one thousand less

quick

2011-11-30T10:03:00.000-08:00

We left the house last week, and drove West. After twenty hours in the car--which should have been twelve, but in our post-escape delerium, required about four stops to sleep and pee, both roadside--we arrived in Las Vegas. A Lion King and several buffets later, and we were back in the car. I love the drive from Vegas to California. It feels like Martian terrain, so otherworldly. And that's how this whole thing feels, like exploring something so foreign, it takes another planet to really place it.

Now we are in LA, getting our bearings (great family and fantastic vegan food definitely helps with this) and sorting out the details of what our lives look like now. Everything feels super unsteady, but we are oddly calm, and holding tight to what we're sure of. It's good.

srsly? floppy disks?

2011-11-16T08:10:00.000-08:00

Here they are, in all their 1.44 MB glory. I've been carting these disks around for nearly a decade. It is time for them to go.

And, a giveaway!

In honor of our transfer out of computer hardware antiquing (and because we don't want another thing), we're giving away a USB floppy disk drive. If you want to transfer your outmoded disks onto a modern day computer, leave a comment and tell us what you might have on your old floppies. We'll pick a winner at random from all comments made before Friday at noon MST.

Want to pay it forward and stay free of extra stuff? Consider passing on the drive when you're finished with it. We can start the passing of floppy drives, like a chain letter. Without the janky promises of bad luck.

Total: 37

Total to date: 2345

exponentiality

2011-11-11T21:31:00.000-08:00

Next week, our house goes on the market and we travel and spend time with family until it sells.

It is astonishing how quickly it happens, the exponential nature of things. We began losing things in January, and it took ten months to reach one thousand. By eleven months, it was two thousand. Three weeks after that, and we're well on the way to three.

It's like an avalanche, growing and gaining speed the further it goes.

But it's not just losing things. We decided to sell our home only recently, and suddenly it's on the market. We wanted more of family, and we'll be saturated soon. And movement, too; we're already planning the first trip. Once things start moving, they really start moving.

We are feeling the rumbling, the unsteadiness beneath our feet. And realizing it's pretty useless to try and grab anything, futile to clench our bodies and brace ourselves. So we're relaxing into the chaos, and getting ready to slide.

This week: 26 books (to the lending library), and 17 items of clothing.

Total: 43

Total to date: 2308

sentimentality

2011-10-26T19:18:00.000-07:00

I went through all of my love letters, photos, cards, and a wedding planning scrapbook, and pared it down, drastically. I'm so grateful for all of the stages and bits of my life, and happy to remember them, but I don't need tangible reminders of everything. And all my sentimental stuff is about to fit into one smallish storage box.

12 photo rolls
It was really about 400+ individual photos, but I'm putting them into groups of 36 each, and just making it an even 12

25 miscellaneous sentimental bits

and also, 74 theology books
I waited to donate these until I knew they would really be put to good use. They represented the whole of my seminary education, and went to a local church working to establish a library for theological discourse. I'm so glad!

Total: 111

Total to date: 2265

2011-10-25T12:26:00.000-07:00

This is an update on the hopes and plans of our family. For a more detailed account of what brought us here, read the long version.

The past year has been incredible for us, and full of change. It started with a desire to live more mindfully, and expanded into everything else. As the months went on, we decided we wanted even more simplicity, more freedom, and more generosity with our family and others. We began working toward that, and in the next few months, we'll begin to see it realized more fully.

We've decided to give away nearly everything we own, sell our home, and do what we love.

We list our home for sale in the next month, at which time we'll set off for California. We hope to spend several months with family, after which we'll be nomadic for an indefinite stretch. In January, we leave for our first trip, and hope to be in Thailand, Japan, and South America over the next two years. In between, we want to honor our families and spend as much time with them as possible.

This decision is both peaceful and exhilarating. It gives us joy every time we think of it.

But it's bittersweet, too. We had become certified as foster parents, and had hoped to welcome children into our home. This is is a hope we are setting aside for at least the next year. Our home has been completely renovated, and is now very close to perfect. We'll miss it. Ron stepped down from his job for a role with less responsibility and more freedom, and I'll be doing far less of the cooking that's such a big part of my life. We are invested in our community, and we love our friends. It will hurt to leave them. And I would be dishonest if I said that getting rid of everything is easy; it isn't, not at all. But when we consider a chance to love our families more tangibly, to embrace the world in freedom, and to give more, the sacrifices make sense.

We're not sure what it will look like, but we're really, really excited. Thanks for reading our story and being a part of our journey.

(the long version)

2011-10-25T12:20:00.000-07:00

A year ago, our family embraced a piece of scripture that is changing our life.

Isaiah 58 says

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.
The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.
Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.

“If you keep your feet from breaking the Sabbath
and from doing as you please on my holy day,
if you call the Sabbath a delight
and the LORD’s holy day honorable,
and if you honor it by not going your own way
and not doing as you please or speaking idle words,
then you will find your joy in the LORD,
and I will cause you to ride in triumph on the heights of the land
and to feast on the inheritance of your father Jacob.”
For the mouth of the LORD has spoken.

We held it close, and wrote it over and over. We talked about it at dinner and argued it over coffee. It began to seep into everything we did. And one day, the idea of living in a huge home while others had none, or letting a snowboard sit unused in the basement when its worth could feed a family for a month, it began to seem very ridiculous. We didn't need so much, and wanted to give our excess to the hungry, the poor, and the oppressed, rather than maintaining our stuff and supporting a lifestyle we didn't really care for.

In January, we decided to "lose" a thousand things, and one thousand less was born. (In September, we reached one thousand things. By October, it was up to two thousand.)

A few months later, someone I deeply admire gave me The Dangerous Act of Loving Your Neighbor by Mark Labberton. Labberton views the crevasse between spirituality and social change as a failure of the human heart. We are not moved to justice because our hearts are sick; we don't care enough to do anything because we don't grasp the fullness and depth of Jesus. These sentences are not doing it justice, but this book has been like a hand on my shoulder, leading me around toward what is right and true and good.

We decided we needed to re-orient our lives, but we weren't sure what it would look like.

We considered downsizing in our same neighborhood, which we love. We thought about buying tiny places in both Denver and Los Angeles. We looked at acreage in San Diego county to build a commune for our extended family. We talked, read, prayed.

