How I travel light

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my mini suitcase (aka roll-away laptop bag)

When I tried packing light I used what a lot of popular minimalists use – a backpack.  Unfortunately, my back was not too happy about it.  Not to mention my height (I’m barely 4’10) and the backpack no matter how light I packed – just weighed me down way too much.

A couple of years ago I bought a roll away laptop bag.  It came with a shoulder bag that can be easily folded up when not in use.  This has been my go to bag whenever I travel.  It is the perfect size for me.  And it’s rather small since it’s designed for a laptop – it keeps me in check so I cannot overpack.  This is ideal for any aspiring minimalist.

 

 

 

 

My Emergency Bag

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My Emergency Bag

This is my emergency bag.  The idea of having an extra bag is probably not so ‘minimalist’.  But having it gives me a sense of security.  These were items that were going to be donated anyway but instead I kept a select few and kept it minimal to what could fit inside the bag.

contents of my emergency bag

What’s inside:

* extra set of clothing for me and my hubby

* first aid kit

* $60 in cash

* a week’s supply of medication for the dogs, Ryan and myself

* dog food and additional medication

* extra set of leashes (in the event of an emergency we can just grab the dogs and the bag and just go)

* radio & flashlight

The reason I have a bag is because this would’ve saved me so much grief and stress for not just emergencies but for any unplanned events like:

* needing extra cash – although $60 isn’t much it sure helped us when we were in a bind and needed cash fast.

* hospital visit – when I was admitted if I had this bag beforehand this would’ve saved my hubby much needed stress from having to collect clothes for me to wear

* dog sitting – when I was admitted in the hospital the dogs needed to stay at my mom’s.  This bag has everything they need to last them 3 days. (food, medication & extra leashes)

*power outages – when we had the blizzard and some rough rainstorms a number of people lost power for days.  This bag would’ve been easy to reach for and grab in the event we needed to get a hotel.

*emergencies- like the hospital admittance, something unplanned like this, your brain is already on high alert.  Having everything ready makes it not only easy but very convenient

 

The 2 Benefits of Decluttering and Donating

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Donations waiting to be picked up

The journey to minimalism is never ending. I’m always paring stuff down and reevaluating my possessions to see if there is anything that can be donated or tossed. The end result is great. I have more space and I am left happy and content knowing that what I have left is exactly what I need.

I just recently went through my home and collected several bags of clothing and household items to donate. Whenever I get a notification in the mail that the Purple Hearts Federation is going to pick up donations, that is my queue to go through my home and start the decluttering process.

Donating items isn’t just a kind gesture to others but more so for myself.

(a) I get a TAX DONATION for my donation

And

(b) I am left with peace of mind because I have MORE SPACE in my home.

And this is why I love to donate.

UNEDITED Part One – revealing my true self

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I just want to warn you that what I am about to share is a deep and dark secret.  This unedited post has to be by far the most graphic and violent post I have ever written.  It is not for the faint of heart.  I feel this deep need to share this secret because I know that I am one of many rape victims out there.  I hope that by sharing my story I can also share the triumphs that I have accomplished and hopefully bring inspiration to other rape victims.  I believe that writing and minimalism is helping me heal this painful wound.  On that note, let the healing begin.

It began almost 20 years ago.  I was on a blind first date that was suggested by my friend Michelle. The young man let’s call him ‘A’. Was charming and respectful he brought me a dozen red roses and pizza for my mom and brother. He scored extra brownie points there.  He was respectful when he met my mom and I knew I had her approval especially since she knew that Michelle would be coming along the date. I knew this was the beginning of a wonderful night.  After we went out, ‘A’ asked if we wanted to check out his new apartment. I had developed a crush on him throughout the course of the night and I excitedly said yes.  Michelle asked that she be dropped off at home (she was living with us at the time).  And I was nervous at first that Michelle was not accompanying us but I felt safe with ‘A’.  He was a gentleman throughout the night and so I felt comfortable to be left along with him. After we dropped off Michelle we headed to his apartment.  It was a cozy one bedroom basement apartment.  He gave me something to drink which I willingly accepted.  I learned that night that I was a complete lightweight with alcohol.  My head was spinning and my face felt as if it were on fire.  One thing lead to another and he wanted something a little bit more from me.  I told him I wasn’t that type of girl and I apologized if I gave him the impression.  But he started out gentle, then prodding, then forceful.  This is when my nightmare began.

