Sex With The Bookcase

The best ideas are when you take two older ideas that have nothing to do with each other, make them have sex with each other, and then build a business around the bastard, ugly child that results.

- James Altucher, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Mediocre Entrepenuers

* * * * *

Today's story riffs on Mr. Altucher's memorable quote in a slightly sideways fashion. Rather than starting with two ideas and using them to birth a new idea, my brainstorm of the day reverse engineers that thought process. I started with one thing and ended up with two....so maybe I discovered I was carrying conjoined twins and had them surgically separated them at birth?

Alas. The problem with metaphors is that sooner or later, they all break down and cease to make sense. So let's throw this one aside and get straight to the point. 

My new child is a work in process. Every morning my family wakes up 

and comes downstairs to see what I moved around on these shelves 

during the night while they slept. I am an ardent bookcase stylist, 

and I look forward to obsessing over this project for weeks to come. 

For the last three decades, a white bookcase has stood in my family room. It's been a sturdy workhorse, reinvented many times over as my family has grown. Though I must clarify that technically, it has always been two bookcases - one section about twice as wide as the other - bolted together and serving as one. 

For a reference point and a lovely trip down memory lane, flash back to the year 2012 and take a look at my family room in that day. Oh my goodness, literally everything has changed since then but the trusty white bookcase still lumbers on. 

At least, it did until last March when we pulled all the furniture out of the first floor to make way for our new wood floors. And while the bookcase was cooling its heels out in the garage for a few weeks, I made a shocking discovery. 

I liked my family room without the white bookcase

Blasphemy, I know.  

I felt horribly guilty.

This is a nice, well-constructed white laminate bookcase, much more solid and substantial than the ubiquitous IKEA pieces that have become so popular since 1989. 

And a perfect blank canvas for so many kinds of display and storage space.

I would be crazy to get rid of my white bookcase.

Wouldn't I?

For sure there will be books. Black and white books. Bookends and geometric shapes will stay, along with my mom's old oak box, candles, plants. I need a bigger piece of art on the top shelf, and more white space. This is looking a bit too cluttered for me. 

For the next four months, I deliberated.

Weighed my options.

Argued pros and cons. 

Carefully calculated.

Hemmed and hawed.

And this weekend, just when I thought I would surely go mad from my ridiculous angst, the perfect answer finally dawned on me.

I would break up the set. 

The slice of wood on the third shelf down came from a cherry tree on my husband's grandfather's farm. Today I bought a new marimo ball that's living on the top shelf, and down on the bottom right, hiding in the shadows, is a  little wicker suitcase I bought back in the 1970s. It lived with my mom for several decades and has now come back to me. All of these things will be staying on my new bookcase for sure. But exactly where? That's a good question.

^ The wider of the two sections was welcomed back into my family room, elegantly sleek and fresh to my eye, ready for a whole new look.

Love the clean, pristine presentation of my daughter's favorite dishes in her slim new bookcase. 

^ And after a quick negotiation and personal delivery service, the narrow section has moved in with my first born, and now provides outstanding storage for coffee mugs, dishes, glasses, and cookbooks in her dining room. 

What a happy ending to my existential crisis. 

After all their years together, my twins are separated and ready to begin new lives of their own. I am set free from the terror of my either/or decision and living contentedly where I belong in the land of both/and. 

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to log a few more hours on styling my new bookcase. My baby requires lots of attention. 

* * * * *

More stories about the random ideas that fuse themselves together in my head:

Sex In The Kitchen

Sex In The Workshop
Sex In The Garden
Sex In the Front Hall
Sex On The Patio
Sex With The Bookcase
Sex In the Side Yard

Sex With Plywood

Reading At The Pool

How We Learn by Benedict Carey

You know all those things you know about the best way to learn? Set a regular routine, find a quiet place, avoid interruptions and distractions, stay focused on your work, study by going over your readings and your notes, right? Wrong. Science proves that all of those practices get in the way of how our brains actually learn. If you or someone you love is in the business of being a student, you owe it to yourself to read this amazing book. 

* * * * *

My idea of a perfect poolside book does not normally include graduate level college textbooks. But the title of this volume from my daughter's Masters in Education coursework had intrigued me for months. So while packing for my recent trip to Mexico, I tucked it into my suitcase. Little did I know that my mind was about to be blown. 