(I am deeply grateful for the grace in this, because just before taking Isaiah 58 as our family verse and doing one thousand less, we were about to sell our home and purchase this, a 2,300 square foot monstrosity in a planned community. It would have been very nice, but probably not very fulfilling. Only a technicality with our current home kept us from moving forward.)

As the months ticked by, we felt a strange sense of disquiet, of electricity, that we were both moving toward what was right, but squirming in the present reality that wasn't quite there. Once you identify what you want, living apart from it gets less and less comfortable. We weren't sure exactly what we were moving toward, we just kept trying to be faithful, and kept going.

Then one day, in the Smoky mountains of North Carolina, where our family nestled together after several states of travel, it happened. Ron was in the pool, splashing with the children, and shouted across the water, "What if we just stayed close to family and traveled for awhile? Like, indefinitely."

"Really...?" I called back, too excited at the prospect to say anything else.

"Why not?" And all of the reasons not to suddenly seemed very insignificant. It echoed everything we value, and resonated with us very deeply. It allowed us to be more generous, to invest more deeply in family, and to raise our children in the rhythm we had always wanted. And besides, Ron reminded me, we were all really good travelers.

Over the next few months, we decided to give away nearly everything we owned, sell our home, and do what we love.

We list our home for sale in the next month, at which time we'll set off for California. We hope to spend several months with family, after which we'll be nomadic for an indefinite stretch. In January, we leave for our first trip, and hope to be in Thailand, Japan, and South America over the next two years. In between, we want to honor our families and spend as much time with them as possible.

This decision is both peaceful and exhilarating. It gives us joy every time we think of it.

But it's bittersweet, too. We had become certified as foster parents, and had hoped to welcome children into our home. This is is a hope we are setting aside for at least the next year. Our home has been completely renovated, and is now very close to perfect. We'll miss it. Ron stepped down from his job for a role with less responsibility and more freedom, and I'll be doing far less of the cooking that's such a big part of my life. We are invested in our community, and we love our friends. It will hurt to leave them. And I would be dishonest if I said that getting rid of everything is easy; it isn't, not at all. But when we consider a chance to love our families more tangibly, to embrace the world in freedom, and to give more, the sacrifices make sense.

We're not sure what it will look like, but we're really, really excited. Thanks for reading our story and being a part of our journey.

flowers for ballerinas

2011-10-21T18:30:00.000-07:00

I had these lovely vintage milk glass vases, which I really loved, but didn't need. After failed attempts to sell them, and no desire to donate them randomly, we decided to do something far better.

We let our girl pick out two dozen roses (thank you, Costco!), and filled the vases with pink buds. There are usually about six children in class, but for some reason, this week, there were twelve! We had to return home for extra vases. I had planned to hold on to a few, but--very serendipitously--they were needed. In the end, we had the perfect number: fourteen, one for each of the children, and one for each dance teacher.

And oh! The kids were so happy! We'd really thought little of it, simply a way to get rid of stuff, but the children and parents were so appreciative. Our girl had a chance to see that generosity is fun, and our home has fourteen fewer things.

Total: 14

Total to date: 2154

from the basement

2011-10-16T16:52:00.001-07:00

A month ago, our basement was truly, truly horrendous. It represented the full depravity of American consumerism: the things we purchase and abandon, having moved on to some other gear-requiring pursuit. Fortunately, we've sold many of our basement's old inhabitants. Now we're just cleaning things up.

Up from its murky depths, we pulled:

2 paintings

1 hat

5 home decor items

36 miscellaneous things

20 hangers

And also:

60 items of Ron's clothing
I am really proud of him for this, and he almost has fewer clothes than I do. Almost.

9 bar review books

4 candlesticks from Israel
I sent these to a friend of Israeli heritage who has always wanted to visit. She's happy to get them, and I'm so glad they'll still be appreciated.

Total: 137

Total to date: 2,140

treasured books

2011-10-01T14:40:00.000-07:00

I was recently reading about another family minimizing their household. They were letting everything go. Except, they said, for their "treasured books," which would be placed in a storage unit indefinitely.

Until last month, I would have referred to my books the same way. Treasured. Precious. I love books, and they remind me of studying theology in seminary, of reading Orwell and Tolstoy and Steinbeck in high school, of discovering Stephen King when I was just nine, and Joyce Carol Oates in my early twenties, being amazed that an actual flesh and blood human being could write so well.

We had several hundred books from various stages of life, and treasured all of them.

But at some point, I had to ask whether I kept all these books because I actually intended to read and re-read them, or because it allowed me to revisit these moments of literary fascination. Or to remind myself that I am, in fact, quite well read.

Or worse, to remind others.

The truth is that I did not plan to read most of them again. If I do, there are libraries. Kindles. Friends. Plenty of resources for securing and reading books. With this in mind, I let them go. Some we've sold. Others, we donated in a pretty spectacular way (see below).

The luxury of removing books from my home, in a world where many struggle for literacy, much less actually owning hundreds of books, that luxury is not lost on me. But it is an even greater luxury to have books, many books, and pack them into a storage unit for what might be years. That feels to me like the height of decadence. Academic, hipster-nerdery decadence.

41 books sold on half.com

I also donated 156 issues of Martha Stewart Living magazine and 30 issues of Ready Made. If you do the maths, it becomes apparent that this is over ten years of magazines, which I have carted around with me from California to Denver to California, and back again. I thought I might need them for reference, or because I just wanted to read through them again. That's crazy, right?

What is decidedly not crazy is what we're doing with all those books. Ron proposed the creation of a lending library at our local coffee shop. This morning, we dropped them off, along with a bookcase. The coffee shop is thrilled to have this new resource, and we're ecstatic--not an exaggeration; we were dancing around the house gathering books, and now so full of joy!--to leave a legacy for our community. Giving is good.

218 books donated to our local coffee shop

Total: 446

Total to date: 2003

2003! That's another thousand, then! Wow!

craigslist love

2011-09-26T16:54:00.000-07:00

Not that kind of love. The kind we have for craigslist, and all the lovely people we've met who are now using our stuff.

Today:

Miscellaneous
8 blinds, 2 volleyballs, some decorative stuff, tools, four large shelving units (we don't need them to hold our things anymore!), 6 yoga mats, 2 massive bookshelves, a sink, a huge mirror, a djembe.

