so there's no point in quitting. You're on the nominations list, lady, keep on being funny!

Cheers,

Noa Gavin

OhNoa.com

Funnier Than Your Grandma

54 down, 946 to go.

Day 53 (or: Now THIS is a Contest for Me!)

Literati!! 50 ways and 100 words to leave your lover! Our new contest “SIMON SAYS”

Hehe. I've got about One Thousand Days worth of ways to leave my lover.

Day 53 of One Thousand Days, I fancy myself a writer. I curbed my tongue (er...fingers) and wrote only 100 words about the Leaving of the The Bad Relationship, and I'm going to submit it to actual authors for their...er...approval? No. That's not it. I don't care about approval. Perusal.  Yes. That's the word. 

My entry, exactly 100 words on one of the 50 ways to leave a lover, and feel free to use this the next time you're leaving someone:

Food For Thought
The pancakes pleaded: “Please leave?”  The alphabet soup sounded out: “get out!”  The spaghetti, in cursive, politely told you your time was up.  Last night, the chocolate sauce you licked off my belly read: “I’m done” – granted, it was dark, and I didn’t really expect you to be able to read it.  But I had hoped…I burned the word DEPART into the toast, and between the grill lines on that steak, one could clearly read the anguish of all these years. This evening, in joyful, succinct and unmistakable terms, I’ll leave you with this one last thought:  An empty plate.

53 down, 947 to go. 

Day 52 (or: I've been Called)

Alright.  Hold onto your hats, because it's about to get a little weird up here in the blog.
Woo-woo weird. 

But life's like this sometimes, and one of the things that I've realized, slowly, since letting go of The Bad Relationship, and Corporate Life (alright - both of those things let go of me, but who's counting?), is that there's a message in the silence, in the moments in between.  We can listen to those messages or we can ignore them, and on Day 52 of One Thousand Days, I chose to listen.

Okay.  That last paragraph was only slightly woo-woo, but NOW it's going to get positively bizarre, so I really can't blame you if you want to skip down the page a bit.  Here's what's been going on:  I belong to a fellowship (read:  "church"), where I have been a volunteer youth educator on and off throughout the years, for various ages of kiddos.  This year, I agreed again to be an educator for the Middle School kids.  Ever since I made that agreement, I've been having all of these near-ESP-ish moments of synchronicity, in which someone repeats something I've been thinking on for a day or so, or I dream something that then happens the next day, or my thoughts settle on something that eventually is reality within the week. 

If you read through that paragraph, I TOLD YOU SO!  Weird.  Eventually this strangeness convinced me (hold on to your boots!) that I was being "called."  Called to be involved with the kiddos, and specifically involved with the kiddos QUUF in my sweet little home town. 

So I offered myself (weird ESP story and all) to our "church" Youth R(eligious) E(ducation) Director, and came home with the promise of more Middle School Madness than is healthy for any sane person (as I've demonstrated here, my sanity may be in question, so I'm PERFECT for the job!), and a craft project!  I LOVE CRAFTS! 

Day 52 of One Thousand Days, I'm going to put together the scrap book for the Youth Coming of Age program my son (that's him in the upper-center of the photo, below) and about 15 other kiddos went through last year.  Hurrah!

52 Down, 948 to go.

Oh, and I fluffed up the logo...it's not drastically different, but it's different!

Day 51 (or: Chase the blues away)

Today, oh glorious Day of Days, I woke up to find that those little ads over there to the right had earned me my first $.01! I'm a bona-fide, actual-like, professional blogger!  Well, now that I'm all legitimate, I have to think carefully about how I invest all $.01.  And to my mind, I should NOT invest in corporations which are counter to my ideals.  If a company puts single mothers on the street?  Right.  Not going to give them my money.  And if a company steals from little old ladies?  Oh hell no.  They're not getting MY money, the thieves!  And if a company kills baby seals?  Steals childrens' candy?  Kicks stray dogs? Makes fashion handbags out of old-growth timber?  Right again, they're not getting a (alright, my only) penny from me, the scumbags!

