Last Saturday Ben suggested we finally try out the Hike and Bike trail on the segment of Buffalo Bayou that borders our neighborhood. Leila and I were wildly underdressed for the strong winds, and she slipped in some mud early on the walk. It seemed like a bust between the two of us wining about our discomforts, but we pressed onward and were rewarded with one of the most beautiful days we’ll probably have all year.
I love the Persian New Year celebration. More than the extra money in our pockets and an excuse to buy a new dress, I absolutely adore that it begins the very second spring starts. For me, January is simply too dreary to even contemplate positive change. Lush, sunny, magnificent spring however, makes me want to burst into the very best person possible. The vision is breathtaking.
A better version of myself that actually delights in domesticity scrubs our house to a sparkle using homemade cleaners. Afterwards, I tuck away to the sewing machine to finish making a little sundress in which to prance around our well-tended lawn, plucking ripe tomatoes from the garden I cultivated into a wondrous cornucopia of edible delights. I jam and can and make mouthwatering pies. We dine al fresco in a yard adorned with candlelight and sans mosquitoes. All the while capturing the glory in vivid images that bring photographers to their knees in wonder.
Though my dream lacks an essential foundation in reality, not the least of which is the owning and knowledge to operate a sewing machine, there are aspects of this enhanced self I aspire to integrate into my real life. I am pretty sure the authentic Persian New Year’s celebration does not include the creation of resolutions to be discarded within a month. Therefore, I do not plan on abandoning these goals.
1. Make at least one batch of basic cleaner (and use it, at least once)
2. Attempt this little sundress number. It’s practically not sewing.
3. Make two new garden beds.
4. Jam and can at least one jar of something grown in our garden or purchased dirt-cheap from the farmer’s market.
5. Eat dinner outside at least once a month.
6. Attempt some type of craft creation once a month.
7. Read four really good books by Christmas. Not that anything less is really worth it.
Of course I’ll blog bragging enlightened posts about my successes.
I would like to take a moment to congratulate myself for doing some things that most definitely should have already been done. Is such a self-congratulatory post utterly narcissistic? Yes it is. However, this is a blog in which I am the sole contributor and editor, so despite my best interest I suppose self-absorbed banter has always been the norm. Without further ado, let me share some accomplishments of sorts.
- It took us two whole weeks to fill one whole kitchen trash bag. I wanted to cut our trash consumption from the usual almost bag a week to one a month. Looks like we managed to get closer to that previously unspoken goal in spite of ourselves.
- Instead of wasting a paper towel or napkin/two every day at lunch, I have packed along my own cloth napkin. Moreover, my lunch napkins were actually repurposed from an old high school skirt by yours truly. This means that my lunches are now officially 100% zero waste.
- I made a dinner using most of our collard plant that even Ben found delicious, though I should note that it also included an unholy amount of meat. But let’s focus on the positive – Ben ate and enjoyed collards!
- In the past week I have done yoga five times, four of which were credited to the monthly unlimited pass the generous owners of “my” yoga studio graciously sold for a mere $25.
- Our yard looks like people actually inhabit the house. We paid people to make it look this way, but it was an investment in a local business (win, win).
- I took a moment to finally remove the labeling from the jars I keep stowing away. Out of the landfill, helping with food storage and looking decent to boot.
There is so much that is not getting done, but I want to take a moment to bask in these victories, small as they are