Is decluttering only for the wealthy? (How to be a better materialist)

Minimalist blogger Joshua Becker recently linked to a Wall Street Journal article about Baby Boomers downsizing. The story seemed to be aimed at upscale readers whose biggest downsizing headache is selling off their art collections.

On the other end of the scale is this blog post at This Simple Balance: 8 Tips for Decluttering on a Low Income (from a mom who's been there). This writer points out the difficulty of asking "Does this bring joy?" when the bigger concerns are "Is this still functional?" and "What if we can't afford another one?"

Our family lived on one income for a long time, and then on even less as we moved to self-employment. We did go through tight-budget, don't-say-no-to-anything times, especially when the kids were young and seemed to need different-sized shoes and clothes every time we turned around.

And even that, compared to serious poverty in this country and overseas, was really nothing. We still had lots of clutter and overload, partly because we got too good at scrounging, and partly because we figured we would eventually find uses for stored stuff. (Often we did.) We were also holding on to many childhood and family items.

So are minimalism and decluttering only options for those who don't have to get anxious about living with less, or about giving away possibly useful things?

I agree with This Simple Balance that some minimalist maxims and strategies work better for those who have more choices. But everybody needs a little of what Amy Dacyczyn calls "margin": clear spaces around things and events, so that we appreciate them properly.  And we may actually benefit when we use our imaginations to repurpose things, or our generosity to share them.

Many of us have stories of our children, or ourselves as children, cherishing one toy, or improvising playthings. When our oldest was a toddler, she used a kitchen chair as her toy stove, with a few yard-saled toy pots. A few years later, we found a large plastic "play kitchen" on Kijiji for her younger sister. Yes, they played with it, but it was an eyesore in the room, and it was always a mess. Then there was even more stress when they outgrew the thing and we suggested passing it on. That would never have happened with a kitchen chair, right?

We also need to claim the right to say "enough," no matter what our income. Someday, sooner or later, the whole economy could change so that we can no longer easily access consumer goods. We might be trading chicken eggs for plumbing work, and making over old clothes because we can't get new ones.  But even then, we have the right to live with, use, and enjoy just enough, and to say no to whatever multiplicity we're stepping on and tripping over. We should feel free to be That Family or That Person, the ones who always sing the same songs, play the same card game after meals, or stop at the same deli on weekends. Maybe your grandchildren will remember your one and only cookie recipe, or your beat-up hat. Call those things quirks, call them traditions, call them your signature item; but don't call them bad things. The author of Affluenza says that if we were a truly materialist (vs. consumerist) culture, we would resist buying new old couches and coats, because we're so fond of the ones we have.

For a few of us, choosing to live with less may start with trimming down the artwork. For others, it's cleaning out the basement once and for all. But the key seems to be, not idolizing, but learning to cherish.

Laughing is doing too (Do-Vember #5)

Do-Vember

This guide to Furby-speak popped up on Pinterest for me today. It was suggested for my '60's and '70's Kids nostalgia board.

Which is pretty weird, because Furby wasn't introduced until 1998. The closest thing to a Furby that I have on my board is the late-60's Rat Fink.

But the guide to Furby-speak was very entertaining. Apparently the Furby can communicate such concepts as:

"Boh-bay" = "Worry"

and

"Dah lee-koo wah!" = "Big sound!"

and

"Kah-toh-loo-may-tay" = "Me like kisses."

I told Lydia we need one of those guides for guinea-pig squeals and chirps.

My teddy, Grandpa's rocker

Family treasures at Christmas. My grandpa was born on a farm in what's now part of Toronto, at the turn of the last century, and he and his sister used this little chair as children. 

The Christmas Stick (book review)

The Christmas Stick, by Tim J. Myers.  Illustrated by Necdet Yilmaz.  Published by Paraclete Press, November 2014.

What bad things could one say about a well-illustrated picture book that promotes low-tech, natural playthings for somewhat spoiled princes (and princesses)? Not many.