Total: 39

Total to date: 1557

editing

2011-09-25T20:15:00.000-07:00

When a dear friend and artist offered to go through my clothes and pare things down, I immediately said yes. She had done this for several other friends, and, knowing her keen sense of style and appreciation of minimalism, I knew I was in for a treat.

She was also exactly what I needed to give up those old pieces of sentimentality that I kept but no longer wore: dresses from my pre-wedding showers or during pregnancy, or jeans that I loved but hung way too loose. One more perspective helped me sort through the usefulness of these things. And it helps, I think, to have another person suggest that it's time to let something go.

So I did.

86 items of clothing/accessories
pants, tops, dresses, skirts, shorts, three bags, two jackets, scarves and several pairs of socks.

Can I say how happy I am to have had my wardrobe edited? I opened the closet this morning and, seeing nothing superfluous, knew exactly what to wear. It's quite minimalist now, and just right (my friend actually suggests adding a few pieces).

While at it, I went through the children's closet. We "rent" their clothes from the thrift store: purchase it for a very reasonable price, use it for six or so months, and donate it back. So I was happy to do this.

41 children's items
baby hats, shoes, onesies, etc.

Total: 127

Total to date: 1518

one thousand more

2011-09-21T16:25:00.001-07:00

The experience of letting a thousand things go has been an incredible one, and completely life-changing. We always knew we didn't care for excess, that we valued people over things, all that. But this experiment in simplicity has allowed our life to become more closely aligned with our values. It's also changed a lot of our daily habits.

Here are some of the things that have shifted over the past nine months:

We stopped watching our TV, and then got rid of it.

Where we previously felt helpless, we created tangible ways to give, with bags of useful stuff to distribute to those in need.

We stopped using the microwave, hair appliances (like blow-dryers and flat-irons), and most toiletries.

Our diet became more simple, as we gradually eliminated lots of oils, grains, and spices from our pantry. (I also gave up the leisure of being able to prepare any dish, and we've gravitated more toward raw fruits and vegetables.)

We no longer randomly buy things. I can't remember the last time I went to Target, or came home with something I wasn't intentionally looking for.

Ron decided that family was his first priority, and became a mobile employee.

When this all began, I thought it would be an interesting project. We got rid of a thousand things, we felt a sense of accomplishment. Now, we're going to keep going, aiming for a thousand more things to lose.

I think we'll easily surpass that, too. At this point, we're beyond "decluttering" or "purging." This is more about how we want to live our lives than sticking to a number. We're thrilled to see this experiment expand into everyday.

Here's the post-estate sale remnants we let go last night:

Miscellany
An old corded phone, office supplies, shoes, an umbrella. Frames and an ice cream scoop. A few thumb drives and a keyboard. About 20 DVDs.

47 Christmas decorations

The best paint stripper in the world

145 Art supply itemsWe're donating old (but usable) paint, canvases, paper, and other supplies to a local children's art camp.

Total: 252

Total to date: 1412

estate sale

2011-09-19T15:58:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, we had a massive estate sale. So many things went, and it was strange and wonderful watching it all leave our home. And we're tired. We meticulously documented every thing that went in order to get an accurate count, but I'd rather avoid the monotonous task of dividing it all into categories. I'll just give the total sale number at the end.

Here we go:

Enormous flat screen TV
We used this to watch movies on, but didn't really need it after giving up TV.

DVD/CD Player, Roomba, blow dryer, curling iron
I've decided I can sweep my own floor, and don't need hair appliances anymore.

Tools
Staple gun, drill, angle grinder, leaf blower...Ron has changed his perspective on "projects" so much through this process, and so decided to sell/donate most of his tools. Impressive, because he really had a lot of them.

Housewares
Pots, a blender, kitchen utensils, knife set. A big wire rack. Loads of cake decorating equipment and pans. A Bain Marie. One of my French rolling pins. The knife from our wedding cake. The lady who purchased this looked aghast when I told her that, and insisted I not sell it. I told her it was okay.

Home decor items
Candles, vases, lighting, etc. There was a lot of this.

Souveniers from travel
Decorative boxes from Israel, wall hangings from India, paintings from Haiti, a chess set from the Philippines. I expected this to be much more difficult, but it actually felt okay seeing these special bits of our lives go. We'll be in these places again.

Free things
Chinese lanterns that hung in the trees at our wedding, and in our bedrooms in Denver and Los Angeles. Plastic containers big and small. Bowls, Martha Stewart Tupperware, over forty cords for electronics. Yard tools.

Media
Theology books, CDs, DVDs, Martha Stewart Living magazines I have carried around since the early 2000s. Vintage comic books. An iPad. An older iPhone.

Miscellany
Gold leaf. Computer stuff. Vespa helmet. Ironing board.

Total: 417

Total to date: 1160

We did it. We removed [over] one thousand things from our lives! And although I am tired and proud and very happy, I can't really wallow in exhaustion or rejoice in accomplishment.

Because we're just getting started...

miscellany

2011-08-30T14:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday and today:

6 votive candles

4 batches of flyers

7 stamps/letter writing things

13 sketch pads

1 roll ribbon

1 protractor

9 molded fondant roses/cake bits

1 camp stove

1 camelbak

6 cake supports

1 large hiking pack

1 compression sack

1 thermarest

7 notepads

And for a friend who stopped by:

4 DVDs

1 yoga mat

4 books

1 CD

Total: 65

Total to date: 743

killing our tv

2011-08-28T22:39:00.000-07:00

Two months ago, we returned our cable box, and have been tv-free since. It is awesome.

Total: 1 cable box

Total to date: 678

exhilarating!

2011-08-27T14:44:00.000-07:00

Today we lost a few more things, thanks to craigslist and my wonderful brother (in town to help us sell everything):

5 antique chairs

1 microwave
We've been microwave-free for two years, and it had been living in the basement only to heat foot warmers.

1 art projector
We had moved this back and forth several times between homes, insisting we would do lots of great projects with it. It was much more satisfying to see it go to a woman who wanted to make art with her niece. Sometimes letting something go is better than having it.

Total: 7

Total to date: 677

Positively exhilarating!

advice

2011-08-27T09:13:00.000-07:00

Do you still want to buy lots of things, in spite of knowing you don't actually want more stuff? This is what you can do:

On a Saturday morning, go to a busy local thrift shop. Drive around the back, and park next to the drop-off area. Sit and relax for a bit.