As a person who teaches math to homeschooled high schoolers, I get a pretty good window into the reality of how today's teenagers study. They struggle to keep up a regular homework schedule, and flop around various places - sprawled across the couch, sitting at a table, lying on the bed as they try to get some work done. Distractions flow freely - every few minutes, their phone chimes or a sibling sets them off - and when they come across a difficult problem, they often give up and walk away for a while.

I must confess their habits pretty much mirror the way I studied at their age.

Except I didn't get phone notifications. Instead, our landline would ring and I would rocket out of my room to be the first to grab it.

Adults generally get frustrated with this behavior. We tend to talk about responsibility, dedication, focus, and finishing what you start. There's an emphasis on proper scheduling and setting of routines. It all comes down, so we say, to discipline and that includes plenty of study time for tests.

So it's a bit disconcerting for us adults to hear that the current body of research makes it crystal clear that those traditional study habits should promptly be thrown right out the window. That's a huge pivot and not one that I take lightly.

Which is why I most enthusiastically recommend that anyone who

is parenting a high school student,
will be parenting a high school student within the next ten years,
teaches students of any age, or
is just naturally curious about how we learn

READ THIS BOOK.

You will be amazed. I promise.

* * * * *

P.S. Shout out to John Saxon, author of the truly innovative math curriculum that I have used for twenty years, who intuitively incorporated some fabulous learning theory into his textbooks, and therefore got his very own two-paragraph shout out in this book starting on page 166.

* * * * *

To read more about John Saxon and my infinite respect for his educational genius, read this:

Life As A Math Teacher: My Hero

Be sure to check out the photos. 

* * * * *

Read more about what I've been reading:

Reading Afternoons

Reading Mornings

Reading Children's Books

Reading Memories

Reading Recommendations

Reading Inspiration
Reading Insights
Reading At The Pool
Reading About The Desert
Reading On Repeat
Reading Natalie Babbitt
Reading The Truth
Reading Books That Are Blue

* * * * *

Read more about what I've been reading:

Reading Afternoons

Reading Mornings

Reading Children's Books

Reading Memories

Reading Recommendations

Reading Inspiration
Reading Insights
Reading At The Pool
Reading About The Desert
Reading On Repeat
Reading Natalie Babbit
Reading The Truth
Reading Books That Are Blue
Reading Mysteries
Reading About Walking

A Simple Celebration

Welcome to the Streicher annual Fourth of July backyard bash. 

We keep it pretty simple around here.

Early in the morning, our flag makes it appearance on the front porch. Around noon, the kitchen is typically aflurry with various cooking and baking projects. Each Streicher daughter plans and delivers the dish of her choice, and we often work together. 

The schedule also allows ample time for baseball games, dog walks, and general slacking off. 

Around dinner time, the celebration shifts to the back yard. 

^ This year, the party started with a fire. And that is my department. 

True confession. I am a massive pyromaniac and I love building fires. And by fires, I mean roaring blazes that push the limits of safety and common sense. 

The bigger, the better is definitely my motto, and though this effort looks puny, I heaped on all the wood available to me and lit her up all at once. 

Not a bad effort for a small cooking fire. 

^ While I was overseeing the conflagration, my daughters filled the table with our feast:

Hot dogs and bratwurst with buns and condiments

Baked beans

Cornbread

Potato salad

Pasta salad

And an all-American homemade apple pie.

^ Then we roasted up our tube steaks...

^ ...while Gracie guarded the table. 

Just kidding. If my dog had been left alone with all that food for two seconds, she surely would have jumped up in the middle of that table, muzzle deep in one dish after the next, eating until every bite was gone or someone hauled her off the table and wrestled her into submission, whichever came first.

She's quite the enthusiastic picnicker. 

^ At some time between eating our fill of dinner and tucking into the apple pie, we savored s'mores around the campfire. Nothing says freedom to me like this kind of crunchy, gooey, melty, chocolatey, lick your fingers deliciousness.

^ As the mosquitoes gathered in the shady corners and began their assault on the sweet-blooded members of the family, we decided to finish our second desserts in the house. But before we went inside, we enjoyed the festive mini-fireworks display of sparklers. Our wands of light sizzled and smoked across the backyard as we listened to the not-so-distant bangs and booms of higher caliber explosions, and decided that the combined effect was almost as fun as one of the official fireworks shows that we had opted not to attend.