The prince (he's nameless) receives a lot of toys one Christmas that move by themselves, don't offer much scope for the imagination, and end up broken before too long. His grandmother, on the other hand, gives him a long stick, which (as you can guess) becomes his favourite plaything. In an interesting twist at the end, the prince finds a way to pass the gift on, having learned the intended lesson. Or maybe it wasn't a lesson. Maybe his grandmother just wanted him to have fun.

Taken on its own terms, The Christmas Stick is a cute story, and yes, it does have a message of simplicity (though nothing specifically about the Christian meaning of Christmas). But is it the princes (and princesses) themselves who need this message, or their parents and other lavish gift-givers? The fact that the prince never gets a name, for instance, creates a certain distance, makes him a bit less real; and the thought that the story might just be propaganda for fewer toys (and more wrapped-up sticks) might not go over well with some kids. The difficulty is not that we don't remember and acknowledge instances in our own lives when simple playthings won out; it's just that slightly defensive feeling that we, the parents, are getting a sermon here on the appeal of long sticks.

But maybe it wasn't intended that way.  Maybe the author just wanted us to have fun too. And in that case, I'd give this enough Christmas stars to pass it on to some little ones I know.

Please note that families who do not allow talk of wizards etc. will find a few references in this book offensive.

I was sent a complimentary copy of this book from the publishers, for review purposes, but  received no other compensation.

Strictly nostalgia: for a dollar and two labels...

1967 advertisement:
"Kids! Now you can play in the Green Giant's house 30" square, 27" high, made of tough polyethylene to fit over a standard card table! The Giant's jolly new playhouse is a cozy place for kids to play, it looks just like the leaf covered cottages you might find in the Valley. And it's made of heavy-duty polyethylene, with real see-thru windows on all four sides. It's compact, too--slips right over a standard 30"x30"x27" card table--so you can put it up easily indoors or out."

Something Dollygirl made

What is it?  A stage, for Dollygirl's Doll-scars Awards Ceremony.  Mr. Snowman appears to be doing a sound check.

Engineering, yes, what every tot dreams of at Christmas

"...a few exciting, against-the-grain developments: Toys R Us’ announcement in September that it will put an end to gender-specific marketing in the UK; Lego’s recent introduction of a female-scientist mini-figure to its lineup; and a just-gone-viral video from startup toy company GoldieBlox encouraging little girls to ditch sparkly pink pretend for play based on engineering."

 Oh brave new world.

 (Found here.)

Sheer nostalgia, last post: Three vintage toys with fun names

Fuzzy Felt

Tog'L Blocks

Colourforms (Colorforms if you're American)

Sheer nostalgia #4: Tupperware toys

Tupperware toys were everywhere when I was a kid.  At our house, at friends' houses, in doctors' waiting rooms.  I was invited to a Tupperware party recently and noticed that they still have some of the same toys.  Too bad our kids are too old for them.

 Our kids' dentist had a vintage set of these animal toys in his waiting room.

 We had Pop-a-lot toys like this pair, but ours had a sort of snap-action instead of a squishy bulb.

Shape Sorter:  still in the catalogue!

Sheer nostalgia #2: toys from our past

Found on Ebay here.

I had forgotten about this toy for about forty years.  When I started searching for "plastic steam roller," I wasn't sure I'd even remember what it looked like...and I think my grandpa might have had more than one.

But this was one of them.  Almost for sure, unless my mind is completely playing tricks and I'm thinking of my aunt's grey-and-red roller skates.

My grandpa?  He loved steam trains and steam farm equipment.  He drove a vintage steam tractor at an annual Labour Day steam fair.  Somebody probably gave him this for a joke present...and it became something for the grandchildren to play with.  Being the oldest grandchild, that would have been me, until the others came along.  On the floor, from the dining room into Grandma's kitchen, and back again.  Over the heating grate.  Back to the kitchen again.