You will see all kinds of people dropping off all kinds of things. Many of them will be very nice things, things that look new and useful and perfect for some corner of your home. And many will be pure junk.

If you see something being dropped off and think, "Look at that! I could really use that!" resist the temptation to go inside, and continue sitting there, watching.

If you find yourself thinking, "That is disgusting! Why would anyone have that in their home?" realize that most of your things are only a few years from the thrift shop, and that other purchases will meet their inevitable end in a similar state.

Sit here, watching the drop offs, until the idea of filling your home with anything else is completely distasteful. If you want to buy more stuff the following weekend, return to the rear of the thrift shop, and keep watching.

It worked for us.

it's on!

2011-08-21T19:56:00.000-07:00

I was feeling a bit stuck because we were moving so slowly. And then, everything came together in a rush. We've got some wonderful, smaller-but-larger things coming up, and it feels like losing our stuff is happening more and more rapidly. It's exponential losing, and it's scary and wonderful and right.

A friend was able to use lots of my kitchen stuff, so I passed the previously "necessary" (I do a lot of cooking) things on to her--thanks Lisa!

12 ramekins

4 cake pans

10 decorating bags, cake plates, tips, etc.

16 miscellaneous kitchen items

and back to the office:

1 staple remover

1 bag of binder clips

1 package staples

1 tin paper clips

It was tempting to count every one of those last items, rather than as one bag or tin or something. But at this point, I don't think we'll have a problem losing a thousand things.

Total: 46

Total to date: 671

parenting with less

2011-08-02T12:48:00.000-07:00

Our girl, playing with homemade play dough.

"Questioning causes you to break through the hypnosis of social conditioning."
-Deepak Chopra

As we learn to live more simply, we are beginning to question everything. And the idea of less is seeping into every area of our lives, from how we spend our leisure time, to what we eat, to what kind of parents we are.

I just returned from a few weeks of traveling, and I'm repeatedly amazed at how little I truly need for my two young children. We were on the road for two weeks, but often take trips lasting only several days, or over a month. Each time, I am grateful for the opportunity to step back, consider what I really want, and ultimately choose the tools that liberate, rather then limit, my family.

As parents, we often believe we need certain things for our children. But the tools that each culture or individual chooses to use are really more varied than we imagine. We begin with the simplest thing: our children. It's a state of freedom. Every child on earth begins this way. And how we choose to parent can either continue that freedom or constrict it.

Here are some things we can consider, and reconsider, in the choices we make as parents.

With a few exceptions, we don't need to have our babies in the hospital, schedule a c-section, or have a medicated birth because a doctor believes them necessary. We can give birth at a birth center, on our living room floor, or in the woods. We can do it with a midwife, a doula, or no one at all.

We don't need to purchase expensive formulas or feeding gadgets or bottles. We can breastfeed, use donated milk, or have the lactating neighbor breastfeed our child.

We don't need loads of expensive clothing for our kids, or lots of clothing at all. Hand-me-downs can be plentiful; ask friends for their leftovers. Thrift stores are great.

We don't need a stroller, a pack and play, a musical swing, or a plastic bucket seat. Babies can be worn in a wrap or sling most of the time, and allowed to crawl freely when not carried. If we cannot hold our child, someone else probably can.

We don't need a changing table. It usually happens on a bed or the floor anyway.

We don't need baby gates, cabinet latches, edge protectors for our coffee tables, or any of the other child proofing devices that many of us embrace. We don't need to douse our children with antibacterial gel every five minutes. We can teach our children to explore responsibly, guiding them to sort out their own limits and learn from the bumps. We can show them the edge. We can remove the toxic stuff from our homes so that there's no poison to stumble upon.

We don't need tiny, cost-ineffective jars of baby food. We don't need baby food at all. We can skip purees and rice cereal entirely, instead allowing babies to feed themselves chunks of soft fruits and vegetables when they're developmentally ready.

We don't need hundreds of disposable diapers and wipes. We can use cloth diapers, or rags, or nothing at all. We can wash our babies' bums in the sink. We don't need to make a big deal of potty training, doling out rewards or disappointment accordingly. We can treat it normally, letting it happen when it does. It doesn't need to be a frustrating, emotionally invested process.

We don't need a coordinated room full of expensive children's furniture, or even a crib. Plenty of things can be found second hand, and does a baby really need an entire room to herself? Done mindfully, babies can sleep with their parents.

We don't need complicated developmental toys, expensive vacations, or indulgence in popular children's characters just because other children are into those things. The world is colorful and stimulating enough. There is fun everywhere, if you make it. And it's perfectly fine to make decisions that other parents don't choose.

I could go on, but I think you get the idea.

Of course, these things don't work for everyone. You might not want your neighbor breastfeeding your child. Okay. Buy the formula, and feel good about it. You might live in the Alaskan tundra, and that wipe warmer would really come in handy. Get it! And if your child has sensory issues or a feeding tube, obviously self-feeding isn't the way to go.

But really think: how many of our choices are based on cultural constraints or social conditioning, and how many on well-researched, intuitively consistent choices? Could there be a better way to do things, maybe one that's been around for ages if we just know where to look?

As parents, we shouldn't make decisions by defaulting to our culture, our parents' choices, or the latest parenting books. The difference between something being necessary, helpful, or limiting is very personal, and specific to each parent. Lots of things serve as helpful tools in a particular situation, and that's fine! But these tools should be viewed as such, and not as necessities.

When it comes to parenting, we have much more freedom than we think.

kids' stuff

2011-07-23T19:23:00.000-07:00

Like many homes with children, we had too much kids' stuff. Too many books, too many clothes, too many toys (and I 'm pretty spare when it comes to toys).

It felt wrong to impose a purge of stuff on a child, and I couldn't imagine just making things "disappear," so my daughter and I made an arrangement: she goes through her things, and gives what she can't use to kids who can, and we get her the balance bike she's wanted for nearly a year.

It worked wonderfully. She's seen us give things away for the past few months, so she is oriented toward generosity. Also, it helped that it was ultimately her choice, and we weren't forcing her to do anything she didn't want to. Her mindfulness encouraged me to go through my clothes again, so we have the following numbers:

Childrens' toys, books, clothes, etc.: 157

Clothing, jewelry, etc: 60

Total: 217 - 2 (new bike) + umbrella = 218

Total to date: 625

And she loves her new bike!

one red umbrella

2011-06-27T17:57:00.000-07:00

Tonight as I was eating dinner after a very long day at work, I heard a loud knocking at my door. It was very late at night, and it had been pouring rain for almost an hour. I wasn't expecting a visitor.

