A little bit less...

We're taking some baby steps to simplify our lives, get out of debt and explore what minimalism means in our little corner of the world.

We just downgraded our cable package to local stations only and will be saving about $600 a year.  Interestingly enough, the new bundle upgraded our internet and I feel very guilty about that don't feel guilty about that at all.  Here's to less passive watching and more active reading, talking, laughing, learning, and creating.

Next on the chopping block: satellite radio.  Farewell, 80's station... I'll miss you (but I'll be happier with that extra $205 bucks a year in my pocket.)

A Revolution of Less

I must confess that every once in a while, I wish my house would burn down and I could start completely over.  It's a pretty frequent fantasy that I have: everyone I love makes it out safely, all of our important documents like birth certificates and passports are grabbed in the nick of time, and the pictures we treasure are, of course, safe and sound in a fireproof storage container.  

I don't lay in bed at night dreaming of a shirtless man that looks remarkably like George Clooney falling in love with me and telling me how interesting and beautiful I am... I fantasize about house fires.  I think that's probably a not-so-subconscious hint that I have too much stuff.  

We live in a 3,200 square foot house and have every square foot of it tastefully decorated.  Our garage is full of stuff to help maintain the inside and outside of our tastefully decorated house.  The garage does have a car in it- a project car that was supposed to be a fun hobby for The Pastor and our kids to bond over- but we've never had the time or the money to work on it.  There is stuff sitting on every horizontal surface of the project car: parts and tools and a picture that hung in my office and a box of microwave popcorn from Sam's Club and our youngest's yard shoes and the basketball that our oldest used to shoot hoops at the park with six years ago.  

Behind our house is more stuff.  Way back past the lawn close to the alley there's actually a commercial pizza oven that my father in law got for a steal.  There's a trailer for hauling stuff, an old lawnmower with no engine, and more parked cars that don't run that belong to other family members.  Lucky us, we've been the people throughout our extended family who have stayed put the longest and have the "extra" space to store things for everyone.  Yay.  I try not to look out there because all of that junk makes me anxious and embarrassed at the same time.  At least you can't see it from the street.   

I'm not a pack rat and I don't really consider myself unnecessarily sentimental, but man, along with 25 years of marriage and two kids comes a crap load of stuff.  Some of it is stuff that literally hasn't moved or changed in the 17 years that we have called this place home because it fit that little corner shelf so perfectly; I just dust it once a month and try to go back to ignoring it.  

But it's all starting to bother me; I have been discontent for some time now.  It's funny, though.  I'm not discontent for more... I'm discontent for less, if that makes any sense.  Luckily, or by divine providence I stumbled across the blog called theminimalists.com and it spoke to me.  I bought their book (pictured above) and read it voraciously, underlining and highlighting and making furious notes along the page edges; it spoke to me too.  

Minimalism isn't a religious movement, but I feel that for me, it would only enhance my relationship with Christ and with those around me by freeing up the time I spend maintaining all of our stuff and the room it takes up in my subconscious- and giving me the time and space to focus on the things in my life that are not stuff-related.  Things of the heart and soul and mind.  Otherworldly stuff, which is a lot more meaningful in the long run.  

I'm going to start making some small changes that I hope will snowball into some larger changes.  That hopefully those I love will notice and want to know about, take part in.  Of course I know having my house burn down would be traumatic and horrible, but for me, it would also equate to taking the easy way out... getting rid of things without having to do any of the hard work that had to do with getting rid of things.  

I am looking forward to seeing the payoff spiritually, mentally, financially, and with my health and I'm ready to do the work.  

Well, hello!  I'm Angie.  I'm a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend and a pastor's wife (don't hold it against me.)  I try my best to follow Jesus.  I've been lovingly told I'm a pistol, and sometimes I go off unexpectedly.  I try to keep that under control, friends, I do.  But it's just so hard sometimes.  

I am a wife to Donn (who I'll call The Pastor here, because it drives him a little bit crazy and it makes me giggle), a mom to two grown boys, and a mother-in-law to the greatest girl ever (seriously, I would have picked her myself- but thank goodness my son was smart enough to grab her up.)  I have a big, fat, golden retriever who has never retrieved one thing.  She's very naughty, and I love her even though her breath always smells like she just ate an entire school of fish.  

I'm a pastor's wife, which, after many years now, I still find hilarious.  That God of mine has a sense of humor.  Sometimes I get mad at him for putting me in this position. But even then I still figure that He knows best, so I try to give Him the benefit of a doubt, especially when it gets rough.  Which it does.  But back to me being a pistol... 

Since I was a child, I have always had the capability to shock my Southern Belle Mississippi-Born mother.  Either with my mouth or my tattoo or any other number of things.  One day when she's gone, I will really miss her saying "Angie!" in her very loud whisper that is reserved for her most horrified-sounding reactions.  Usually the rest of the "Angie!" is followed by "that's not something a proper pastor's wife would say!" or some other variation on that theme.  

I don't think I shock The Pastor anymore- but he does like it that I'm spunky and that the mama-bear is still alive and well in me.  She exists to care for my friends and family, even though my kids are grown and (almost) gone.  Seriously, don't poke her.  Anyway, one day several years ago, The Pastor announced that he'd found the perfect song for US.  Up until this point, our song was the soul-stirring "Almost Paradise" from the Academy Award-winning movie Footloose (circa 1984, folks. Remember Mike Reno from Loverboy in those red leather pants?)  Needless to say, I was excited for an upgrade.  

He proceeded to play Pistol by Dustin Kensrue and just like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes that day.  Here are the lyrics:  

I Love how you curse when I wake you up

Sweetly demand that I fill your cup

With the smile of your cool gunpowder glare

Honey, you lay me bare

You're the girl of my dreams

And a pistol it seems, but you shoot me straight and true

Time to lay down my bets

Oh, I put all my money on you

When I'm in the dark, girl, you bring me light

It seems like you're almost always right

So keep boxing my ears when I sew them shut

Baby, you sure are tough

You're the girl of my dreams

And a pistol it seems, but you shoot me straight and true

Time to lay down my fears

Honey, I feel so safe around you

If the tiller man taught me anything

It's that a hard headed woman is what I need

To help me to always do my best

Baby, my life is blessed

You're the girl of my dreams

Darling, please wear this ring

You're an angel through and through

Time to lay down my life

Honey, I'd do it gladly for you

Time to lay down my life

Honey, I'd do it gladly for you

Since that's now our song and The Pastor's official ringtone for me, and since certainly my mother would agree, I thought that The Pistol Speaks would be a fitting name for my little corner of the world wide web.  Hope you agree.  

Bye now!