I'd forgotten.  Sometimes it takes a picture to drag things up.

Sheer nostalgia: a toy from my past

I didn't own this push-toy.  It resided in a tiny bookcase in the dining room of a great-aunt and uncle, along with a tub of kindergarten beads and a fake book with a snake that popped out.  These were their "toys to amuse visiting children," and we pushed those piggies, strung those beads, and popped that snake many times over the years, while the adults visited.

(It's not my photo either--I found it online.)

Frugality, second (or third) generation (updated with photos)

Our Dollygirl was recently given a Samantha doll by her Grandpa Squirrel.  Samantha is a "retired" American Girl doll, so she was acquired through E-bay.  She is in very good condition and is missing only her shoes.  Samantha, if you're not up on your American Girls, is a well-off eleven-year old from 1904.  Dollygirl wanted her to feel at home, so to speak.

We found out that Samantha was coming last Sunday night.  By the time the package arrived on Tuesday, Dollygirl had already carved out an extra doll-space in her room, made a bed from a box, and contrived some Edwardian-inspired bedding.  

She had previously borrowed a pair of pajamas from her doll-playing friends around the corner, so Mama Squirrel's nightwear services were not required.  In fact, this is one doll setup that Dollygirl has managed almost completely on her own.  (We do have the free downloaded patterns for "Samantha's Pretty Clothes.")

Samantha's homemade bedroom furniture includes not only the bed but a washstand (also from a box) with a Mylar mirror, and a nightstand from a plastic container.

She also has a small (real) copy of The Wizard of Oz (Dollygirl says it's Samantha's favourite book), a Madame Alexander Oz doll (McDonald's giveaway), a sewing basket with an embroidery project that we scavenged from a Little Women treasure chest, and some mini paper dolls (same).  Dollygirl made her a lunch basket with a plastic peach, a Sculpey roll, and a cookie (all things she had already), and she's working on some school supplies.

All without having to so much as shake Dollygirl's piggy bank.  Or ours. (The Springfield doll line, at Michael's, apparently includes some plain black shoes that should fit Samantha's feet, and that shouldn't set us back much.)

I am very proud of my next-generation frugal-hacker.


Linked from Festival of Frugality #388 at The Frugal Toad.

Cheap and Classic Cardboard Tutorial: 18-inch Doll Table and Chairs

Dollygirl's dolls have been needing a table, and chairs to go with it. Doll furniture is not something we see a lot of in local stores, and the online options (new and used) are generally expensive; nice, but expensive.  So Mama Squirrel came up with some almost-free alternatives.  We used what we had; you can adapt our plans for whatever dolls (or boxes) you have.

The table

The table base was made from the insert to a two-piece cardboard file box; that is, a corrugated cardboard box 12 inches long by 9 1/2 inches high, and 4 inches deep. 

You'll notice a small cutout on each side, which I used for the legs; that's optional.  I cut the 9 1/2 inches down slightly, to about 8 3/4 inches; otherwise it would have been just a bit too high for the dolls to sit at.  I realize that not everybody is going to have the insert to a file box; but I think you could find a cereal box or other cardboard food box that would be about the right size; go for the sturdiest you can find, and reinforce it with extra cardboard or a second box shoved inside, if you think it needs it (especially if your box is not corrugated cardboard).  Whatever box you use has to be both deep enough to be able to sit firmly on its edge, and strong enough to support the tabletop and whatever you want to put on the table.

I stuffed the box with crumpled newspaper, and glued a piece of scrap cardboard into the open space to hold the newspaper in (not shown in the photos).

I glued some decorative file-folder cardboard (we found several packages of fancy folders at a yard sale) to the top and sides. 

You could use scrapbooking paper, wrapping paper, or whatever else you have, and possibly add a coating of something like decoupage medium if it seems to need extra protection.  For our purposes, the folders were enough.

That's it for the base!