We argued and he said I was lying.  That I couldn’t be a virgin dressed the way I was.  And that I led him on by coming alone to his apartment.  I headed for the door and that’s when the violence began.  I tried tirelessly for hours to pull him off me.  I was screaming constantly after hearing that there were people in the apartment upstairs. ‘Someone please call the police.  Please call 911″. My pleas were left unanswered instead he covered my mouth and said that if I were to report this to the police he would go after my mom and brother since he knew were I lived. He said he belonged to a gang and pointed at the bandana with the skull cap logo. I naively believed him.  My body froze.  But I still fought him off despite blacking out between the beatings I still fought.  I thought to myself.  This is not the way I wanted to lose my virginity.  I was taught that it was something to be shared between a husband and wife.  This wasn’t happening to me.  This can’t happen to me.  And I continued to fight with him throughout the night. Until I gave up.  He tried penetrating me but I was ‘too tight’.  He even tried his fingers but this bastard found an alternate solution instead by grabbing a screwdriver and used the handle on me.  I just remember excruciating pain and I must’ve blacked out soon after because I just remembered him on top of me and  waking up and seeing the blood and being in intense pain. He was an animal. That is why I call him ‘A’.  Throughout the night I felt this animal disgrace my body.  My body no longer became my own he defiled it.  A part of me died that night.

(to be continued)

Why I write LESS

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photo: Seth Michael

I was on twitter this morning and a post title caught my eye.  It was aptly titled Write Less by Joel Runyon.  Here’s the link. There are quite a number of blogs that I follow and oftentimes it’s hard for me to keep up quite honestly.  So I really enjoy the short and sweet posts and this post of Joel’s  is super short but it gives me just enough information to digest so I can move on to the rest of my day.  I try to keep the same format on my posts on this blog.

Below is a couple of reasons why I like to write less.


I don’t know about you but I think there is just too much stuff going on.  Because by the time I sit down and read something, guaranteed there are several things that vie for my attention.  I know I must not be alone and so I try to take this into consideration when I write.


I love reading blogs that provide valuable information.   I just eat ‘em right up! I also love reading blogs where I get to know something about the author. To me that personalizes the experience and I love that.


With the increasing number of blogs out there I appreciate the time that you spend here. That’s why I strive to be direct and to the point as much as possible.

So there you have it, this is why I write less.

As they say by saying LESS one speaks volumes.

A gift that keeps on giving – Women for Women.org

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I am a monthly contributor to a organization called Women for Women International. It is a non profit that support and educates women of war torn countries around the world. $27 a month is not a lot for us it breaks down to just less than a dollar a day. For the woman we help with this money it provides a means to an end.

Attached below is a TED talk from founder Zainab Salbi.

Please take a moment to view the video.

I have to say I count my blessings to have been born in this side of the world.

I really am.

Death, Life & The Legacy Of Clutter

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I’m delighted to have my first guest post from Robert Wall the man behind Untitled Minimalism, a blog dedicated to more conscious living through the application of the principles of minimalism, simplicity and frugality

photo: John Lodder

It’s an accepted fact that everybody is going to die.  Maybe not now, maybe not a week from now, maybe not even ten years from now – but it’s coming eventually.

When that happens, the survivors are left to deal with the “estate”.  If you’ve ever been through this, you know that “estate” is a fancy word for “all the junk”.  This includes debts, cash on hand, vehicles, homes, and all sorts of personal stuff.

Debts, cash, vehicles and homes are relatively simple.  Usually all of those items get converted to a cash equivalent, things get settled up, and any leftover money gets split amongst the heirs.

What gets to be sticky (at lightning speed) is the rest of the stuff.

The rest of this post is about my great-grandmother specifically, although I’d bet that it applies to your family too.

AN ESTATE FULL O’STUFF

When my great-grandma passed on, she left a house full of stuff. Some of it was useful to others, some of it wasn’t.  Some of it probably had some value as antiques, but most of it didn’t.  Plenty of it was junk.

We’re going to talk about the junk for a minute.  There’s a misguided notion that many people have – it goes something along the lines of “I can’t throw away Grandma’s stuff!”

Let me let you in on a little secret:

Most of that stuff wasn’t important to Grandma.

Let me clarify.  It was important in the sense of “I need to be able to cook dinner, take a shower, do my hair, and have clothes to wear”.

But in the sense of “If I had to move across the world and I’m being charged by the pound for luggage”, I guarantee you’d be amazed at what proportion of stuff wouldn’t have made the cut.

TREASURE TAKES A TUMBLE(R)

For example, Grandma had a set of tumblers that she’d bought at the thrift store – I remember when she bought them, because she told me about the good deal she’d gotten on them.

According to her, she’d bought them because they had “good, heavy bases”, so they “were hard to tip over”.  The more Grandma talked, the more clear it became – they were a utilitarian tool to accommodate rambunctious great-grandchildren, nothing more.

