In a rut, still digging

Ugh.

So, we were having a convo on one of my bulletin boards about what someone called 'invisible people'. You know, waitresses, cashiers, baggers, etc; folks people tend to ignore.

Fast forward to this morning.

I was doing the morning washing up and, as I sometimes do, dwelling on the fact that I wash the same dishes over and over. Same plates, same glasses, same bowls; sometimes three times a day. Over and over.

And the same clothes. And I sweep the same floors, twice a day; let the dogs out; leave at promptly 12:45 to wait for Boy to get out of school; snacks at the same time; supper at the same time; watch a few minutes of a film; go to bed. Rinse and repeat.

I realised that I feel like one of those invisible people; like a photocopy of a photocopy, blurred and indistinct. I spend all day doing things that anyone could do, contributing nothing unique or valuable, making absolutely no difference in the world.

Heck, aliens could abduct me and replace me with a similar unit and no one would be affected. Are there no pictures of me because I really don't exist?

All the mommy websites, books, and magazines say "take time out to do something for yourself".

Yeah? What? And when?

I used to have a dozen projects going. I haven't gotten to work on an outside project in 6 months; or an inside project in a year (heck, I've got a burgeoning list of basic repairs that desperately need doing). I haven't been to the stock sale in months.

I used to do all sorts of crafts as well as draw and paint. I used to write. All of that's out the window. The crafts require a place to set it up and leave it out safely. And I can't do anything of that sort without uninterrupted quiet anyway or I lose my concentration and it's the opposite of relaxing.

I used to love gardening. I had a wee little garden (in the English sense - mixed flowers, trees, shrubs, and veg) that was just mine but the babies took it over. It's now strewn with plastic toys and beat up here and there.

Still, I stubbornly worked at my garden for a bit. I kept it as tidy as possible and kept replanting. This winter pretty much did it in, though, as the only thing I got time to plant - collards - suffered. I had six gorgeous plants and the gate got left open and the pony ate all of them but one (and smashed my pots and dragged stuff about).

Ditto with my books and collectible junque and furniture. Not that the pony got in and ate them, lol, but that they've been smashed, ripped, scratched, and lost.

I know one is not defined by stuff, but it gives one a sense of accomplishment, of worth, to be able to say "I made that", "I grew that", or "That is my meticulously researched and accumulated antique beer bottle cap collection". If I were to fall over dead right here on my Wacom Tablet, I doubt anyone would say: "Man, she sure got a lot of firewood in and stacked neatly!" or "Jeez, I can see myself in these plates!"

Would anyone even realise I'd croaked until they ran out of clean socks?

Anyway, so this morning, after I washed those same. dishes. again. I went out to get something out of the car and discovered ... the gate standing open and the pony in my garden.

Is it stupid to cry over a collard plant?

Flame on!

Just popping in to say "Hi!" *waves* and toss out a cool new thrifty tip.

I have been working v. hard on a new webpage for Moms (yes, yes, I know that the 'net is inundated with mommy sites ... hopefully mine will be slightly different.)

Anyway, the going has been slow and between it and my stores and my babes, I've been swamped!

On to the thrifty tip:

For those of you who heat with wood (or just like a fireplace) and are of a frugal bent, this is a great recycler. Stuff all that dryer lint into empty toilet paper tubes and use them as firestarters!

I went one better and - after finding the motherlode of candles in the dump (big, pillar candles! Do you know how expensive those are?!) - I trimmed the excess wax off, warmed it in a leftover pie tin, and stood my stuffed TP tubes up in the melted wax. The lint and cardboard absorbed the wax and, when cooled, they made FAB firestarters.

Next time I do a batch, I will take pics.

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PS: disclaimer: be bloody careful heating wax and mucking about with the tubes and the lint. They're called firestarters for a reason - they're inflammable, they burn!

PPS: any of you tried and true lovely people who have stayed with me (especially if any of you have marketable products) who want some traffic, need some linky love, etc and would like me to include the links to your blog, store, website, whatever, please email me and I'll happily include you on the new site.

PPPS: assuming I get it done in any of our lifetimes. *sigh*

So that's why they call 'em MINIvans

Well the era of the HMS Behemoth is over.



My full sized Dodge Ram Van up and died on me over the holidays - the transmission went out on xmas day.



I figure the cost of getting a new one (plus the labour involved, since I'd be getting it out of a junked van) and having it installed outweighs the actual value of the van. *sad face*



So the holidays, which are stressful enough, involved also The Dance Of Switching Cars.



I hauled my old Mercury Villager minivan out of the woods, tinkered with it, checked the fluids, refilled the flat tyres, switched the tags and insurance to it from the Dodge, and am driving it with my fingers crossed.



Blimey, but now I know why they call them minians ...



See, I'd never driven a fullsized van prior to owning the Merc. It was like driving a car.



Then I got the Dodge. It was like driving a house.



Seriously.



The entire family fit in it easily; you actually had to climb up in it and walk back to the back to get the kids in their carseats. If you wanted to turn on the heat or play a CD, you had to hold the wheel with one hand and lean way over just to reach.



Windscreen fogged up? Too bad. I actually had to pull over, unbuckle my seatbelt and stand up to clean the glass.



It would hold all of us, two weeks worth of groceries, AND 7 bags (350lbs) of feed. And everyone could still get in and out.



Needless to say, my next family vehicle will either be another full-sized van or a Suburban.



I want one of these:





Kelly blue books lists the price of a 1991 Suburban in good condition with 100k miles at about $2500.



*sigh*

Below: EGH's nigh indestructible Toyota Camry, the outgoing Dodge, the incoming Merc.