As I went to the door, I saw the tell tale signs of someone soliciting donations: clipboard, identification badge, and some folded up promotional material. Instantly I got upset. Here I was, exhausted, just trying to scarf down dinner with my family before the kids had to go to bed and he had to interrupt me. I had neither the time nor the patience to hear what this man had to say.

Through the screen of my front door I heard something about the elderly and homelessness. I worked for a number of years in non-profits, including a homeless shelter, so I generally do not give at my door. There are so many scammers and con-artists in this world that prey on the good intentions of others. Still, our neighborhood is home to frequent solicitations, so I sometimes write checks to well documented non-profits.

This was not the case tonight. I did the all too well known pat-my-pockets, oops-I-have-no-money dance. When he didn't budge, I rummaged through an entry way drawer and grabbed a crumpled up dollar bill. Through a crack in the door I shoved money, quickly said goodbye, and shut the door.

It was two bites into my meal that I realized what an ass I am. The man's kind face still stood at the forefront of my thoughts. He was an elderly man who appeared to have nothing but the best of intentions. Here he was walking through the rain, mostly likely trying to help others and I could not give him the decency that I would show a cursory stranger at the grocery store.

Then I realized that I could help. I didn't have any money to give at the time, but I did remember a red umbrella that I had hanging in my closet for years. It was one of those travel umbrellas and I have no idea where it had come from. I quickly ran upstairs, grabbed the umbrella from its resting place, put on a pair of shoes and ran up and down the street to find the man.

I eventually found him walking away from a house near the end of the block. He was soaked through but still persevered. I handed him the umbrella and apologized for the way I acted. He thanked me and went on his way.

I don't mention this to extol my generosity. Nor do I write this to show how flawed I am. I write this to say that in giving things away you change yourself as a person. A year ago I would have still felt very bad for how I behaved. The difference, however, is that I would feel helpless to make things better. In that stage of my life, I was limited to black and white thinking. He asked for money, I had none that I was willing to give, end of story. Now, as my world view has changed to where my things are only temporary possessions, I can think beyond what is in front of me and use what I have to meet the immediate needs of others. In that there is true freedom.

Tonight we both walked away as winners. The solicitor was able to continue his good work in reletive comfort, and I was able part with one more item. And do so in a way that, I hope, made amends for my impatient and boorish countenance.

I mean, really.

2011-05-29T15:21:00.001-07:00

Do you know what this is? Look, this:

My bag cupboard. A cupboard. Full of plastic bags. 76 of them.

I think we all have one of these. We tell ourselves we'll need them for something: to take with us shopping, or line a small trash bin. And maybe some of us do? I don't. I use cloth bags at the grocery and don't line small trash bins. So having 76 extra bags* is really just something a crazy person does.

*It was actually more than this a few weeks ago. My contractors, on opening the cupboard, were overtaken by the bags, and threw lots of them away out of necessity.

It seems like cheating to count all 76 (we don't count individual items like pieces of paper, usually). But I'm doing it anyway.

Ahhhh, much better.

Total: 76

Total to date: 407

real quick!

2011-05-17T18:30:00.000-07:00

We just blitzed through the basement, and here's what we put into boxes to donate:

1 diaper bag
I have never used a proper diaper bag.

1 can formula
Doctors offices give it away, and this one was so aggressive I didn't refuse it.

1 blonde wig
Don't ask.

14 home deco things

25 kitchen items
Including a really expensive potato ricer which I've used only once and had an unhealthy emotional attachment to, apparently.

25 office supply items

5 CDs

23 items of baby clothing

15 magazines
We gave these to our local coffee shop, which was more than happy to receive them.

3 tennis rackets
"These will be nice for when guests stay, and want to walk over to City Park and play a round of tennis." Obviously, I do not actually play tennis, or I would not be referring to it in "rounds." Anything used less than monthly can be rented, so these go.

1 hopelessly broken coffee maker

plus two big boxes full of papers and bits of trash

The crazy thing is, it doesn't seem like it even made a dent. Goodness.

Total: 114

Total to date: 331

on facebook, losing, and getting stuck

2011-05-11T09:16:00.000-07:00

One Thousand Less is on Facebook. Are you losing one thousand things too? Check out the page here to share your stories and blog links. Some of you are totally beating us in your aggressive pursuits of less, and we want to hear about it!

Check out this great post from Bea at Zero Waste Home. One of my favorite minimalist blogs, Zero Waste always inspires with its mindful approach to decluttering. And look at that living room. Gorgeously simple, right?

Our kitchen finished, we managed to take another small load to the thrift shop. 23 random items lost: clothes, mismatched drinking glasses, old CDs...

Total to date: 217

In other things, our basement--which is so hideously strewn with things I am embarrassed to show you a picture--is losing its battle with stuff. Most of it happens to be Ron's, and when he steps into the depths to grab a screwdriver or do some laundry (well, perhaps not that), he's not sure how to approach it all. He's stuck.

I suggested taking it bit by tiny bit, but where do you start? Categorizing, then eliminating? Madly throwing things, anything, into boxes to cart away? We need some help here. What do you do when you're stuck?

one kitchen less

2011-04-16T13:03:00.001-07:00

Where have we been? We're traveling in California for a month, living out of suitcases and getting very familiar with those hotel toiletries we ditched a few months ago. But we're still losing stuff. Specifically, a kitchen.

The recent state of our 115-year-old kitchen. Photo thanks to Nick Velharticky.

I don't think we can count old wainscotting or scuffed vinyl flooring among the things we're getting rid of. Still, revamping our previously inefficient kitchen is definitely a step to living more functionally and more simply. Although it was huge, the old space wasn't used properly, and lacked some things that would make our time there--and we spend a lot of time in the kitchen--more enjoyable. Here's what we're adding (each item adds 2 to our total count):

Tile backsplashes over the countertops and behind the stove.

Lighting over the sink (2) and on the wall (1). We found inexpensive fixtures from Ikea and Home Depot in California, and had them shipped to Colorado.

A small table and stools. The kitchen was always large enough to accommodate seating, but there wasn't a space for it. Moving the existing cabinets to an adjacent wall was an easy solution.

