Surly Girlie

Writing to figure things out and just because she likes it

Archive for the month “June, 2011”

Color Me Organized

I have been “tripping the light blogosphere” as of late and stumbled upon a great organizing website called Chez Larrson.  Here is the link to the site:

http://chezlarsson.com/myblog/2008/08/organizing-book.html

One of the tips that I LOVE is to organize by color.

I love this little jar full of red pens. Does that make me crazy? Don't answer!     

 

 

Don’t these red pens look ooo-la-la cute in this little jar that I got  from goodness-knows-where?

 

 

 

 

Or what about these green pens in this green tomato pickles jar?

 Or how about this old Planter’s peanuts container that I covered with illustrations from a vintage literature textbook?

   

 

  (Notice that the pens and pencils are all      in the orange/yellow family.)

 

 

 

 All of these crafty creations belong to the bookcase that sits by my kitchen table. There is this little nook therein, which is my favorite, because it has a few sentimental objects:

  • a photo of my great-grandparents, grandpa and mom
  • the knobby, broken-off gingerbread from my Grampy’s old bookcase
  • a small pineapple paperweight that was a present from my Southern-gentleman friend, R.J.

  • a blue plant holder that belonged to my Grandma Ruth painted with a Currier and Ives winter scene
  • two vintage books: The Bobbsey Twins and Alice in Wonderland

AND

  • fairy dust from my mom (which I am saving for either our (eventual) Fairy Party or for a Hayden/Riley emergency!)

And who is with me while I delve into this miniscule, borderline OCD world of not only organizing but photographing my organization?

Andy Cohen on the DVR:

Snobawl behind the curtain:

And Jax on the couch!

FYI: I know it is obnoxiously luxurious of me to have time to do such tedious, yet entertaining tasks, so don’t hate me, okay? Please. I could be sooooooo much worse! Right? Right? Aw come on! 🙂

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Lawn Care

 

  I love walking around  the neighborhood

at evening time,

  and watching the way

 middle-aged men

   with lit cigarettes in their mouths

  work on their yards,

 unaware of their wives right behind them

 about to spray them with the hose…

 

 And the way the two older ladies, with their fluffy dogs, stop talking when we walk by

(as if their secrets are worth keeping)…

          

And the weiner dogs:

             who, I learned today are named Spike & Winny

with the hippy owners

      who meticulously planted

  one lonely azalea

      in the corner of their lot…

                  

And the black guy,

  with his black lab,

       and his hip-hop shorts

    down

      to

        t

        h

        e

         r

         e

      And I make sure I say hi,

             just so he knows,

          I’m not one of those white people…

                                                                                                  *

 “That sounds like a poem,” my husband says to me from the closet,

(when I tell him this after walking the dog one June night).

“It is a poem,” I say.

“By who?”he says.

“By me,” I say.

“Then it must be good, ” he says…

                                                                     And because I am a fool

                                                                                    (for him)

                                                                          and for this world,

                                                                            I write it down.

                                                                                     

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