Use it up
Wear it out
Make it do
Do without

Living by this simple principle has saved untold amount of money, time, and hassle. Ah… if only it always worked!

Good decision?

Use it up
That sounds so easy, doesn’t it? It can be, provided I don’t go crazy and buy a giant box of frosted flakes that I must eat every day before it spoils. I once bought a ginormous tub of I-really-know-it’s-not-butter, and then read an article that made me want to go organic. Do I toss it? Use it? Quandry.

Wear it out
Oh, this is a really good one. Take the perfectly good pink shirt that ended up with splotches of blue because an indigo blue sock got in the wash with the reds/pinks. I wore it at home so no one would see it but me and the kids. How many years have I had it now? Yeah. Wearing things out can take time.

Make it do
There are times when a person has to upgrade. That old-fashioned mop and bucket are in good shape, but I keep seeing those commercials with the flat thing that angles and reaches all those corners — and the lady tosses the dirty cloth into the trash instead of wringing it out and spreading dirty water all over the floor. Hmm. Toss it? Buy new? How often do I have to buy more of those cloth thingies? Is that a green solution? Is it healthy to have that icky water all over the place? What to do…

Do without
In today’s economy, doing without isn’t always a choice. It’s a necessity. Do I really need a new car? The old one gets good mileage, it’s paid for, and it runs okay. But it needs paint, the interior is getting shabby no matter how clean I keep it. Seats wear out. What are ya gonna do? Is it smart spending to buy new? Is it wise to go into debt for a car? And what about other things that I can’t “do without” but can’t afford? Where do I cut? Food, prescriptions, school? I really kind of need electricity…

The motto is a great guideline, and helps make a lot of choices for me, but there are times when I have to set it aside. Knowing when is key, and that only comes with experience. Oh, and take my advice. Skip the cheap paper towels and buy a brand that holds together. Nothing worse than sopping up something icky and having it soak through and end up all over you. Some things are worth the splurge.

After all, how many pairs of shoes does one person really need? Okay, okay. We’ll skip that question. LOL

Fun shoes in a rainbow of color

Being the list type, I sat down and sketched out ideas, and ended up using several. Fortunately, I keep those sorts of things, and my notes were handy recently when one of my sisters experienced an apartment fire. No one was hurt, her items were cleaned, and she was moved to a new unit in her apartment building. Still, once she settled in, she had to redecide where to put everything. Both units had the same square footage, but not everything fit the way it had before.

To help her get started, I shared some of my notes, and realized that they would make a good blog article. I say that to say this — getting organized doesn’t always mean throwing everything out. Here are some other ways to get started.

Money makers:

• Yard sale with a family member who has a yard and wouldn’t mind getting rid of things either.
• Post the items on eBay.com “one man’s junk is another man’s treasure” Buyers always pay shipping.

Giveaways:

• Have a family “yard sale” where only family has the choice of what pieces they want. No money has to change hands.
• Post a note on the bulletin board in your subdivision or apartment building that you have xyz free to a good home. Others might love to have it.

Storage:

• A plastic storage container is better than a box because it protects against moisture and insects, and is less likely to crush and damage the contents.
• Start with a medium size box and add another as you fill it up.
• Wrap each piece you want to keep in clean paper (newspaper is okay for non-staining items, but don’t use comic pages or color print ads).
• Place the heaviest items on the bottom and most fragile on top.

Donating:

• Some thrift stores and family agencies will pick up items. Most have limits, so call ahead to find out.
• Ask for a receipt. These are generally blank except for a date and a signature. Write out the kinds of things you donated, and affix a fair-market-value to them if you want to deduct the donation on your taxes. Essentially, use the price you would expect to pay in a resale shop.
• To better understand how to affix a value, go to http://irs.gov and search on the subject “value of donated items” or use this link: http://www.irs.gov/publications/p561/ar02.html#d0e545 Here is the tinyurl for the same spot: http://tinyurl.com/2b7ht6x

Avoiding Junk in the First Place:

As the old saying goes, the best offense is a good defense. Avoid taking home things that will end up being considered clutter. To do that, ask yourself a few questions before taking things home. If the answer to any of the following questions is no or you’re unsure, leave it and move on. Adjust to fit your purpose (for example, if you’re picking out something for someone else).