* * * * *

Our Fourth Of July celebration was pretty darn basic, that's for sure. We didn't even get around to hanging red, white, and blue decorations; feasting on our traditional saltwater taffy, or arguing over croquet. I forgot to wear my tri-cornered hat, which I purchased once on a trip to Boston and wore all the way home on the plane. My then-teenaged daughters' were definitely not impressed, and still roll their eyes when I bring it out for its usual annual appearance. I'll wear it next year for sure.

But even the simplest celebration of our country's birthday fills me with awe and gratitude for our founding fathers' insight and courage. I'm forever thankful to the brave men and women who fought for future Americans' right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. There's nothing simple about the sacrifices they made for you and me.

One Thing About Kellen

Let me tell you some things I know about my friend, Kellen.

In many ways, he's a decent and fairly ordinary guy.

He loves:

watching professional sports,

listening to music,

swimming, fishing, hanging out on his cousin's boat,

playing tennis, working out, riding bikes with his uncle,

throwing around a football or a baseball, or kicking around a soccer ball,

eating,

cooking,

Jesus,

and spending time with the people he loves,

especially his nine-year-old son. 

Kellen and I have known each other for a year and a half now, and I can tell you for a fact that he is a deep thinker and interesting conversationalist, open to examining his own life and willing to consider new possibilities. 

He's also thoughtful, considerate, and devoted to being a good friend. I can always count on him to be honest with me, and to hear my blunt questions with positive intent. He says thank you a lot, and opens doors for me. 

Kellen and I are friends. Good, solid, tried-and-true friends.

And while all those wonderful things about Kellen are 100% factual and true, there is something else you should know. 

Kellen is a heroin addict. 

For somewhere around fifteen years, he has battled many demons: 

using pretty much every street drug he can get his hands on, 

stealing from the people he loves, 

committing felonies, 

running from the police, 

destroying relationships with his loved ones, 

living a life of utter chaos.  

He's gone to rehab, experienced horrible withdrawals, sobered up, relapsed, run back to the streets, more times than he can count or even remember. 

He's been arrested, convicted of felonies, and served time in prison. 

He's told a shocking number of lies, in order to save himself from even deeper trouble. 

He's turned his life over to Jesus, then fallen away, over and over again. 

And I will tell you the honest truth. Sometimes it is hard to be Kellen's friend. It's hard to see him want to do the right thing in his life, only to struggle and fall down, time and time again. It's hard to watch him make the mistakes that addicts make, and know that I cannot fix him. It's hard to remind myself, over and over again, that he has to figure this out for himself. 

But of all the things I know about Kellen, this is the most true.

God loves him.

I have never in my life seen so many miracles fall into one person's life. 

I have no words to describe the wild twists and turns that happen in Kellen's life every week or so, that allow him to keep walking on a path toward sobriety.

I have observed countless times that when Kellen makes even a tiny effort to do the right thing, God takes his step forward and multiplies it, many times over, to bring good into Kellen's life, right when he needs it most. 

Lord knows Kellen hasn't yet reached his destination of sober living. But God seems utterly determined to remove the obstacles in his way and give him the second, third, fourth...twentieth, thirtieth, fortieth chances that he needs to keep on walking in the right direction.

And so if there is any one thing I would like you to know about my friend, Kellen, it's this:

His painful, chaotic, off-the-rails life is living proof, right before my very eyes, that 

no matter what we do wrong, 

no matter how far we fall,

no matter how many times we screw up, 

God loves us, far more than we can ever understand. 

Be You

First thing every morning, I stumble into my bathroom and reach for my toothbrush. 

It lives right next to my sink. For maximum findability.

Then I grope around for toothpaste, and I find it here, on my bathroom shelves. 

These shelves have lived through some transition lately.

For a long time, they were just random. Not messy per se, but definitely not achieving the aesthetic that my eyes deserve first thing in the morning. 

Three years ago, I went wild and radically edited them into zen perfection. 

Which greatly soothed my weary morning soul. But to be honest, under that design ethic, this prime real estate was a tad underutilized. 

Air plant | Sky Nursery.