Two horizontal bars for behind the seating area. Also found at Ikea, we plan to use these to hang pots of herbs, utensils, and pot lids. I also found a very functional paper towel hanger, which won't take up space on a countertop.

A wine fridge. I know. A wine fridge. It makes me feel ridiculous and bourgeois just writing that, particularly since I drink wine only occasionally. But hear me out: there was an odd space next to the dishwasher, and we needed a solution to fill it. Cabinets would've been comparable in cost, and a wine fridge increases resale value, something we need to consider when working on our home.

I'm not too concerned about adding so much stuff, since we plan to pare down the kitchen significantly, losing all sorts of tools, gadgets, and cookbooks. Here's what we're replacing (each item gives us a zero balance, since it's a 1:1 exchange):

The refrigerator. Found on craigslist when we first moved in, our second hand fridge was full of quirks, but worked fairly well. We decided to replace two of the appliances with stainless (again, resale value).

The dishwasher. Also found on craigslist. It leaked, it jolted, but it got dishes really clean and I liked it. Also to be replaced with stainless (resale blah blah blah). We got a fantastic deal on appliances at our local Appliance Warehouse. Otherwise, the older white ones would have stayed awhile longer.

Countertops. The old laminate ones will be donated to Habitat for Humanity and replaced with quartz.

Sink and faucet. The new countertops call for an undermount sink, so the existing ones also go to Habitat.

Vinyl flooring, which was unattractive and cut up and would have off-gassed for a very long time. Sturdy, eco-certified porcelain tile was put in instead.

Original 1894 windows. I tried to save these, I really did. I tried natural paint strippers, heat guns...even an infrared paint removing machine from Europe. In the end, nothing was able to effectively remove the many layers of paint. They couldn't be painted over any more, and with children, a lead-laden thing with moving parts just wasn't safe. "What's that flake on the window, mama? It looks delicious!" Out with the lead-coated wood, in with new vinyl.

Window and door casings. Same lead issue, and we discovered that the wood underneath is only cheap pine, even more incentive to simply replace it.

We kept the old cabinets, because although they're not at all our style, they're only a few years old, and perfectly functional. My vintage oven stays, and we'll finally unearth the pot rack that's been sitting in the basement to create more practical pot storage.

If you're getting rid of appliances, there are several ways to do it. Working appliances can be sold on craigslist, offered on freecycle, or donated to a charity like Habitat for Humanity. Also consider donating to organizations that work with refugees, domestic abuse shelters, or transitional housing facilities, since these non-profits are often in need of household items.

If your appliances no longer work, or are too energy inefficient to continue living, most home improvement stores will dispose of them for free when you purchase a new product. Otherwise, several companies offer this service for a small fee. You can read more about the process here.

Items added (that's a new one): 11

Total to date = previous total - (new items x 2): 194

let's get this party started

2011-03-02T11:39:00.000-08:00

After going through our basement, I discovered a big box of party supplies. These were the castoffs from many birthday parties, dinner gatherings, and other miscellaneous events. Square plates from my daughter’s frog-themed birthday party, cocktail napkins with a printed cornucopia on them, and a Costco sized box of forks large enough to host a Mad Men themed party for a Naval base. Too few, too dated, or just too many to use, these party supplies were in deep storage in our basement. Thankfully, our church provided a way out. This past Sunday was our church’s annual chili cookoff. This event helped us get rid of more stuff.

It was a great feeling to see everything being put to use. Joy and I had a great time walking around and pointing out where the items have gone. “Look, that guy is eating chili out of one of our coffee cups!”

So how do you count a 500 piece box of forks? It seems that counting all 500 would be cheating. Two obscenely large boxes of cutlery from Costco would get us through this entire challenge. Instead I decided to count each type of item. Overall, 12 types of party ware was donated that day.

Total: 12

Total to date: 228

quick bits

2011-02-20T17:59:00.001-08:00

Today:

6 more items of clothing

16 pieces of jewelry, including some sentimental stuff

1 jewelry box

Total: 23
Total to date: 216

Last weekend, we went down to the basement and began putting things into boxes, rapidly and with abandon, letting so much go. I'm not sure what the numbers are on that stuff, but we'll post about it soon. We are getting faster at losing things, and this means less photos of stuff (which are boring, and just glorify things anyway), and quicker bursts of posting.

Oh, the luxury of even having this much to give away! It is ridiculous.

The funny thing is, we consider ourselves pretty simple people, people who don't have much stuff to lose. But short of the folks on Hoarders (gross, right?), or families on Clean House (don't you love Niecy Nash? I'll miss her.), I am beginning to believe most people don't think they have that much stuff, either. But we do. We all do. And we don't need it.

Giving things away is addictive. You start gingerly, believing you will be thoughtful and careful, a meditation. And then the criteria shifts, from What don't I need anymore? to What do I really need?

And then you begin to laugh maniacally, and hurl things into bags and boxes, and think about maybe living in South America for three months. Losing is like a drug, and can make you think crazy things.

But I am beginning to believe the crazy things are the good ones. We just don't tend, in everyday life, to have room for them. Without so much stuff, they are everywhere.

in the bathroom

2011-01-31T06:49:00.000-08:00

I am pretty minimalist when it comes to toiletries. I make most of my own body products, have one kind of soap, and skip the deodorant. My morning routine takes about five minutes. I don't even use shampoo on my hair.

So I was particularly horrified to discover how much stuff I have collected in the bathroom. We just renovated these rooms, so much of it was in boxes and bags, sitting in the linen closet while the still empty medicine cabinet awaits a new coat of paint.

Here's what I lost:

3 bottles perfume
I don't wear conventional perfumes anymore. They seem overpowering and synthetic, and with small children and infants, you want as little as possible between you and how your kids experience you. If I want some scent, I'll use natural oils like rose or cedarwood, or a bit of solid perfume. I still have three bottles left, from Ron, sentimental, but I hope I can let those go soon as well.

3 containers natural toothpaste
Since I like DIY beauty stuff, I decided to try my hand at toothpaste. Made of baking soda, vegetable glycerine, peppermint oil, and stevia, it has a slight brininess and is the perfect texture to get teeth clean and bright. Unfortunately, I decided to stop using toothpaste shortly after (I use a drop of Dr. Bronner's soap, plain baking soda, or diluted peroxide instead), and am left with enough to last for months. Would anyone like this?