Well, the only thing that I know for sure The-Big-Bad-Corporate-Bank-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless has done is steal from little old ladies (I know a little old lady who's been most alarmingly conned by the smiling clerks in the blue shirts), although I suspect they're probably tangentially involved in all of the rest of those wicked activities above, and MORE.  So today, Day 51 of One Thousand Days, in solidarity with the Occupy Wall Street movement, and in support of my favorite little old lady, I emptied my bank accounts, and deposited the money in my new (old) Chases Chocolate Bank, where it will remain until I deposit it tomorrow at one of the local community oriented credit unions or local banks.

I feel so much better.  No more kicking stray dogs.  51 down, 949 to go.

Day 50 (Or: It only took 1,648 days...)

Wondering what happened to Mr. Wrong?  As my morning begins to unfold, and the call of the siren Internet pulls me and my ever constant mug-o-coffee to the keyboard, I know I am.  Wondering, that is.  And you know what?  I think, after 1,648 grueling days, I've fiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnaaaaaaalllly managed to wipe the Bad Relationship from my life. 

"Now what", you ask?  Thinking that there won't be any more hilarious bloggy admissions of midnight smooching, and elicit emails to confess. Lamenting the possibility that you won't be able to shake your head at the ridiculous and grasping antics of a (very cute and funny) spurned lover, as she struggles to find love and acceptance in all the wrong places.  Right now, you're leaning over your morning coffee and you're wondering if life on One Thousand Days will ever be the same, and you're (admit it) a little bit concerned. 

You may even be thinking:  "But, darling...Who will you think about when you've got nothing else to think about? Who will you exchange late night naughty text messages with?  Who will leave the lingering smell of wood and soap on your pillow? Who will move that huge piece of concrete out of your driveway?"

Well, since you asked, I'll tell you:  I'll think about what vegan and sugar free (mildly disgusting, but tasty once you get past the gag factor) melange to cook for dinner, I'll write funny and scathing Facebook status updates, I'll enjoy not being allergic to my own pillow and I'll bury the piece of concrete under a foot of pebbles - you'll never even know it was there.  Hah! 

Now, who's up for fixing me up with a friend?  I've got to fuel this blog somehow, or it'll be boring me-me-me ness for the next 950 days.  This is what I'm looking for:

Day 49 (Or: I Look Up)

And in a moment of silence, rather than pointing my nose at the ground, rather than hanging my head in shame or reverence, I look up.  Not because there's something up there, or because I'm waiting to be shone on or to receive divine intervention and guidance, but because it's beautiful up there.

Really.

Even though the window is North facing, and doesn't capture the Westward traveling sun, what I see through that window reminds me that I am both small and great, one of many, and that the week will begin with this light, with my feet planted firmly on the ground, and my eyes gazing (what a pompous word, but that's what they're doing!) up and out.

Day 49 of One Thousand Days, Sunday, the beginning of the week, I look up.

49 down, 951 to go.

Day 48 (or: I Blame Harry Potter)

Catchy title, no? But don’t get me wrong, I’m not just trying to lure you in with the Harry Potter label(although, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Harry Potter’s pretty huge right now, and I wouldn’t mind a piece of that), I actually mean it. It’s all Harry’s fault.

Harry and ultra-neatness. Yes. I visited The Spotless Bathroom again today, and I realized something. Somebody probably cleans that bathroom at least twice a day. Somebody who probably begrudges cleaning it. And maybe they really lament cleaning it with every fiber of their being, and maybe they'd do just about anything to avoid it, and maybe they gripe about it at night when they get home to their family. I know I would.

Now. How does this relate to Harry?  I'll tell you in a minute.  But first, an update: The Leckenby bathroom has stayed clean for almost 24 hours, but that’s likely largely due to the absence of the Leckenby boy. Of course, the Leckenby boy is due to return to his house (along with his dirty socks, toothpaste-cap-leaving-offness, and general dust-bunny-ness), and the bathroom’s fate is looming in the balance. And here’s the thing. This sort of struggle is pretty much a constant. Because, of course, the necessity for order and tidiness is a constant, as is the entropy which drags all order toward chaos. And therefore, I’m pretty much on the same wavelength as the poor soul who cleans The Spotless Bathroom. Constantly lamentable.

Which brings me back to Harry. Here’s what I do: I assuage lamentable things by indulging in compulsion, and for the last year and a half, I’ve used a particular tool to calm my brain (and alright, I admit it, to avoid cleaning the bathroom…and other things): I’ve re-read the Harry Potter series (all 7 books) over and over and over and over again. Probably 5 or 6 times over again (in varying order). Haven’t picked up a single novel other than Harry Potter since July 2009. Yep. Weird. So today, Day 48 of One Thousand Days, in accordance with blogging as therapy, I will (mid 5th book, no less) admit that I’ve been self-medicating with Harry Potter, and will stop.

