The 2011 Challenge: April
The end of April marks the fourth update on the the #Reverb10 prompt for my blog-along with MathNerd314 and SunflowerAKB.
Here is the prompt for those who may have missed the first post:
What are 11 things your life doesn't need in 2011?
How will you go about eliminating them?
How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life?
My list of 11 things.
************************************
All things being equal, the tally sheet for April lies significantly in favor of the side "Things Added to ChemGal's Life" over the "Things Subtracted from ChemGal's Life". But all things aren't equal. In April, a new dining room set was delivered, a new bicycle was purchased, two comfy chairs were ordered, and numerous parts were assembled for our Do-It-Yourself Sprinkler System. Some stress, some sadness, some loneliness, some worry left with these additions. That, I believe, makes the tally sheet more even.
The ChemHouse finished enough of the living room project that we were able to have People over (as in, a real dinner celebration) for the first time since we purchased the house. We rearragned the first floor, repurposing the designed dining room as a sunny reading room and placing the (new!) dining room table in half of the main room. Friends who own a home of nearly the same design really liked our use of the space. I might be biased, but against the bright, polar bear white bookcases full of titles, the dark mahogany table and chairs look stunning. The main room of the house is finally starting to look and feel like the ChemHome. ChemGuy noticed it, too. The Easter dinner party was incredibly fun. The food exceeded the expectations of my guests, but a humorous minor error reminded all of us that I'm a cook, not a chef, and definitely human. Everyone volunteered to come over any time I make too much food. Conversation flowed, as did the wine and chocolate. The 3-year old in attendance was highly entertained by a picture book of birds and a random bag of stuffed animals that I had in the bedroom. (I was so relieved that nothing embarrassing was in that bag; I didn't check before I gave it to her.) Even though I wouldn't tell these people my deepest, darkest secrets, the ability to entertain in my own space on my own terms helps with the feelings of loneliness.
I haven't ridden a bike regularly since high school. The bike I moved here with was a 20-year old 10 speed. A very adult bike, and very up-to-date for the time...but that was 1991. The seat is hardened and uncomfortable, and it is a true road bike, something I am no longer daring enough to ride. I needed something with slightly wider wheels that put me in a slightly less hunched position. I test drove some bikes at our local bike shop without regard to price, other than giving the technician a range, and wound up loving the least expensive of all the models I tried. My tailbone seems healed enough from last year's injuries that I can ride for short distances without severe pain. With some "training" and the advent of warmer weather, the bike means that I hope to be less dependent on the seriously-starting-to-frustrate me bus system in town, allowing me to feel more independent to schedule massage appointments or (soon) go to yoga classes. [I know half of you readers are shouting that if I only had a driver's license I would be really able to go places quickly, but believe me when I say that the thought of tackling that practice and test right now nearly brings me to tears. That response, and its accompanying anxiety, is something that I am trying to remove from so many other parts of my life. I absolutely cannot work on that facet of seeming-independence (to me, it feels more like an added burden and hassle than anything else) until I have cleared out enough anxiety from other areas that I have room to add a bit because of how much I detest driving.]
I'm also starting to let go of the related ideas that a) I should be able to do everything home- and work-related perfectly on my own and b) that a little extra money in the bank is worth more than my time and/or mental health. These are very, very challenging things for me to admit. When participating in discussions on career vs parenthood, I will routinely echo my belief that no one can do it all and do it all as well as they would want all the time. [This is a discussion I would be delighted to have with any of you at almost any time, just not in the commets on this entry, as it is NOT the point.] But subtracting a child from the equation and looking at my situation, I can't imagine how I couldn't have time to do everything for the ChemHouse and the ChemLab that needs to be done. I don't like to pay people to do things for me that I am capable of doing myself; I don't like to double-pay for redundant services. I'm beginning to see that my sanity (and, therefore, my effectiveness at my research work) is tied to spending some of our disposable income for things that have previously seemed excessive. I am also trying to get used to the idea that some of our income is, in fact, disposable.