12 old makeup items
I just don't use these anymore, and it feels terribly wasteful. What do you do with a used eyelash curler? Or an almost-full compact of powder that doesn't suit your skintone? They can't be donated, and can't be recycled. I once decided to use them for art projects for my daughter, but she used them so gingerly that it would take ages for them to actually be used. Any ideas?

4 polishes, 1 remover
I love getting my nails done, but I hate the jumble of products required to make it happen. Every time I get a manicure, a bottle of polish is included, and I just don't need all that stuff. So I've decided to keep my nails bare, buffed, and moisturized with coconut oil instead. I'm going to miss painting my daughter's nails, but I think a three-year-old can go au naturel, too.

The positive bit is that, now that I know exactly what I like, I won't be buying any more wasted products.

9 health/medicine products
Among them: neosporin without a cap. Miscellaneous vitamins. Cough drops with honey (I don't eat honey, or need cough drops). What do you do wih things like this? Toss them?

I had swine flu two years ago and took antibiotics to prevent a lung infection. I don't know why I bothered to pick up the accompanying inhaler and cough syrup, since they didn't get used. It feels so wasteful. Pharmacies can take leftover perscription meds, but it's tempting to just dump them down the drain (not a good idea; meds get into the water table and do crazy stuff).

A few months ago, I bought my daughter oscillococcinum. I am not great with sick kids (who, thankfully, I've only dealt with on two occasions), and in my haste didn't think to check what it was made of. It turns out oscillococcinum contains duck livers. We're vegan, so I won't be using it. Any takers? mmmmm, duck liver.

I also purchased shepherd's purse, an herb which prevents hemorrhage, for the homebirth of my son. It arrived after he did, so I have the unopened bottle. Any pregnant homebirthing mamas who would like this?

22 travel size toiletries
We travel a lot. I rarely use the travel-sized toiletries offered by hotels, but I do take them to offer guests who stay in our home. But I've found that people generally bring their own, or simply use the large sizes of units we have, and I usually find them unopened in our guests' rooms.

I also live in a city with a large homeless population. People stand on corners, holding a sign, which you can ignore by positioning the windshield of your car just so, or you can smile, or feebly offer a few dollars. Any of those choices leaves me feeling disempowered and helpless. Our family does a fair amount of giving and is no stranger to the homeless, and that makes my helplessness even more frustrating.

Then someone at our church mentioned keeping oranges, socks, and toothbrushes in his car to offer to those in need. It seemed so easy, and so necessary.

So I bought a 10-pack of socks (not counted toward our total), and toothbrushes, and packaged them in zippered plastic bags with hotel toiletries and disposable razors. They'll go in the car, along with oranges. Simple.

18 miscellaneous items (to be discarded)

4 full-size conditioners/soaps
With parabens or anti-bacterial chemicals, which I try to avoid. Homeless shelters and some thrift stores usually accept these.

1 curling iron

What I'm keeping: bulk products for making body products (bath salts, clays, oils). Mineral makeup. A few makeup brushes, one hair brush, a dry skin brush. Small containers for carrying coconut oil and baking soda, my all-purpose travel cosmetics. Lady products. Fake eyelashes and adhesive. One powdered eyeliner. One mascara. A few lip balms and lipsticks. Homemade bars of soap. Several pairs of scissors (I usually cut my own hair), and razors, because I don't think I'll ever be so simple as to stop shaving my legs. A blow dryer and flat iron, which I seldom use and will probably give up soon. My neti pot.

Listing all this makes me responsible for it, and with the accountability I realize I can probably do without many of those things.

But that's it. Everyhing fits neatly in a shoebox-sized container or on the vanity tray on my bedroom dresser, and can be tossed into a travel bag with little deliberation. And that is a very, very good feeling.

Total: 77
Total to date: 193

Ron's Clothes Purge

2011-01-24T19:16:00.000-08:00

Clothes are an easy place to start. Like most people, I have more clothes than I can use. If I were creative enough, I’m certain that I could last a month without doing laundry and not wear the same thing twice. Granted, that 30th outfit would probably consist of a mesh tank top, board shorts doubling as underwear, and ripped pajama pants. Ugly yes, but still enough to keep me from getting arrested if I were out in public.That’s what makes giving away clothes so easy. I could give away half my wardrobe and I’m still at no risk of indecent exposure. Now, ask me to give away something I have just one of, say my chop saw, and I would bust through a wall like the Kool-Aid Man to stop it.

My purge consisted of:

10 Pants
Among these ten is a white pair of Dockers that I never even took out of the package. I’m sure at the time I bought them I had high hopes P-Diddy would spontaneously invite me to one of his famous white parties. Casually I would work into the conversation that I had a pair of flat front Dockers that would be perfect for his little get together.

12 T-Shirts
Included in these 12 are such novelty greats as “Mallwalkers” and “Look Better Naked” a sleeveless T-Shirt that I always felt too fat to ever wear. After two kids, a mortgage, and my first grey hair, novelty shirts are a whole less novel than when I was in my twenties.

5 Button-Up Shirts
The black shirt will be the hardest to get rid of. That was my default metro-sexual shirt. It was jet black with crazy long lapels. That shirt and a grey suit and I was ready for a night on the town. Then Twilight hit and the shirt went from looking cool to looking vampire. Once any article of clothing goes vampire, it's time for it to go.

10 Underwear; 9 Pairs of Socks
Many are probably thinking, “Yuck, used socks and underwear, who would want that?” My first job out of college was working at a homeless shelter in downtown L.A. While we would get truckloads of clothes each week, we never had enough undergarments. It’s easy to think that used undergarments are undesirable, that is until you’ve had do go without a clean pair for over a week.

3 Sweaters
A grey vest that never fit, a grey sweater that always looked purple, and a green hoodie that some repair guy left in my basement. Life changing stories indeed.

3 Pairs of Shoes
The black pair of shoes takes 2nd place for item I’ve had the longest. I got those during my senior year of college. They’ve been through numerous job interviews, graduations, funerals, and formal dinners. After being resoled twice, they are finally in terminal condition. Since they are completely leather, they will be going into the compost where they can be broken down and reused once again.

2 Ties
First place for longest time in my possession goes to the white and green tie. During the monumental event of my Elementary School graduation, I donned that tie along with an all-white suit and green shirt. It was the 80’s and I looked damn good.

