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Organized...And Then Some

When my mother died, I kept only a handful of her belongings — some costume jewelry I’d always loved, two highly-utilitarian crockery soup mugs, a single decorative glass chicken (from her four-score collection), Richard’s old-school-roll-up-with-a-crank tape measure (since I didn’t already own a length-quantification-device), and one seriously freaky-looking wicker monkey that hung in-my-bedroom-then-on-her-sun porch (‘cuz…

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Organized...And Then Some

Me: So tell me now why you’re keeping this set of encyclopedias from 1983? And designer sheets for a size bed you no longer own? And a dozen different half-empty-decade-old containers of makeup? Client: Well you see, it was all really expensive. Me: You don’t actually use any of it, though. Right? Client: Not for…

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Living In A Tin Can

I was chatting with a couple yesterday — while waiting for the start of a live Hunger–Games-style-kill-or-be-killed theatrical performance, only with video game characters like Mario and Link and Donkey Kong. (It’s fair to say that we gypsies do meet people in the strangest places!) Anyway, I listened with great patience (and a solo cup…

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Organized...And Then Some

Growing up as I did with a depression-era-hoarder for a parental-unit, my childhood was filled with incomplete projects, not-yet-fully-realized ideas, and I-swear-I’ll-find-a-good-use-for-it-one-of-these-days stuff — every bit of which mi madre promised she would eventually transform into something amazing. Unfortunately, most of it never happened. Then time ran out. After Pearl’s funeral, I spent three months…

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Living In A Tin Can

You know the time is right for something to happen when you’re suddenly bomarded with a cascade of fall-from-the-sky-and-land-unexpectedly-in-your-lap opportunities — and this was sure-as-hell the case as I made my decision to hit the road full-time. (In fact, I ended up with some pretty grody-looking bruises that made folks think I’d either been assaulted…

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Big Girl Business Panties

Entrepreneurial-noobs are always asking what skills they need to succeed at self-employment. I tell them a-touch-of-OCD-paired-with-a-healthy-lack-of-fucks doesn’t hurt. They laugh — but I’m totally serious. Now before your thong gets all twisted up and you start screaming accusations of politically-nowhere-near-correct-insensitivity-toward-the-quote-unquote-mentally-problematic in my face, allow me to clarify. (Yeah right — like that little intended-as-a-joke-but-destined-for-widespread-offendability euphemism…

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Organized...And Then Some

While decrapifying a client, I ask a lot of annoying questions. The most important inquiry (no matter whether we’re talking the getting-rid-of-physical-piles or clearing-out-of-space-in-an-overloaded-schedule or stemming-of-a-paper-tide-that’s-flowing-in-at-head-height-and-causing-liquid-respiratory-impairment) is always “tell me why you’re keeping it.” Should my peeps present me with a good reason (meaning logical-defensible-and-immune-to-my-indefatigable-efforts-at-satanic-advocation) — that thing/activity/document stays. If what they offer instead is…

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Organized...And Then Some

“I’ve failed before — more than once. It’s become pretty danged clear to me that I’m incapable of doing (insert whatever life-change-objective has become an unbearable thorn in your side).” Huh. Really. Not to launch into a rant or anything (cuz lord knows we wouldn’t want THAT) — but I must share how sick-to-freaking-death I…

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Organized...And Then Some

When we talk goal-setting-follow-through, which tends to work better? Promising yourself an ooey-gooey-sticky-fingered-clog-up-them-arteries reward (mine are always chocolatey, if you couldn’t tell) — or threatening yourself with an ass-smacking? Imma bet (particularly in light of our modern-day “every-special-snowflake-gets-a-trophy-and-a-pat-on-their-delicate-little-tuchus” societal inclinations) that most folks will choose carrot over stick any day. But according to science? Punishment…

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Organized...And Then Some

You know why so many people (insert some-totally-ridiculous-yet-fully-legit-statistic-like-ninety-percent-of-conscious-breathing-sentient-homo-sapiens) fail to see each year’s resolutions all the way through? Because them cold-weather-goals we keep setting are just too big, too vague, too dadgummed-mother-flipping-overwhelming to seem feasible. ‘Course it’s natural to get excited about potential life-change and become a-tad-shall-we-say-overzealous in your efforts. But going from zero-to-a-hundred-and-sixty all…

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