The tabletop is purposely not glued on, both for storage reasons and because I wanted to make it reversible.  I glued two of the decorative file folders (cutting off the tabs) to a piece of cereal-box cardboard, and then added clear sticky plastic on each side for protection (leaving a bit of overhang).  For the size of table base we had, a tabletop the size of a file folder was just right.  If your base is narrower, a smaller tabletop might work better.

Again, you could use any kind of decorative paper or even coloured sticky vinyl; something in woodgrain might be nice.  If I were doing it again, I think I might use stronger cardboard in the middle; because what we ended up with was not much heavier than a laminated placemat.  It does work all right (the dolls have been using it now for a few days), but a more solid core wouldn't hurt.

The chairs

Each chair was made from two pieces of a Dr. Oetker baking-mix carton; we picked up two for free at the supermarket.  They're made like thrones, both for sturdiness and to accommodate the sitting difficulties of dolls who don't have joints in all the normal human places. 

I cut a main piece from each carton, 10 1/2 inches high, 7 1/2 inches wide (although it spreads out to more like 8 inches at the open end), 5 inches deep, in the shape of a flat back with three sides; and a seat piece, same shape, 7 inches high, 7 1/2 inches wide, 5 inches deep. There were some flaps at the top of the carton, which I folded down inside the back and sides.  I slid the two parts together (didn't glue them), with the closed part of the bigger piece at the bottom, and the open part at the top.  The seat piece juts out a bit from the main piece, but I wanted it that way to give the dolls a good deep seat.  It's fine if the two pieces come from different boxes or otherwise don't match; you're going to slipcover them anyway.

I used part of a vintage white cotton bedsheet to make fitted slipcovers.  (Any medium-weight fabric would work fine.) This is MUCH easier than it sounds.  Once you have the cardboard pieces made, you use those to make the patterns, either on a large piece of paper or right on the backside of the fabric.  Trace around the back of the large piece; then flip it up and trace around it again for the matching front piece--leaving just a bit of space between the two to allow for the thickness of the cardboard.  Turn the cardboard on its side and trace each side twice, again allowing a small gap between pieces.  An optional bit I added on:  add a small amount to the very front, to make a flap that will go under the seat piece.  Add a quarter inch to the pattern edges and bottom for seam allowances.  Your pattern piece will look about like this:

The pattern piece I made for the smaller seat section was very similar:  I traced the top, then the front, then the sides.  I really should have traced the back as well, or at least a flap going partway down the back, because if you don't, you will end up with a bit of a loose edge at the back of the seat, when you put it together.  Add seam allowances and hem allowances (unless you're using a finished edge of the sheet, which is what I did here).  The pattern piece for the seat will look like this, without the back:

Here's what the fabric pieces look like, cut out, with the flap added to the large piece and the fourth side added to the seat piece.  You can tell the sheet was a bit wrinkled--I did iron it afterwards.

The sewing is what Adrian Mole would call dead easy.  Don't forget to turn the fabric inside out first.  On the seat piece, just sew up the side seams, then turn up the hem and zigzag that if you need to.  On the main piece, you will have two small seams that will end up on the very front edges of the chair.  If you're not sure where they go, try the slipcover on the chair, inside out, and pin the two seams closed before you sew.  Plus a hem--turn up a quarter inch and zigzag.  Don't hem the extra flap, if you made one; just start hemming at one side of it, work around, and stop when you get to the other side of the flap.

Slip the slipcovers on...

...put the two parts together...

...and that's it.  Oh--you might want to add some padding on the seat, between the slipcover and the cardboard.  You could glue some foam or batting onto the cardboard seat, but I just slipped a folded washcloth between the two.  One note: I did add a bit of tape to the back edges of the seat slipcover to help it stay put.  If you add the fourth side when you cut out the fabric, you won't need to do that.

The dolls are enjoying their new dining room!  (Dollygirl is going to take a photo of the whole thing plus dolls.)

All photos by Mr. Fixit.  Copyright 2012, Dewey's Treehouse.

