“Have you ever tasted dew from a flower?” I told him. “It’s sweet. Not too late, but early in the morning. Dew tends to taste different after the sun has been out for a while…”
This quote has nothing to do with this post. But it was so deliciously cheesy that I had to share it, so that you, too, could have a laugh. I uttered those exact lines as Jacob and I drove to the hardware store to get filters for our furnace. He was pointing out the fact that we hadn’t been drinking enough water, and I, of course, wanted to create excuses for my hatred of the tasteless (but vital) liquid. My latest pretext? No water tastes as yummy as the rainwater that blessed my mouth, and the Dominican Republic soil, when I was a child.
Anyhoo, today’s post is not as sweet as Caribbean flower dew, but I think you might still enjoy the taste of the word-droplets ;-) So… have you ever found yourself wishing that others (primarily those who you care about) could just accept your ways, trust your judgment, and let you be?
Yesterday, one of my oldest friends called his sister and asked her to have a talk with me. He told her that I was “going through some kind of life crisis,” and probably needed more than one person to point out the error of my ways and nudge me towards the right direction—he has done quite a bit of nudging these last couple of months.
Everything started about six months ago when I rejected a job offer. The pay was, well… a lot. I said no because the company sells products and opinions I don’t care for. Oh, and one of their “requirements” (which, by the way, only applied to dearie witchy me) said that I had to “do something about [my] blog” and maybe “be less vocal about [my] spiritual beliefs as [my] views might make some of [the company’s] benefactors uncomfortable.” Can you really know me for more than 13 minutes and wonder why I didn’t take the job?
My friend’s oh-my!-Magaly-is-going-through-a-life-crisis feelings seem to have increased after he found out that Jacob and I will be upcycling, junking, thrifting, and pretty much trying our best to restore our home without buying anything new. Even typing this post sends me over the moon with happiness. Thinking about the process makes me smile… but it made my friend think that we were doing it just because we don’t have any money to spend. And we don’t have a lot of money. Just enough to get by and be as happy as we like ;-)
However, our upcycling dream involves a lot more than just saving money. Here are the first 13 reasons I can think of, in no particular order:
1. Jacob and I like the idea of reducing the waste littering the Earth Mother
2. Turning “garbage” into greatness is freaking awesome
3. We want to see each other’s touch all over our home
4. I love hammers, sharp things, and a tall boy who recycles well
5. Jacob can do just about anything with the right tool
6. He looks delicious holding a big hammer
7. …and drilling things—with a drill, not a hammer ;-)
8. Nothing will ever taste better than food shared on a table restored by our loving hands
9. I can hardly wait to write the stories told by the things other people throw away
10 I LOVE staring at my guy while he is all sweaty and working hard on something for me
11. Jacob LOVES to watch me dance and sing as my OCD
reorganizes and decorates
12. We LOVE the idea of working for, and with, ourselves—more on this later ;-)
13. Our spirits feed on the pleasure of spending time together; creating, laughing, making love
whenever and wherever, and building dreams into realities we can touch, taste, love… and
others can witness.
I explained these things to my friend’s sister. She was all giggles just hearing about it. She is so excited that she wants to give us something for the house. Several people have done that already (Soon, I will write about the things we’ve received these last few days: a lovely fridge, $500.13 to go towards a washer, some retro chairs, shelves from a public library…) the point is that most people get jovial when they hear about our plans, and want to be part of it. Because of the latter, I told my friend’s sister, “I’m pretty sure he just doesn’t understand what it is we are trying to do.”
She said, “He can’t be that thick, love.”
“Oh yes, honey,” I said, “you grew up with your brother, but I spent most of his adult life working with him. He is that thick when it comes to money and living grand.”
I feel bad for him; for I love my friend and it hurts to know that he can’t see—or enjoy—my happiness. But it doesn’t hurt for long. The truth is that these days, with Jacob by my side, nothing can hurt me for any significant amount of time.
I get to see this from my backyard. What’s not to love?