• Will it add value to my life?
• Can I use it now?
• Will it fit me and do I have items to match it already? (especially clothing)
• Is it my favorite color?
• Is it in good repair?
• Do I want to dust/clean/maintain it regularly?
• Do I know exactly where it will fit in my home/closet?

When I feel overwhelmed by an organization task, I set a timer for ten minutes, and work on only one thing during that time. When the bell rings, I stop and assess what I did. I’m usually pleased with how much I accomplished. I take a five-minute break and then set it for ten more minutes. It’s amazing what you can achieve in ten to twenty minutes. Some days, you may only have time for five minutes, on others, fifteen to thirty. Make it small numbers and you won’t begrudge the time. It takes me just under five minutes to strip the bed and put the sheets in the washer. I can also put away the silverware from the dishwasher in the time it takes to fill a one-gallon pitcher with filtered water at the sink. I try to make it fun, and see how quickly I can do things while something else is happening, like folding towels during commercials on TV, which has the bonus of keeping me from snacking.

As a little girl, I took great joy in playing house. I’d fold and refold, smooth and straighten doll clothes, and make everything just so. My toys weren’t always dolls; I loved playing in the mud too. I realized one day that I’d lost the joy of handling these details, and challenged myself to make work more playful.

It’s surprising how much fun playing house can be. It’s almost as much fun as playing doctor. *wink*

One of the reasons I started Romance Roll Call was to also provide a place for writers and readers to find resources. I’ve been asked multiple times where are good places to start and I’ve got my own backlist of great books out there. But for authors who have no personal military experience but who want to write about soldiers, research is required and the sheer amount of books out there in your local book store can be daunting, to say the least.

So today marks the first Non Fiction Spotlight. It will run every third Monday and will feature non fiction books, either on the military itself or on writing. The spotlight will tell a little about the book and let you decide where to start.

One of the most powerful books I’ve read about the Iraq War to date is Martha Raddatz’s The Long Road Home. Not simply because it’s about 1st Cavalry Division troopers and the 1st Cav is where I earned my combat spurs, but because I’m friends with some of the men in that story. My brigade commander was the battalion commander there and I had no idea what he’d gone through when I was tasked to be his aide one week in 2008. But after a bad training run in a MOUT (military operations in urban terrain) site, he asked me if I knew what happened in Sadr City. He told me I needed to talk to CPT Aguero and listen to him.

I found this book within a day of coming back from the field and read it. I didn’t know any of the men at the time of reading it. Aguero is somewhat of a legend but when you get to know him, at the heart of him is a warrior. A man who simply wants to be at war, doing what the army trained him to do.

See CPT Aguero was the platoon leader who was pinned down inside an alley with his platoon in Sadr City. They’d been out on a mission when the Mahdi Militia decided they were ready to fight. They picked the fight on the day of TOA (transfer of authority) before the battalion commander officially owned the battlespace.

There is some focus in this book about Casey Sheehan and his mother, anti war activist Cindy Sheehan’s reaction to his death but this book is not completely about her or her son. Ms Raddatz takes you onto the FOB. You can feel the devastation of the men as they fight to bring their trapped platoon home. And you can feel the horror of the soldiers who have to make some of the hardest decisions in war in order to survive.

If you want to feel the urgency of needing to get into the fight to save your men, if you want to feel the pain of the wives back home, waiting for notification, read this book. Ms Raddatz’s storytelling is profound and this book marks a significant contribution to our war’s history.

You can order The Long Road Home through AMAZON, BARNES & NOBLE, BORDERS or wherever you find books.