I feel a bit like Linus without his security blanket, but 48 down, 952 to go.

Day 47 (or: The Bathroom's Come Down With Refrigerator Disease)

Hello, beautiful day! Beautiful, gray day! Beautiful, wet, muddy, gray day! Oh, okay, there’s nothing beautiful about today, which is just downright soggy. Nothing, that is, other than the bathroom. 

Day 47 of One Thousand Days, I drove my mother to what is the end of 2 weeks of a total of six weeks of daily radiation. And was inspired. Not by the drive that is by now rote (I swear, the car could drive itself), but by the bathroom at the clinic. Yes, indeed, potty inspiration! You saw it here, first! At any rate, the bathroom in the clinic is spotless. And smells like nothing. NOTHING. Not like soap, not like potty, not like clinic, not like antiseptic, not like a new car, or new money. It smells like nothing.

This, I surmise, is because it contains practically nothing. Nothing but a toilet, sink and towel dispenser. And it was so clean. No dust, no soap scum, no socks on the floor, no toothbrushes cluttering up the sink counter…nothing. And I’m in love with the nothingness. So much so, that I drove home, marched into the bathroom and emptied it of things. Now MY bathroom smells like nothing, too! Hurrah!  The bathroom and the refrigerator are now in the same club...the Ridiculously Clean Club.

And then I found this short video about a family who live a zero waste lifestyle: http://vitality.yahoo.com/video-second-act-the-johnson-family-24454760

Which just pushed me over the edge. And very directly toward nothingness bliss. Is it possible that my desire for nothingness is directly correlated to my recent inner clutter?

Whatever the inference, I can happily say: Watch out, THINGS, I’m coming for you! Yes, YOU!

Day 47 down, 953 to go.

Day 46 (or: What To Do With The Next 954 Days)

Have you ever felt stuck? Like you’re in a situation, a scenario, a scheme that dictates your movement in ways which annoy you at your core? I’m there right now. Stuck. And as a result, I’m about to force myself to embark on a journey. Another one. Spoiler alert! This journey, while it’s definitely One Thousand Days worthy, focuses pretty heavily on me.

The truth and reality of living in this human body, is that change is a constant. We humans are blessed and cursed by constant change in feelings, surroundings, body and mind. Change in occupation, change in lifestyle, change in friendships, yearnings, longings, needs. People are born, people die. People change.

Sometimes that means that the world is full of loveliness and light. Sometimes it means that the world is full of sorrow and grief.

I regret to report that a very large percentage of the recent Days, in between official Day postings, have been dark in ways that they shouldn’t be, and if I don’t do something about it, I have the feeling that I’ll be stuck all through the summer (if you live in the Pacific Northwest, you know how precious those summer days are, and how much we need to enjoy them while we can – all 10 days of them).

Now, this low place is not foreign territory. It’s a low in which I occasionally become mired, and have a difficult time extricating myself from without making Very Big Changes. Usually those changes come externally from a change in jobs or in circles of influence or in surroundings or habits. But right now, the world is fairly static, and the changes aren’t just going to pop up on the horizon, I have to make them happen in a more conscious and purposeful way.

After my last posting, I asked friends to tell me what my next Thing should be. One friend intrigued me by suggesting that I should tell myself the truth, no matter what I tell anyone else. So Day 46 of One Thousand Days, I’ll start by saying: Carita, my dear, you’re not happy, and you’d better do something about it. Blogging as therapy.

46 down, 954 to go.

Day 45 (or: Walk it, Baby, Walk it!)

Yep.  It's valentines day again.  Can't seem to avoid it.  At least once a year, inundated by pink, and red and sugar and mooshy love. 

Meh.  Forget that.  I'm'ona eat steak, drink bloody mary's and shop.

And once again pledge to walk to raise awareness and funds for the National MS society.

In April, darling child and I will be walking in the area "walk" with our friend the who shouldn't be suffering from this terrible illness on the "Sole Sisters" team.  Nobody should be suffering with it.  Least of all, someone who's spunky. 