Pink bowl | long ago at Target

An upside down Neti pot | Amazon
Burt's Bees Mama Bee Nourishing Baby Oil | Target

Vitamin E oil | Amazon

White jar | long ago at Target

Marble jar | long ago at Target

So I've experimented with adding a bit more product to the mix. 

Oh sure. I'll totally admit that when I'm picking out lotions, cleansers, and hair products, I'm highly editorial about their packaging. They either fit my color scheme or, if they are really special, sent to live in a cupboard or drawer. 

Kristen Ess Hydrating Curl Defining Cream | Target

Kristen Ess Weightless Shine Working Serum | Target

Marble jar | Thrifted

Bubblewrap | Glossier

Milky Jelly Cleanser | Glossier

Priming Moisturizer Rich | Glossier

And lately, I realized that my current collection of bottles, jars, and tubes plays up a handful of neutrals with a pretty shade of pink. Thanks, Glossier. You make my shelves look gorgeous.  

But as I happily sorted and straightened, I felt like something was missing. Something that would pop open my eyes every morning, and elevate my day to a higher trajectory. 

And in an instant, a vision popped into my brain. 

Hello Activated Charcoal Whitening Toothpaste | Target

Burt's Bees Milk And Honey Body Lotion | Target

Sally Hansen Nail Treatment Vitamin E Nail And Cuticle Oil | Target

A frame from the thrift store, spray-painted white.

A picture-perfect shade of pink - culled from my extensive collection of pink acrylic paint - across a piece of watercolor paper.

Hand-cut letters from the same watercolor paper, glued into place. 

Now, in the mornings, as I stand in my bathroom, toothbrush in hand, and turn to reach for my toothpaste, this message fills my eyes and lifts me up with light and loveliness.

Be you, Gracie. As if you could ever be anyone else. 

And then, brushing my teeth all the while, I step back into my bedroom to greet my dog and remind her too, to just be you. 

* * * * *

Here's a link to the story about how I restyled my bathroom shelves last time:

Twenty Years

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I rarely display word art in my home, but when I do, it's always homemade. Check out these stories about my other word art projects:

Organization Upgrades: Kitchen Pantry Edition

Sex In The Front Hall

Birthday Adventures: Little Cranberry Lake And Mount Erie

Once upon a time, when my daughters were young, birthdays were all about the parties. Plans sprung forth from the pages of Family Fun or American Girl magazines - water sprinkler games! bear claw cupcakes! handmade piñatas! tie dye crafts! - and with a round-up of eight or ten other little girls, we had some pretty good times. Of course, I could bet the ranch that the birthday girl would be in tears at some point during the day. All of the anticipation and emotion was just too much for any reasonable child to bear. But there was joy in the chaos, and I happily planned and presided over my daughters' birthday parties for many years until finally, my daughters decided enough.

Now the birthday tradition tables have turned, and my adult daughters have perfected the art of the birthday adventure. On any given Streicher birthday afternoon, you will find us traveling, touring, inspecting, and exploring the world, according to an itinerary set by the birthday girl. And this, too, is a joyful way to spend these special days. 

* * * * *

Ready for another time-honored birthday adventure? This time, it's my third-born's special day. And since this is her first birthday back in the States since the birthday adventure tradition began, she chose her outing carefully.

Her decision? A hike around Little Cranberry Lake, at the foot of Mount Erie, just outside of Anacortes. And so, with my fourth-born and ever-faithful dog, Gracie, we set off in search of adventure. 

^ Our first objective was to traverse the length of Big Beaver Pond, which turned out to be afloat in skunk cabbage, water lilies, and other water-dwelling wonders. As we came round the first corner, expecting to see blue water but finding instead this low, flat jungle of greenery, our minds were blown. 

^ Gracie, however, did not skip a beat. She plunged into the water here and there along the gently winding trail, favoring her habit of lying down in the shallows to properly lap up a drink and cool her belly at the same time. Such an efficient lady. 

^ Once we came to the south end of Little Cranberry Lake, the scenery smooths out into what we were expecting: Beautiful blue water, still and serene, perfectly reflecting the surrounding fir forest. In all the best ways, we felt utterly alone in a pristine wilderness, many miles removed from civilization. Truth be told, we were a mere few flaps of the crow's wings from town though we never could have guessed. 