This is about making friends during all those freakin’ moves.

Settling down is a lot harder work than I thought. In the military, your friends are your co-workers. But if you’re the spouse who follows or the kids who change schools, you don’t have co-workers. You have to make friends. Fortunately, most learn how to do this, and it’s a skill you use for the rest of your life.

I’m on the other side of the fence now. I don’t have to make new friends because I’ve lived in the same place for—wait for it!—four whole years! I’m the person who the military has to make friends with. Yay!

I’m going to tell you a dirty little secret now: Some civilians are wary of making friends with military families. Why? Because they move! As hard as it is for military families to pick up and move every two or three years, it’s just as hard to watch your friends leave. One of my civilian friends confessed that when her then-first grade daughter’s best friend moved away, it devastated her child, to the point she was wary of close friendships with military families after that.

There is a key word in that last sentence: close. In my adult life, I can count best friends on one hand, and two of those friends are where I live now. I would be willing to bet that even full-time civilians don’t have more than a couple of best friends, but loads of just friends.

As any military person will tell you, we have loads of friends too. We exchange cards with them every year; sometimes we track them on Facebook; and sometimes we move to the same location again. Even if we lose touch, we’re still friends. These are the friends that come over in the middle of the night to sleep on your couch while you run your sick dog to an emergency vet. They tell you about people they know in the area you’re moving to, so you’ll know someone when you get there. They offer to watch your newborn because your maternity leave is up and your baby is too young for childcare.

So maybe I am on the other side of the fence now, and maybe we’ll never be best friends. But if you come to my hometown, I got your back. Because military people aren’t just friends, they’re family. And I’ll do whatever I have to for my family.

Call me. I’m here for you. ~ AJ

www.AJBrower.com

Since that first Christmas, there have been others where I stayed in Texas or Korea or went skiing, but since I’ve had kids, the last five Christmas Days have been memorable, either because of being with the kids or being without them. In 2004, I was a new mom, alone with a colicy baby and a husband who’d gone back to Iraq a few short weeks prior. At 4 am, the baby was awake, so I fed her, then opened presents for her with the dogs to keep us both company.
2005, mommy and daddy were both home and we stayed in Texas, hanging around the house and relaxing.

2006, I was alone again, this time, with a 2 month old and my then 2 year old. Daddy was back in Iraq, so what did Mommy do? We traveled to Maine to spend Christmas with my family. That was the first time my daughter was old enough to remember playing with my neice and they were only 3 days apart in age. They’ve been close since, especially this year, when they went to kindergarten together.

In 2007, we were all back together in Texas once more, but I had to head back to officer training in Georgia shortly after wards.

2008 was probably my worst Christmas. I’ve always been there. Me and the kiddos. Last year, though, was my first one away from my kids and it hit me, hard. There was a sad little tree outside our CHU (containerized housing unit) and someone had hung a few sad little decorations on it. It was as though in the middle of that crappy base, someone was determined to remember what day it was and why it was important.

But to me, diving into work and forgetting about everything at home was the way I coped. I misted up every time someone said Merry Christmas. I didn’t want to see the decorations. I didn’t want to pretend like the holiday mattered to me because without my kids, it didn’t. I know that’s not what Christmas truly is about, but for me, the real pain of missing my children was nothing compared to any notions of the reason for the season.

It hurt. A lot.

So this year, as my husband and I sneak out after the kids go to bed in order to play Santa and Mrs. Claus, I remember what last year was like and what this year is like for hundreds of thousands of families who’s loved ones are deployed during Christmas. And when I find myself getting frustrated with the crowds and the traffic, I remember what last year was like, when there were no crowds and there was no Christmas shopping.

And this year, when I’m hugging my kids and seeing their faces light up and get to hear my daughter singing in the Christmas Eve Mass, I’m going to take a deep breath and remember how lucky and how blessed I truly am. Because this year, more than most, means a lot to me.

I am home and I am grateful.