But to anybody that didn’t know when she got them, you’d think she had them her whole life.  They were old, granted, but they weren’t “treasures” to her.

In fact, I’d wager serious cash that if I’d asked Grandma what to do with those tumblers when she died, she’d say something like “give them to somebody with kids – they’ll thank you!”

She had a number of things that she’d probably have told us to keep (including pictures and a few sentimental trinkets), but the rest? Definitely not “treasure” by her standards.

So we’re left with a very simple question: if these items weren’t “treasures” to Grandma, why are they “treasures” to you?

A (GRAND)MOTHER’S LOVE

Here’s the thing – I know full well that great-grandma loved us great-grandkids, even if we didn’t visit as often as we probably should have. I know that she loved her son and his children (of which my mom was the oldest).

Because I know that, I can make a simple statement:

There’s no way in hell she’d insist on us storing her junk for posterity.  Grandma would never foist that responsibility on us.

She’d ask everybody what they wanted, do her best to give it to them, and then ask us if one of us with a truck could please drive her and her junk to the thrift store!

RE-FRAMING THE ISSUE

If you’ve still got doubts, think of it this way – most of grandma’s stuff wasn’t bought to pass on to you – it was bought to support her life.

At the point you’re digging through the estate, it’s no longer needed for that purpose.  The question becomes, does it support your life?

The answer, almost invariably, is “no”.

I know the tangible stuff is what you have right in front of you, and yes – you do have to sort through it.  But “sort through” and “keep for posterity” are two completely different things!

CREATE A MEMORIAL, NOT A CLUTTER MOUNTAIN

Part of the desire to keep Grandma’s stuff is to preserve memories.  So if that’s your goal, how are you going to do it in a way that honors those memories?

Which honors Grandma’s memory more?  A pile of stuff in a storage unit that never sees the light of day, or a small group of her items that you display proudly in your home?

Or maybe you don’t want anything that takes up significant space.  Pictures and letters fit nicely into an existing photo album, and provides future generations with a link to their past.

Everything else?  In order of preference – sell, donate, or junk it.

But keep in mind that the most valuable thing you’ll inherit from your loved one isn’t a physical item at all.

THE MOST VALUABLE THING

I mentioned before that I knew my great-grandmother relatively well.

It’s been a decade or more since she died, and let me tell you something – I can still see that house in my mind.

I can tell you where she kept the flour in the kitchen.

I remember the funny stare I got when I asked her for her bread recipe.  She didn’t have one, not really – she’d been doing it for 60+ years, and she just knew.

I can see her making bread on the counter, and hear her trying to teach a 12-year-old me (unsuccessfully) about how the process worked.

I can tell you the contents of her refrigerator on an average day, and which items she was always “saving for a special occasion”.

I can see her turning leftover mashed potatoes into what she called “hash browns” (which were more “potato patties” than hash browns).

I remember the decks of cards she had, and how fancy I thought a hard plastic case for a deck of cards was.  I remember her teaching me 500 and Schmere when I was about 5 years old.

I remember discovering a crochet hook and a ball of yarn, and her trying to teach me to crochet – even though she didn’t know how to do anything other than chain-stitch.

I remember her hemming my pants when I was a kid because they were always too long.  I remember the sewing machine, the lock on the case, and the incredibly non-ergonomic foot pedal.

I even remember using that same sewing machine later on in life, just playing around with some scrap fabric.

I can tell you how her guest room was set up, and how her room was organized.

I knew where she kept the bottle of holy water for when the priest visited on alternate Sundays, because she couldn’t drive to church.  And I remember what the bottle looked like, because I got it for her sometimes when I was a little kid.

I remember the attic and the musty smell, as well as her being constantly concerned when I went up there due to long nails from a too-cheap roofing job poking through into the low ceiling.

I can envision many of her pots and pans, and I can still see the little tin measuring cup she used for everything.

I can see the free-standing bathtub in my mind, and I remember the weird feeling of the suction-cup bath mat she had in it.

I can almost taste the rhubarb sauce she used to make.

I remember the feel of the sofa, and trying to stay warm under a crocheted afghan in her living room.

I can see her going through her morning and evening routines (complete with those old-school sponge rollers and the hair net).

I remember the old TV we used to watch together.

I remember watching as she fed her “pet” squirrel, that lived in a tree in her front yard.  It would actually come onto the porch when called, looking for food.

I don’t need her stuff – I’ve got her, in my memories.  And that’s the most valuable thing of all.

SOMETHING TO DWELL UPON

Just like hoarding our own stuff won’t bring us security or solve our emotional issues, hoarding Grandma’s old stuff won’t bring you closer to Grandma.