Linked from Mad in Crafts Link Party #131.  Also linked from Festival of Frugality #366.

Scenes from a dollhouse

All photos by Dollygirl.  Copyright 2012 Dewey's Treehouse.

Baby afghan, baby "stress toys" (crocheting)

Yarn: Red Heart Super Saver (mostly.  I think the dark brown might have been another brand--I bought that awhile ago).
Pattern: Just a big granny square
Photos: Mr. Fixit. Copyright 2011 Dewey's Treehouse.

A never-ending stream of craft ideas

Anyone who thinks that nobody sews these days should check out Sew Mama Sew, as they continue a month-long series on gifts to make--and buy and print out--for people of all ages and interests.  Today's entry is Gifts for Scholars--book bags, wrist wrests, Kindle keepers, and more. (Their gift posts from past years are also on the website.) 

And crocheted dishcloths--knitted ones too--I thought were long gone, but with this era's eco-emphasis they're back, in every shape imaginable.  Here's a visual sampling of what's currently out there; I especially like the Scrubby Rows Dish Cloth at Little House in the Suburbs.

How to make a Barbie house

Just in case you ever need to know this:

Two temporary versions:

Foamboard and Duct Tape Barbie Size House, at Frugal Abundance (that's Miss Maggie's blog)

Cardboard Barbie House at Filth Wizardry

And one fancier one:

A Barbie House Made From "Trash," at Proverbs 31 Living

Horse parties--enough of this galloping around

"I want a horse party"--sounds simple, right?

A lot of the horse-and-pony-party websites assume that you must have unlimited funds and/or local stores brimming with cowboy toys. Some peoples' descriptions of their children's parties sound more like the Calgary Stampede. We wanted to have fun, but maybe not on that scale. Still, how hard could it be to come up with a few horse-themed decorations or toys?

Mama Squirrel can now understand why people end up buying the whole thing online.

We went to a party-ware store that had one mylar horse balloon--and that was it, the rest of the store seemed to be all 40th-birthday parties and adult Halloween costumes.

We went to the bulk store and couldn't find anything neat or original (which turned out to be a good thing since one of the guests has peanut allergies and can't have anything from the bulk store). Jellybeans and pretzels would have been fine, but we were hoping for something sort of cool, like gummy horseshoes.

We went to the "bargain store"--like the dollar store but they charge more. They had no party stuff at all. And very few horses.

We went to the Big Z department store, looked in the toy aisle and found nothing except big toy sets. We did pick up some striped paper plates and napkins, and two packages of dried-fruit snacks.

We went to the Craft Store. All the horse stickers were in the scrapbooking section and priced accordingly. We settled for plastic harmonicas, two packs of balloons, and a Toob of tiny horses (which ended up as game prizes). Mama Squirrel also bought a big ball of brown yarn--which became horses. (Note on the harmonicas: we would probably have been better off with the kazoos they sold, since those are supposed to sound kind of bad anyway.)

(We already had stuffing and scraps of other yarn for manes and saddles. Mama Squirrel would point out that the pattern, while quite good, has a couple of quirks. There's no mention of tails, and there's also no mention of stuffing the legs--but since we didn't want collapsed horses, we thought it must have been just an omission. Also, if you'll notice, all those seven horses were made by the same person using the same pattern--and some of them are quite different, depending on how firm they are stuffed and on the angle that the head is sewn on. No right or wrong, just pointing out how much Results Can Vary.)

We thought we had some clear gift bags, but remembered that we used them up at Christmas. Tin pails would have been fun, but not at Craft Store prices. So Crayons potato-printed paper lunch bags (we made a horseshoe and a star print), and we filled them with the fruit snacks, harmonicas, and crocheted horses. It might have been nice to have a few other candies or smaller things, but as Mama Squirrel has already pointed out, such things were not exactly plentiful (and we didn't think we could handle any more stores).

