Wassup, Alaska?

It was the first day of Spring on Tuesday, and I celebrated by spending a few hours shoveling the hardpacked, grainy snow away from our 4' fence line to keep the dogs from daintly stepping over the remaining 4 inches of chainlink visible to us. Riley, the worst offender,  was less than impressed by my efforts.

Temperatures have been below Zero at night, but rising to a glorious 32 or so with brilliant sunshine during the day. I'll take that as a message from Mother Nature that she's at least thinking about releasing us from our wintertime bondage.

Alaska is like that, some years. I think it's a reminder of just how far north we live, and why we choose to stay.

We're lucky, that's what.

Dining Desk

I have been blog-absent for a few days due to a valiant search for my dining room table. Given the nature of the Alaskan Split-Level Domicile, there is little, if any, room anywhere in this house for a real office (or dumping ground) for mail, school permission slips, and the myriad of articles Yukon clips out of the newspaper to send to "someone somewhere". The downstairs computer desk has been appropriated by yours truly, so up to the convenient dining room table goes the paper gunk.

Yukon and I hosted a dinner party on Saturday for some friends who recently were married; people who I am sure can find their dining room table. Both of us looked at the pile, now encroaching towards the end of the table we actually use for eating, and agreed (amazing) to start cleaning it off.

You might be thinking that this is not so special, but do you know where your dining room table is? Better still, do you actually eat at it? We are proponents of the "family table", eating dinner every night together. I grew up with this phenomenon, so it is important to me and the sanctity of the small amount of family time we can pull out of an afternoon/evening of the day's busyness. The addition of piles and files did nothing for my sense of family togetherness.

So the table is clean and shiny, the tulips from Costco are ever so bright and cheerful, and we find ourselves stopping and staring at the wonder of it all. Check back next week to see if the pristine view prevails...

I Clean, Therefore I Feel Better

Yes, to appease the obsessive compulsive side of my personality (and I wonder where Wolf gets it), when life gets a little bit stressful...I clean. And interestingly enough, I clean related to whomever or whatever is at the root of said stress.

So, no surprise, I am doing a gutting of Wolf's room. Why, some may ask, am I not asking the youth to do this task himself? I do, weekly, and he does the best job he can. As part of an "executive function" exercise, to strengthen his "big picture" skills, we work on his room-cleaning. But not in the traditional way of the parent: "Go Clean Your Room!"

Breaking the task down into different segments, I ask Wolf to do one task at a time as part of the overall goal of a semi-tidy space. First clothes, as they seem to be the first thing I stumble over and walk upon when I go into the room. Next, papers, because Wolf is a collector of labels, stamps, envelopes, and catalogs that accumulate dust like black pants to a white cat.

"Cleaning" his room by himself usually takes a full week, so, once a month I go in with my shopvac and take over. Banana peels, candy wrappers, sticky cough drop remnants, and a few Sharpies and other contraband fill my garbage bag. I find the notices for grade reports and PTO meetings in the wastebasket, and rubber bands that were pilfered from my private stash, kept in my possession to prevent any random targeting.

In a way, my monthly purging of the room are for purging the frustration and rough days of the past weeks as well. Wolf's days, and thus ours, are peaks and valleys; having a place to start again makes sense.

Today is cold, windy, and possibly snowy. A good day to tidy up. A good day to reflect and look forward.

While the Husband is Away, the Wife Will Clean

Yukon has departed the frozen North for gray and rainy Portland for four days of meetings. I have departed to my downstairs family room for four days of sorting, stacking, purging and trashing more of the "stuff" that seems to accumulate overnight.
A pack rat of the highest esteem, Yukon has collections of paper-type items that date back to his college years. It is my duty as a member of the obsessive-compulsive-cleaner-club to get rid of much of it. Among items of note; a Star Trek Star Fleet Manual (which I actually saved, you never know who might want that some day) and a 1984 "Oregon Women" calendar from his days at U of O. I might keep that too, come to think of it, to remind me that the 80's were a decisively horrid fashion decade.
I am experiencing a certain degree of glee in poking through papers that can safely be thrown out or burned in the wood stove with no fear of Yukon ever discovering I did it. Why? Perhaps the layer of dust covering everything was a clue.
With no kids in the house this morning, Bear having begun pre-school and Wolf back at his institution of higher learning, it is nirvana of organization. Hopefully all telltale signs will be removed before Yukon's return, then I'll wait and see if he even notices....

or I'll put the calendar on his pillow and watch his reaction.