The stuff is an empty shell; Grandma isn’t there.  The only memories the stuff has for you are the ones you bring to it.

So do whatever you can to bring some memories to it!

Seize the opportunity to connect with these people while they’re still with you.  Talk to them, learn from them, get to know them, and develop memories and experiences with them.

The memories, experiences, and knowledge that you’ll gain are worth far more than all of their stuff combined.

IN MEMORIAM – MARBELLE AUSMAN 11/21/2000

I made bread again the other day.  I’ve finally gotten the hang of it now, about twenty-two years after she tried to teach the 12-year-old, incredibly impatient version of me.

More importantly, I’ve been chasing the flavor of Grandma’s bread for a decade or more.  You know what?  I think I’ve finally got it.  And yes, it tastes much better than the “boughten” bread from the store! (‘boughten’ was a Grandma word)

Wherever Grandma is right now, I like to think she’d be proud.  Thanks for the memories Grandma!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  Robert Wall creator of the site Untitled Minimalism, which is dedicated to more conscious living through the application of the principles of minimalism, simplicity and frugality

Turning my back on a $80,000+ job

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photo: kushiplus

I just turned down the opportunity of a lifetime.  The position was for an IT consultant with a top notch client in downtown Chicago.  The pay equated to 80k+ a year.  I passed the initial interview with flying colors.  The recruiter said I made such a positive impression on the client that 5 minutes after my interview they wanted me to come in and meet the rest of the team including two of the Vice Presidents I would be working with.

I knew in my heart that I was going to land the gig.  I had the education and the experience to back it up.

At the end of that day I felt ecstatic.  I felt great that the interview went well.  But most of all, I was excited that I was landing a job as a consultant.  I’ve been wanting to get my foot in the door.  And this job was that opportunity.

But as the interview date was fast approaching, I couldn’t stop being overcome with stress and pressure.  I was familiar with the emotional toll a job like this could take on me. This was when I began to have my doubts.  The stress of being an IT consultant now made me nauseous.  I knew then I had to listen to my heart (and my gut) and step away from this opportunity.

I turned down an $80,000  job and I was happy.

If it wasn’t for our minimalist lifestyle I would not have had the freedom to say no to a lucrative paying job.

It’s what we didn’t have that gave me the freedom to say no:

  • we don’t have credit card debt
  • we don’t have a car note – we own one car that is fully paid off that my husband uses for work
  • we don’t live a lavish lifestyle

Most importantly we have the security of  8 months worth of expenses saved up that will sustain us until I find the job that feels right to me.

My sanity was far more worth $80,000

Because my husband and I live a simple lifestyle, we have the freedom to control our destiny.  I know that there are many people out there that must think I am insane for saying no to this job.  But I don’t have the credit card debt, car note payment or lavish lifestyle.  I have a sufficient rainy day fund to sustain me until I find the right opportunity.  Having the freedom of choice is very liberating to me.

I know others out there that have taken the plunge and turned their back on their jobs to pursue their passion.  Nina Yau of Castles in the Air and Joshua Millburn of The Minimalists are two writers that I admire for doing that.

There’s also Karol Gajda of Ridiculously Extraordinary that has sustained his lifestyle by being self employed since he was 19.

That is why I believe and love the minimalist lifestyle.  You have freedom and the power to do what you want, when you want it. It’s basically living life according to your will.  (or God’s will if you are Catholic/Christian).

This is what attracts me to living minimally.

It’s all about the FREEDOM!

I am living it and loving it!

 

Hate Cleaning? Outsource it!

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photo: alex pears

I love a clean and organized space. But I absolutely hate cleaning. For me, when I am surrounded by clutter and an unclean space it really affects my mood. I have no energy, I get short tempered and I end up not being productive at all.
It doesn’t help when I live with two other people in the house as well. So it’s not just my mess, but the mess of two other people. Let’s not forget my children (a.k.a the doggies) and the mess they create. And before you know it, I’m just one big emotional wreck surrounded by messiness.
Some people resort to ‘retail therapy’ when they get into a rut. I resort to ‘cleaning therapy’. This therapy comes in the form of a cleaning service that comes once a month to clean my home. And I have to say it is worth every single penny.
I love the smell of a clean space. You can see it on my face and tell by the sound of my voice I become more at ease and energetic.
If I could afford it, I’d have them come everyday. But having them come once a month is manageable financially. To know that someone is coming in to clean, just makes me feel so good.
Having a cleaning service come in is a treat to myself and for those around me. Because as they say “when mommy is not happy, NOBODY is happy”.