They were my kinfolk, my people - many of whom I'm still friends with today, though we've scattered across the country, spilling out in different directions as fast as we could once we'd tossed our graduation caps in the air.
Going to my First Indy 500
When I think Indy, I have to admit that I am much more prone to think of
Dr. Henry Walton Jones Jr. or a movie or music project without the backing
of a st...
2 months ago
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
A place for gloves
It had been quite the winter already. Because of gloves, it was quickly becoming the winter of my discontent. Gloves are a many splendored thing, and extremely useful in the frigid climes of northwest suburban Chicago. The problem we were having is that we could never find both gloves in a pair when it was time to leave the house. At the beginning of the winter, I went and bought replacement gloves for all our family members. But, by the end of one week, instead of having 10 pairs of gloves,we had2 or 3 pairs and 7 or 8 single gloves. I was right about to teach my kids the answer to the Zen proverb: What is the sound of one hand freezing?, when I found something that works for me, a place for gloves.
The truth is, we had a place for gloves: in a laundry basket in our mud room/play room, where we keep the rest of our winter gear. The problem was that most of the gloves in the basket were missing partners. So, we would have to spend extra time looking for matches, or go out (gasp!) unmatched.
What I began to do is this: The next time the kids cleaned the playroom, I had them put only matched gloves in the basket. I got a cloth bag and filled it with the orphans and hung it up. As I cleaned out the car and rooms in our house I would find missing gloves. I checked to see if the gloves had a match in the orphan bag. If they did, the reunited pair went in the winter basket; if they didn't, they joined the orphans. Once a week I have the kids straighten up the playroom and put all the gloves in their right place.
Since implementing the system, the glove couples vastly outnumber Gloves without Partners. My discontent is at an all time low, and leaving the house is much less chaotic. If the Herculean winter proves mortal after all, (It's a line from a poem, I wrote, and allusions to my work had previously eluded me) I will put the matched gloves in a basket in the garage and keep the orphan bag through the warmer seasons, just in case the prodigals come wandering back into our lives. When we winterize the house next year, we will start anew with matched gloves only.
That's how I solved my glove/hate relationship with winter hand wear. To see what Works for others go to the Works for me Wednesday site at We are that Family by clicking here.