1 Hat
Apparently I have a large-ish sized head. That hat never really fit me no matter how hard I tried.

Today’s Total: 55
Total To Date: 116

Round One

2011-01-16T16:17:00.000-08:00

My already minimalist closet. It is amazing what I was able to cull from here.

It's odd to begin with clothes, since they seem like such an intimate thing. A lot of memories--of travel, or cold winters, or of leaving for your honeymoon--are wrapped in garments. Clothes are terribly personal, and it feels weird to explain why I let certain things go: It made my butt look big, and I realized that polka dots remind me of my ex-boyfriend. I'm not really fond of explaining those private bits.

Also, this part will make me sound terribly nostalgic, terribly attached to things, which I'd like to believe I'm distinctly not. So please forgive me if I wax sentimental over culottes, or mourn a pair of undeniably nasty shoes; it's not like me. Really.

Today, I relieved our house of the following:

4 bath towels
These were the first towels we owned as a married couple, and I later used them for cleanup after the birth of my son. This turned out to be a good thing, because we had a waterbirth, and the return pipe of our tub overflowed and flooded the bathroom while I was in labor. The towels saved the day, and I was able to remain in the tub for another ten hours until my son arrived.

I sort of feel gross donating these. But then, people who purchase old towels from goodwill probably don't care much where they've been.

Left, boots that say "f#$% me." Right, a boot that says, "Never touch me again."

1 pair black leather boots
These boots look wicked and sexy. They add four inches of height, and give the figure such a nice line. But as one of the last vestiges of my pre-vegan life, these boots have faced their inevitable departure for nearly six years (as long as I've abstained from purchasing animal products). I've been waiting for them to wear out, and have had them re-soled twice. But wearing leather still bothers me, even if it's well used. And now I have two pairs of these, which are much more practical, and vegan to boot. (Boot! Get it? Okay, that is the last pun you will see on this blog, I promise.)

So I simply don't need these shoes anymore. It's been over ten years of really good wear, and I'm happy to send them on.

1 orthopedic boot
I broke my toe last year (two years ago?), and had to wear this for 8 weeks. I do not anticipate doing it again.

6 pairs other shoes (+ 1 single shoe; I don't know how this happened)
Among them: hiking boots (I wear light sandals or trainers when hiking), ballet flats, 3 pairs flip flops, and trainers. I got the latter ten years ago, when my father ordered his Sauconys too small, and passed them on to me. I don't really wear them any more--there is no way I would keep such a bare-treaded pair--but I think of my Dad every time I see them sitting in the closet.

Goodness. Talking about it, you would think my Dad had died, and giving me his ill-fitting shoes was his final act. But no, he is alive and well, living in Southern California, where he skypes and visits us regularly. I have numerous pictures and memories and thoughtful notes taped to articles that he sends us. I think I can let the shoes go.

I kept these Reefs because they are great beach shoes. I live in Colorado.
The label on the busted sandals, right, reads "Self Esteem." I think the irony is pretty clear.

1 pair pajamas

2 workout sets (1 top and 1 bottom each)
One of these features capris, which are generally unflattering on most figures, and certainly on mine. One of my rules is not to keep unflattering things. So the capri set goes.

5 maternity smocks
I do not plan to be pregnant again, a decision I'm perfectly happy with. But the finality of giving away your maternity clothes still has a little sting to it.

3 nursing bras/tops
I'm breastfeeding a 3-month-old, but am now finding nursing tops cumbersome and unnecessary. My regular clothes do just fine.

5 sweaters

5 pairs of pants
Including two pairs of white jeans. Two. No matter the occasion, no matter how fantastically shapely I become, I cannot imagine wearing white pants. I do not live in the Hamptons.

17 tanks, athletic shirts, and knit tops
Among these is a red tank I've had since college, and every time I see it, I think of climbing the city walls while living in Jerusalem. This is a reminder of a less attached life, and a bit hard to let go. But I have a picture of me scaling a wall while wearing it. And if I really feel so nostalgic about that sort of thing, maybe I need to just climb more walls in the life I have now. (I actually still do this, but now it's usually with a baby strapped to me.)

3 dresses
One of these I wore only once, to a friend's wedding. It is cheery and cute, and I hope it makes someone happy!

1 khaki trench coat
It makes me look like a flasher.

2 skirts

1 silky top with the tags still on

1 pair too-small winter socks

Today's Total: 60
Total To Date: 60

The Rules

2011-01-15T20:19:00.000-08:00

Rules. We're not a bunch of aimless monkeys or free love hippies. We need rules. So here is what we came up with for our 1,000 things challenge.

The rules:

1) The preference is that items will be given away to friends/family. If no one can use the items they will be donated or sold. If no one in their right mind would ever use the item, they well be recycled, composted or disposed of.

2) If something wants to live in our house, it must meet one or more of these criteria: Is it useful? Is it beautiful? Is it meaningful? (and even that does not guarantee residence)

3) Our goal is to reduce the stuff we have, not increase it. Keeping with that ethos, any items that comes into the home this year will count double against our 1,000 item goal; if a new sweater comes in, two items will need to go to offset.

4) Items intended for immediate use (toiletries, food, etc.) do not count. New items that cannot be used up have a two week grace period for before rule 3 is triggered.

5) We like to give stuff away. In fact, the act of giving stuff away brings us more joy than acquiring the item in the first place. If you want anything listed on our blog, let us know if you want it (onethousandless@yahoo.com). For the local folks we can arrange transfer. For out of towners you pay shipping and the item is yours.

One Thousand Less

2011-01-15T05:53:00.000-08:00

We're Ron and Joy. We live in a largish city with two small children, two cats, and more things than we can count. And through a process of donating, giving away, selling, and discarding, we'd like to have one thousand less.

Why one thousand?

No good reason, really. It's a pretty arbitrary number. There's a story of a man who limited himself to one thousand items: pieces of silverware, t-shirts, books, everything. While it sounds lovely, we're not that austere (or that precise!), so eliminating a thousand things is probably a better fit. We'll list the things that go, and explain a bit about why.

Maybe we'll find that losing a thousand things doesn't even make a dent. Maybe we'll get squeamish toward the end of it and not have anything left to sit on! We don't know. But we could use less stuff, whatever number we put on it.

This is our story of finding ourselves one thousand less.