I know that rediscovering my inner yogi will assist me in my fight to get rid of 7 of the 11 things on my list for 2011. Clearly, yoga is missing in my life and must return, sooner rather than later. The rub? I don't care for the yoga at my gym, and the classes that I think I might enjoy are at times during which I absolutely could not go. But I really delight in the group fitness classes that I attend and am not ready to give them up, both because of the fitness benefits and the personal ones. I don't have "best friends" at the gym, but I have a lot of people that I really love to chit-chat with. The environment is a happy one, and I know that that feeds me and helps fill me up. Single yoga classes are expensive; single day trips to the gym are expensive. The idea of having memberships at two fitness centers triggers shouts of protest from my inner thrifty-pants. I've done the math, and paying for unlimited access to both places while visiting each a couple of times/week is significanly less expensive than remaining a member at one and paying on a per-visit basis at the other as long as I visit both. But paying for unlimited access to both locations is obviously more expensive than paying for unlimited access to one. That's where I bawk. The Universe, however, is telling me that not only is it OK to try out the dual-membership thing, but that I must do it now. My gym membership is paid through November (paying for a year in full gets you 13 months). The yoga studio that I would most likely join just sent me an e-mail saying that their summer special will be offering a 3 month unlimited yoga package at the monthly cost that is usually reserved only for 12 month unlimited buyers. (Most yoga studios offer various lengths of unlimited packages: 1 month, 3 monhts, 6 months, 12 months, lowering the per month price as the term gets longer.) My plan is to attend a few different classes after purchasing a 5 class card, trying out transportation options and teachers, then have time to purchase the 3 month unlimited package for June-August. I didn't want to pay for a 3 month package at the 3-month rate, but committing to 3-months at the 12-month rate is an outlay of money that I think I can handle. I'll be able to re-evaluate the situation at the end of the summer, not making any decisions on my gym membership until a few months later.
I did our taxes for 2010 because I like that with a book and the 1040 instructions I can figure things out, even with the added twist of becoming home owners in 2010. I like knowing our money and being able to make educated decisions on things like withholding. I did our taxes a few different ways, propagating the federal adjustments into the state form, even estimating how the ways I did this year's return would impact our returns for 2011. (To itemize or not itemize, that was the question. 2010: no itemizing. 2011: possibly itemizing.) I know that we are still in a major purchasing phase for home stuff and that within a year or two we'll be able to save more money in longer-term accounts, not just in our emergency fund.
April, for me, was a month of shifting. A month of transition. The fact that I began to really truly move out of my frozen winter during the month in which the Nature that surrounds me does the same was not lost on me. I hope that my progress doesn't retreat back to the cold come October and November. I love the seasons; I missed them in those years in The Valley. I just don't need my life to mirror them quite so precisely every 12 months.
Here is the prompt for those who may have missed the first post:
What are 11 things your life doesn't need in 2011?
How will you go about eliminating them?
How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life?
My list of 11 things.
************************************
All things being equal, the tally sheet for April lies significantly in favor of the side "Things Added to ChemGal's Life" over the "Things Subtracted from ChemGal's Life". But all things aren't equal. In April, a new dining room set was delivered, a new bicycle was purchased, two comfy chairs were ordered, and numerous parts were assembled for our Do-It-Yourself Sprinkler System. Some stress, some sadness, some loneliness, some worry left with these additions. That, I believe, makes the tally sheet more even.
The ChemHouse finished enough of the living room project that we were able to have People over (as in, a real dinner celebration) for the first time since we purchased the house. We rearragned the first floor, repurposing the designed dining room as a sunny reading room and placing the (new!) dining room table in half of the main room. Friends who own a home of nearly the same design really liked our use of the space. I might be biased, but against the bright, polar bear white bookcases full of titles, the dark mahogany table and chairs look stunning. The main room of the house is finally starting to look and feel like the ChemHome. ChemGuy noticed it, too. The Easter dinner party was incredibly fun. The food exceeded the expectations of my guests, but a humorous minor error reminded all of us that I'm a cook, not a chef, and definitely human. Everyone volunteered to come over any time I make too much food. Conversation flowed, as did the wine and chocolate. The 3-year old in attendance was highly entertained by a picture book of birds and a random bag of stuffed animals that I had in the bedroom. (I was so relieved that nothing embarrassing was in that bag; I didn't check before I gave it to her.) Even though I wouldn't tell these people my deepest, darkest secrets, the ability to entertain in my own space on my own terms helps with the feelings of loneliness.