For decorations, we blew up the balloons, put out as many horse toys and books as we could find, and sidewalk-painted horseshoes coming up to the front door. (Ponytails added a welcome message with chalk.)

And Crayons took charge of the front-door table.

How 7-year-olds think

Walking through the toy department, already stocked for Christmas:

Mom: Most of these dolls are pretty junky.

Crayons: (In a most adult tone) Oh yes, I know... (wistful pause) But they can be very pretty.

Those pink boxes go right to a girl's heart, don't they?

Frugality is child's play

[Reposted from 2005]

Saturday’s National Post ran an article by Style At Home editor Yuki Hayashi called “Retro Chic is Child’s Play.” Subtitle: “Old-fashioned housewares, toys and clothing are the hot thing for mom and dad’s stylish newbie [baby].” The gist of it (with apologies because I can’t link to it) is that Bob the Builder wallpaper borders are passe in nurseries; chandeliers and refurbished dressers are in; plastic toys are out, “golden age” 1920's-style toys are in. But only if you have the money to buy them. (Mama Squirrel’s main feeling about this nursery-retro thing is that possibly the decorators haven’t actually lived with children very much; crib blankets made of antique chenille don’t sound like they’d survive more than one good upset stomach.)

Mama Squirrel knows she should be delighted to hear that companies like T.J. Whitney’s Traditional Toys are producing things like hardwood ABC blocks, and that stores like Toronto’s Kolkid are selling them (although as the store owner says in the article, “These aren’t Wal-Mart prices.”). As her friend the Deputy Headmistress at The Common Room has pointed out (see here), there are many advantages to natural materials, simple toys, things carefully chosen and worthy of being passed down to future generations. Things that biodegrade, things that have educational value, things that are fun.

However, like anything else, the cost of this trendiness puts it out of the realm of most of us single-incomers, at least in its upscale incarnation. The Squirrel family does live near an educational/alternative toy store (although not as funky a place as the stores in Toronto). Some of the toys there are very good and affordable, others fall into the grandparents-only category. Handmade hardwood blocks would be nice if we had a couple of hundred extra dollars for them...ironically though, the squirrelings still play with a tubful of pine blocks that Grandpa Squirrel cut in his workshop about thirty years ago. (They make great beds and tables for the squirrelings’...ugh...collection of plastic troll dolls. Definitely not Retro Chic.) We do have some alphabet blocks, too, but they came from the dollar store and were bought because we needed to spell somebody's name on a birthday cake. How about the squirrelings’ much-used tubs of Duplo and Lego? Mama Squirrel knows quite well that those are not made of natural materials and that they would probably hurt the sensibilities of the trendoids (not to mention their feet if they stepped on a lost piece). But they do have a place in the Treehouse (usually all over the floor).

The main ingredient that seems to be missing in all this trendiness, is the creativity and fun of doing and making these things yourself. (Oh please...like back to The Waltons? No, really. Besides, this is where ANYBODY can do this just as well as the Trendoids, even if the toy budget is miniscule.) Two of the squirrel girls have handmade rag dolls that their Grandma Squirrel made them (with dresses to match some of their own). The Apprentice has made model “cub cars” with Mr. Fixit (one of them won a championship race a few years ago). The squirrelings have made Barbie dresses, things for their dollhouse, and put together battery-powered gizmos like a flashing headband. (Mr. Fixit can always make those books of science experiments work.) Ponytails has knitted herself a hairband and is busy right now learning to boondoggle (see her post below).

Our young squirrels are not short on toys. They have classic books and things to use their imaginations with (even if they're plastic). They have homemade things we've improvised (or they have, which is even better). They also have a Dora the Explorer backpack, a beeping plastic cash register, an assortment of Barbies, and the aforementioned plastic trolls. The squirrel philosophy is that it is better to have things that you like, that get used, and that mean something, than to worry about how they fit the decor.

And in Mama Squirrel’s final opinion, it is more fun to crochet a puppet yourself than to buy it in a funky store on Queen Street West.