^ While the lake was smooth, the trail was not. Massive slabs of the area's signature diorite rock form the hillside around the lake, and while the path hugs the shoreline, the heaps of stone tumble all the way to water's edge and force us to climb up and down, up and down, scrambling our way along the rocky undulations. Though the challenge wasn't anything that an energetic five-year-old couldn't handle, I was slightly put off by all the unexpected work. Luckily, the sight of my enthusiastic dog bouncing up and down the boulders kept me happily entertained.

Gracie posed happily for photos on rocky outcroppings, and steered clear of the water's edge. The bank was a bit too stony and steep, I suspect, and I admired her discernment. 

^ The northern end of the lake affords a gorgeous view back through the trees to the water. 

 ^ And this bridge marks the turning point, where the trail bends south again and back towards where we came. I love a hike with a good destination, and this one satisfied my soul.

 * * * * *

^ As much as I enjoyed our hike around Little Cranberry Lake, I must say that the highlight of the day came a bit earlier. Before landing at the trail head, we took a quick cruise up to the top of nearby Mount Erie to scramble around on the iconic diorite rock formations and soak up the breathtaking view. Our hike was lovely, but the heart-pounding vistas from this unique little mountain gave our birthday adventure the jolt of glory and wonder that such an outing deserves. 

^ And I must say, Gracie wholeheartedly agreed.

Skin Is In

Some of my favorite Glossier skin care products just also happen to be adorably cute. 

I learned about Glossier first from my daughters.

A few years ago, shipping boxes with cute graphics began to show up at my front door, first in a trickle, then a flurry, and finally an almost daily onslaught. 

As the boxes were unpacked, I caught glimpses of glossy pink cardboard interiors imprinted sweet slogans, and adorable pink bubble wrap envelopes filled with a mysterious array of sleek tubes, jars, and bottles. 

I was, in a word, intrigued.

But my beauty products have traditionally come from the aisles of Target, and I never considered spending money on a bougie online beauty brand built for users far younger than me.

* * * * *

Then, when I was vacationing in Chicago last fall, I went to a Glossier store.

A pop-up store, to be precise. A millennial marking plan for a millennial product line, and I was definitely the only boomer in the building as I browsed about the gleaming display stands. I read the marketing copy that describes how Glossier makes products 

that focus on skin care first and makeup second,

that are clean, simple, and fun to use, 

that are designed to elevate rather than obfuscate a woman's natural beauty.

Hmm, those values resonate with me. I was still feeling a bit self-conscious about my generational status, but I decided to buy a couple things - Milky Jelly Cleanser and Body Hero body lotion- much as I would shop for any souvenir on a trip out of town. Just going with the flow, right?

Well. I came home. I cleansed my face and used the lotion. And you know what? I really liked my Glossier products. They were at least as good, if not better than what I was buying at Target, and not necessarily all that much more expensive. And I was surprised by how good my skin felt when I used them. 

* * * * *

So this summer, when Glossier popped up here in Seattle, and of course, my daughters and I stopped by to shop, I sprung into action.

I grabbed some more of that Body Hero lotion.

And some sunscreen for my face.

And a moisturizer, mascara, brow mascara, blush.

A little something called Bubble Wrap that plumps up sensitive skin.

And of course some Balm Dotcom, a skin salve that comes in seven different flavors.

I chose the rose.

I've been using them all for about a month and now I know for sure. Glossier gets me. And my skin has never looked better. 

* * * * *

On my second visit to the Seattle store, I was waiting in line to enter the store with the usual group of millennial women when we were joined by a pack of school girls. I mean teenage girls literally wearing school uniforms. 

Pleated plaid skirts. I kid you not.

And in that moment, I felt as self-conscious and out of place as a triceratops. 

I was planning my hasty retreat back to Target where I would fill a shopping cart with Noxzema, Jergens, and Oil of Olay when I got to the front of the line. The college-age Glossier girl in her standard pink jumpsuit took one look at me, and beamed. "Oh, you were here before! I remember your amazing skin. What are you looking for today?"

I decided to stay.

There's no doubt that I'm an extreme outlier of the Glossier demographic. 

By quite a few decades, 

But I don't care. 

At Glossier, skin is in, and I will never be too old for that. 

* * * * *

Want to read about all my Glossier adventures 

and see more pics of their adorable stores? Try these:

Beauty's Where You Find It

Skin Is In

Birthday Adventures

Chicago: Glossier Pop-Up