I haven't ridden a bike regularly since high school. The bike I moved here with was a 20-year old 10 speed. A very adult bike, and very up-to-date for the time...but that was 1991. The seat is hardened and uncomfortable, and it is a true road bike, something I am no longer daring enough to ride. I needed something with slightly wider wheels that put me in a slightly less hunched position. I test drove some bikes at our local bike shop without regard to price, other than giving the technician a range, and wound up loving the least expensive of all the models I tried. My tailbone seems healed enough from last year's injuries that I can ride for short distances without severe pain. With some "training" and the advent of warmer weather, the bike means that I hope to be less dependent on the seriously-starting-to-frustrate me bus system in town, allowing me to feel more independent to schedule massage appointments or (soon) go to yoga classes. [I know half of you readers are shouting that if I only had a driver's license I would be really able to go places quickly, but believe me when I say that the thought of tackling that practice and test right now nearly brings me to tears. That response, and its accompanying anxiety, is something that I am trying to remove from so many other parts of my life. I absolutely cannot work on that facet of seeming-independence (to me, it feels more like an added burden and hassle than anything else) until I have cleared out enough anxiety from other areas that I have room to add a bit because of how much I detest driving.]
I'm also starting to let go of the related ideas that a) I should be able to do everything home- and work-related perfectly on my own and b) that a little extra money in the bank is worth more than my time and/or mental health. These are very, very challenging things for me to admit. When participating in discussions on career vs parenthood, I will routinely echo my belief that no one can do it all and do it all as well as they would want all the time. [This is a discussion I would be delighted to have with any of you at almost any time, just not in the commets on this entry, as it is NOT the point.] But subtracting a child from the equation and looking at my situation, I can't imagine how I couldn't have time to do everything for the ChemHouse and the ChemLab that needs to be done. I don't like to pay people to do things for me that I am capable of doing myself; I don't like to double-pay for redundant services. I'm beginning to see that my sanity (and, therefore, my effectiveness at my research work) is tied to spending some of our disposable income for things that have previously seemed excessive. I am also trying to get used to the idea that some of our income is, in fact, disposable.
I know that rediscovering my inner yogi will assist me in my fight to get rid of 7 of the 11 things on my list for 2011. Clearly, yoga is missing in my life and must return, sooner rather than later. The rub? I don't care for the yoga at my gym, and the classes that I think I might enjoy are at times during which I absolutely could not go. But I really delight in the group fitness classes that I attend and am not ready to give them up, both because of the fitness benefits and the personal ones. I don't have "best friends" at the gym, but I have a lot of people that I really love to chit-chat with. The environment is a happy one, and I know that that feeds me and helps fill me up. Single yoga classes are expensive; single day trips to the gym are expensive. The idea of having memberships at two fitness centers triggers shouts of protest from my inner thrifty-pants. I've done the math, and paying for unlimited access to both places while visiting each a couple of times/week is significanly less expensive than remaining a member at one and paying on a per-visit basis at the other as long as I visit both. But paying for unlimited access to both locations is obviously more expensive than paying for unlimited access to one. That's where I bawk. The Universe, however, is telling me that not only is it OK to try out the dual-membership thing, but that I must do it now. My gym membership is paid through November (paying for a year in full gets you 13 months). The yoga studio that I would most likely join just sent me an e-mail saying that their summer special will be offering a 3 month unlimited yoga package at the monthly cost that is usually reserved only for 12 month unlimited buyers. (Most yoga studios offer various lengths of unlimited packages: 1 month, 3 monhts, 6 months, 12 months, lowering the per month price as the term gets longer.) My plan is to attend a few different classes after purchasing a 5 class card, trying out transportation options and teachers, then have time to purchase the 3 month unlimited package for June-August. I didn't want to pay for a 3 month package at the 3-month rate, but committing to 3-months at the 12-month rate is an outlay of money that I think I can handle. I'll be able to re-evaluate the situation at the end of the summer, not making any decisions on my gym membership until a few months later.
I did our taxes for 2010 because I like that with a book and the 1040 instructions I can figure things out, even with the added twist of becoming home owners in 2010. I like knowing our money and being able to make educated decisions on things like withholding. I did our taxes a few different ways, propagating the federal adjustments into the state form, even estimating how the ways I did this year's return would impact our returns for 2011. (To itemize or not itemize, that was the question. 2010: no itemizing. 2011: possibly itemizing.) I know that we are still in a major purchasing phase for home stuff and that within a year or two we'll be able to save more money in longer-term accounts, not just in our emergency fund.
April, for me, was a month of shifting. A month of transition. The fact that I began to really truly move out of my frozen winter during the month in which the Nature that surrounds me does the same was not lost on me. I hope that my progress doesn't retreat back to the cold come October and November. I love the seasons; I missed them in those years in The Valley. I just don't need my life to mirror them quite so precisely every 12 months.