Day 45 of One Thousand Days, I do exactly what I was doing about a year ago on day 28. I pledge to walk.  Want to join us?  Or fund us?  Or point and laugh at us?  Just click the links below to check out the possibilities.

45 down, 955 to go.  

Day 44 (or: Great Gulping Gargoyles, What IS That?)

Todays thing is mildly disgusting.  And sort of amusing.  And enlightening.  And disgusting. 

It's the fridge, you see, it's a massive vortex which sucks in leftovers and doesn't give them back until they're completely unidentifiable.  Sometimes it sucks in non-leftovers.  Actually, a lot of the time it sucks in non-leftovers.  Something that went into the fridge red, comes out green, something that was yellow is now black.  It's sort of scary.  Really, worse than the results of a few weeks time spent in the fridge, are the statistics about food waste.  According to Next Generation Food, and Jodie Humphreys, the following disturbing food waste statistics are worth a second look:

• In the US, food waste has increased by 50 percent since 1974
• 40 percent of all the food produced in the US is thrown out
• Food waste accounts for more than a quarter of freshwater consumption and 300 million barrels of annually.
• Food is the third largest waste stream after paper and yard waste
• 8.3 million tonnes of food is thrown away by households in the UK annually
• In the UK, city dwellers generally waste the most food, with the worst culprits being single men, aged between 25 and 35

Blech.  Really?  Well of course, really.  Judging by the contents of my fridge, I'd say that all sounds about right.  And is also fairly disturbing.  Especially given the hunger in the world.  What's left out of this nice little list, is the dollar amount associated with these statistics of waste.  Maybe a realization of the hit to the pocket book would help? 

Might help me, anyway, as I have been a horrible, wasteful, mindless and absurd glutton.  And it must stop. 

So here it is:  According to the Stockholm International Water Institute, all that food waste amounts to 43.8 billion bucks in the U.S. alone.  Gack!

So, after recovering from sticker shock, I cleaned the fridge, and now the garbage can is halfway full, even though pick-up day was yesterday.  And today, Day 44 of One Thousand Days, I pledge to not throw any food away for the next 7 days.  I figure this is a good start, and gives me a chance to report back at the end of said days.  I'm well pleased with my progress today, and now my fridge looks like this: 

44 down, 956 to go.

 

Day 43 (Or: Sell All The Things!)

New!  And improved!

Me, that is.  Did you know, that since my last post (in November - wow, does time fly) I began living my 40th year on this planet?  That is to say, I turned 39.  I'll celebrate the 40th anniversary of my arrival on this green and splendiferous earth next December, but in fact, I am now living my 40th year.  Weird. 

What's that got to do with the price of tea in China?  A heck of a lot!  You try turning 40, and tell me that it's not a seriously important and momentous thing, full of yearning, and joy, strife and struggle, excitement and promise. 

The whole tenor of my "Things" has altered.  I'm feeling rather self involved about my "Things."  For example, I've been leaning toward tattoos and piercings, and image issues such as:  Why the heck don't I wear my strappy sandals more often?  or:  Does my hair really need to be the color of a field mouse?   I imagine doing "Things" like taking up sky-diving as a hobby, or running for office, or walking from the West coast to the East coast.  "Things" that are momentous and reputation building, and life affirming and loud and colorful. 

I guess that's what you do when you turn (or at least are looking at turning) 40.  I know, I know, it's really very typical and boring, isn't it.  Would you like a little mid-life crisis?  Yes indeed, I'd love some, thank you.  And if you could throw in some bristly hairs on the chin, a nice crop of crows feet and a gray hair or two, I'd think myself the luckiest woman in the world!

Well, it's not all tragedy.  I finally did something that I've been wanting to do since I turned 18.  I opened a store, and I'm selling vintage, kitsch, retro, interesting, quality, fun things.  And better yet, before I sell said things, I get to SHOP for said things.  Okay, I admit, it's an eBay store, but still!  I get to shop!  And maybe I'll even make money!  Don't let me fool you, true to self, I've planned the heck out of this endeavor, devised several pretty serious mathematical tables and algorithms to ensure success, and I've given myself 3 months to make a go of it or else I'll drop it flat, which is the joy of eBaying (instant start and instant stop!)

Day 43 of One Thousand Days, I'm proud to announce Diamond L Co. Vintage and Eclectic.

May it be fruitful!

43 down, 957 to go.