The A-Team

The older I get, the simpler I get - and if anyone makes any jokes, they're out of the will while I'm still of sound mind. I blame the A-Team, but more about them in a minute. 

Silas treating the $29 bedspread much nicer than my

heirloom quilt - the little schnook. 

I've always gravitated toward the simple and the quaint but I'm finding that aging and animals have boosted that tendency big time. However, I refuse to allow beasts to completely ruin the House and Garden lifestyle to which I plan to become accustomed. Still, animals can get you simplified REAL fast if that's already your bent. 

Living with the kids and me are Hope, our dog, Kitt, our cat, and Silas, our kitten. Before the fur-clad A-Team (Animal Team) came along, I bought expensive bedspreads. I gave up on that yesterday and picked out a sweet little reversible quilt at a local discount store for $29, and a chair cushion for about five bucks. 

This chair is now squirreled

away in a corner of my

bedroom. Correction: This 
chair now helps make up a
charming little reading nook 
in my bedroom.

Oddly, it seems that cat fights and dog dances atop the bed slowed to a trickle with the new spread. Apparently, the cheaper my decor, the less desire the team feels to mess it up. Maybe they value the simpler things in life too.

I also moved two of my favorite chairs (purchased before Silas' arrival) into my bedroom because he was more likely to wreck them in the living room. 

But on the bright side, I hardly ever had comfortable chairs or a reading nook in the bedroom before, and now I have two - two chairs and two nooks. One single person can never have too many reading nooks in one small bedroom. Sad to say, however, I prefer to read in bed. 

And this is my reading

nook for sunny days when

no lamp is required. 

But the A-Team isn't only Hope, Kitt and Silas. Inspired by a book I bought, All You Can Eat in Three Square Feet, I put in a garden last spring. It became a food bank for every chipmunk, rabbit, squirrel and bird within a five mile radius. Now I have to make another plan - maybe with more container gardening and mesh next year. 

But again, looking on the bright side, outwitting the local fauna helps keep me sharp much as it did for Elmer Fudd. The entire yield of this year's harvest: three tiny radishes, enough lettuce for one small salad, and eight jalapeno peppers. 

But that's okay. I have plenty of dog and cat food, and that's what really matters. 

Four Chairs and a Chat

I've been experiencing too much of the bad stress lately. You know how there's good and bad stress? Good stress is things like studying for the bar exam and wondering how you'll spend the six-figure income you'd be earning if you pass. Bad stress is the kind you get when your dog tries to retrieve her frisbee from your neighbors' roof using a ladder she stole from their garage and then falls through the roof.  

My backyard, with one chair for me, one for my relaxed self,
one for my stressed self - and one for my dog.
Image: Teece Aronin.

And yes, I know I said dog and not something more believable like kid, but if you know my dog, you know it's more believable that she'd do something like that before my kids would. 

Yesterday I took someone's advice, got up early and sat in the backyard with my morning coffee. I decided that I would strive for an enhanced sense of mindfulness. 

I have four retro-style metal chairs in the backyard and a little metal table. I had wanted chairs like those for years because they remind me of my childhood, but I've barely sat in them twice. Why? Because I've been too busy with the things that stress me out. 

So yesterday I made a cup of coffee, snatched a peach from the fruit bowl and walked with my dog into the back yard. I put the coffee and the peach on the table and sat, eyeing them warily as if they might explode. 

I had planned to leave my phone in the house, but couldn't bring myself to do it. I might get an idea for a column and want to make some notes, I told myself. That was partly true, but the other part was that I couldn't imagine myself just sitting in my chair with nothing to focus on but coffee and a peach - but I had underestimated their power. 

I inhaled the coffee. The aroma and the steam made their way to my nose and immediately helped me unwind. Then I took a sip of the coffee. It was delicious. And when I bit into the peach all I could think of was the Shel Silverstein poem about the farmer who grew a gold and bejeweled garden, but dreamed of "one real peach."

Sitting back in the chair, I wasn't fully relaxed, but felt better than expected. I'd say I was about half relaxed and half stressed-out. I started hearing things. 

"What are those sounds?" my stressed self asked. 

"Those are birds," explained my relaxed self.

"But the sounds they make . . . " said stressed self, a little afraid.

"That's called birdsong," explained relaxed self. "It's okay; it's just the birds calling to each other. It can't hurt you."

"And what is that feeling on my face?" asked stressed self.

"That's the breeze," replied relaxed self. "You loved it as a kid. Remember?" 

"Oh, yes, vaguely," murmured stressed self. 

Then stressed self's eyes darted toward the family dog leaping and playing near the garden.  

"Oh, no - that thing," cried stressed self, pointing. "Look how close it is to the tomatoes!"

"She's a good 20 feet from the tomatoes," cooed relaxed self. "And she's enjoying herself. Here, let's call her over."

The dog came running at the sound of her name.

"Aw, Hope," sighed relaxed self, "I love you so much. Go on," relaxed self said to stressed self, "pet her. See? Just like I am."

So, stressed self petted the dog, and felt calmer. 

By the time I came back in the house, I was a new woman, and an optimistic, energetic tone was set for the rest of the day. I spent good, solid time with my kids, time during which I wasn't distracted by the things that stress me, and later in the day I made a pizza with peppers and herbs I picked from pots on my own front porch. I even baked chocolate chip cookies. They were store-bought and came from a freezer case, but they tasted just as good and looked just as homey on the plate. Just as important, they pleased the kids as much as any mess I might have mixed up in a bowl.

I tried the backyard thing again today and loved it all over again. 

I wonder what tomorrow will bring, the first time I try it on a workday.  And I wonder how I'll compensate once winter comes. 

Maybe I can bring the table and chairs inside and set them next to a picture of themselves from this summer. 

Or maybe not.