So along with musing about living in a smaller house, I think off all the things my grandma did that I don’t.

She kept a clean house. (A little fanatically, yes, but my memories of it are okay now. Twitch. Twitch.)

She kept to a schedule. (Which had a lot to do with my Grandpa being diabetic and needing that schedule.)

She cooked meals. (See above. But we also had hamburgers at least 3 times a week. Grandpa was a little short on teeth that met top and bottom.)

She walked for exercise. (She had polio on her 9th birthday and one foot smaller than the other and one leg that was weaker than the other. She never wanted to gain weight, it would have been difficult for her body to cope with.)

She kept to a diet. (This one isn’t so much complimentary, actually. She really had an eating disorder and starved herself most of the time. She was far too rigid about it. Even in the last two years she was alive, dementia eating her brain to mush – she wouldn’t drink the Ensure because it had too much fat in it. Yeah. I’m good with the quarter tray of brownies and synthetic cream laden coffee I’m having for breakfast.)

She kept a garden. (More and more, I’m thinking this is a skill that I need to have. We tried one year and everything died.)

She canned and preserved what was in her garden and kept it in the deep freeze all winter for food. (Only cans in my house are tomato sauce.)

She sewed. (Now, to be fair, I *could* sew if pressed, but I’m wondering if it’s not time for me to improve that.)

She crocheted. (But I knit, so we’re really pretty even on that. However, I do wonder if I should start focusing on practical stuff for the fam. We’ll see.)

She went to church. She raised her kids in the church. (I’m thinkin’ maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take Alex more than once a year.)

She was active in groups, she got out and did stuff in her tiny community. (I’m on my couch at 1029am. In my robe. Alex is in his jammies. From yesterday. Yesterday night. We really should get out more. But today the weather sucks ass so I’m gonna take a pass on that.)

She worked through the day and did her leisure at night after dinner was cleaned up and the dishwasher started. (I’m already spent too much time on Facebook.)

Now. I’m not putting pressure on myself to be someone I’m not. I’m just starting to ponder that I need to ponder being more self reliant. Cultivate some skills to be more personally responsible for my care and my fam’s care.

I can only really take care of me and mine. So shouldn’t I work on doing that better than I am? If I see something I can improve – shouldn’t I do that?

I have a not at all secret mental image of being an alpaca farmer. So clearly I’m all about the pink and white polka dotted Alpaca Farm Girl.

As our HOA won’t even let us build a detached shed in our backyard to keep tools and a lawnmower in, I am positive they would frown on a pair of pacas out back.

So until we move to the sticks and start growing my future skeins of yarn, I’ll have to content myself with knitting what others have grown.

I’ve purchased the most organic alpaca yarn from Larkspur Funny Farm. (forgive the double link, I’m trying to play with SEO.)

Grace says

Since 1996, I have devoted my life to organically and humanely raising a variety of exotic fiber producing animals. I have also cultivated an extensive network of other like minded, caring breeders which provide fiber for the ever growing customer base here at the farm store and now on Etsy.

It’s true, each order I place she says thank you for helping her sustain her way of life and helping to care for animals who would otherwise not have homes.

My absolute favorite yarn I’ve purchased from her is the Baby Alpaca Mountain Fog

One of my very favorite hats I knitted was from her fine spun hand dyed yarn

And while it’s not alpaca – I am having a serious jones for this organic merino yarn

You can check what I’ve already knit by clicking through the Comfed Out Kaiser butter …. um… button in the right sidebar, under the header. You can also find me on Ravelry as kaiseralex.

Oh hai.
Mommentator told me I needed to post. And she’s right.

I have all these big thoughts in my head about simplicity and living with less and living life more like my grandparents but with Kate Spade and a jacuzzi tub.

I’m trying to clean my damn house. Trying to organize 2400 square feet. Because SERIOUSLY that’s 800 feet per person in this house. If I count the cats (which I might as well, they take up as much space in my bed as I do) then it’s still 480 square feet each and I should be feeling like I’m spinning on a mountaintop like I’m fucking Maria vonTrapp, not like I’m starring in Sanford and Son.

I’m obsessed with Tumbleweed Homes look how cute this house is

More Tumbleweed photos

Their LARGEST home is less than 900 square feet. I’m obsessed. Don’t tell hubs. I’m sure he would be unimpressed. Maybe if we had a shop for him the same size as the house …

For now, I’m off to pick up the dining room and do some dishes.

Alex and I were in Seattle last week so I could spend time with my Victoria and my Leslie. I pulled us from our usual routine of living room sitting and tv watching while creating messes in the kitchen and pulled us cross country to spend a week with people I’ve actually only met … twice.

But the power of the blog. The twitter. The skype. The text message. The 704.

I know these women. Hell we have synched menstrual cycles from cross 3 time zones. They’ve seen me go to hell and they’ve dragged me back. They fun me up, I make sure they have booze.

Alex needs some funning up too. He’s far too serious for a little guy. It’s genetic.

Our boys luff each other just as their moms luff each other. Little Man, Buddy and the Kaiser chased, fought, tussled like puppies, shared food, watch Thomas (and watched Thomas and watch Thomas some more.)

Buddy is going through a “mine mine” stage – but we all knew how he felt as we packed up LM and Alex on Wednesday night and Buddy pointed at them and them patted his heart saying “mine mine!”

The next morning, I was reading an ACTUAL book (okay fine, it was a book with a collection of blog posts, whatever, it was bound and had a spine. Book.) Victoria and LM were dancing and then Alex started moving his arms… he shook, and he smiled, and he giggled.

My boy danced. My friends not only bring me joy, they bring my boy joy.

And when we got back to our home, when I was tired, and Alex was cranky, I turned up the music, and we danced.

Some joy you really CAN take with you. No matter how far you are.