My One Word: enough:: Pan Shopping

Really?

In the process of considering my one word, enough, I bump up against this truth: I have Royal status at OpenSky.com. Royal! This means I've spent more money than I have on an ongoing basis and have earned all these points and now I get a $20 credit twice a month which usually covers tax and maybe part of the shipping cost and all I have to do is just keep on buying from these curated sales and get all this cool stuff that I kinda want and really do need and really, really, really, what, I ask, does this have to do with enough?

Maybe it's the part where I just think of the word with a period at the end and rest.

I like the pans Tom Colicchio has added to his sale collection and is sharing. I could use them in many ways. But there's a little tap on the side of my head. A note. A beat, that begs the little question, "don't you have a few pans and could you stretch to make that cast iron pan work to sear the steak the same way the Mauviel's extra thick stainless steel pan (that comes with the extra thick stainless steel crepe pan) would?"

I hear my husband's voice: Where does this go? (Which also asks what does this do and why do we need this?)

I hear Krissy's words of her Grandma Dora: Use it up. Wear it out. Make it do. Or do without. (This is why we have these sister-friends we have.)

I feel freedom. Even if only for a moment, I the sense that I don't have to do anything.

Freedom.

I'm (non-judgmentally) aware that I've climbed or maybe even jumped onto a hamster wheel of invited sales with rewards and free and wants and sensational and more-than, spinning under my feet and into my home. And while I end up with a beautiful cabinet of lovely things, I've lost perspective, space and a reasonable degree of breath.

What is there to gain? Where is my heart? Is any of it really treasure?

I'm watching. Listening. Seeing. Enough.

Simplicity out of duplicity

I'm reading a wonderful book. Small and mighty by Mindy Caliguire, simply called, Simplicity. It jumps right into the clearing out of closets, looking for what stays and what goes. And in the process, speaks to the duplicity found therein. Yikes. Duplicity.
The author talks about the lack of truth found in the things we keep thinking (keeping thinking) that we'll use them. That they really are about us.
I'm starting to see the store-housed treasures as duplicitous purchases. The things I buy, bought, want, which have nothing to do with who I am, but who I'd like you to believe I am. There. I said it. Duplicity.
My darling friend was wearing a fun orange bag the other night as we strolled a promenade. We shared great, loving conversations about life and kids and all the ands we could come up with. I noted the bag, which is/was/could be the perfect size and shape, texture and color for me. Another friend referred to this orange delight as an "investment bag." With my focus away from new bags for the last few years, (this does suggest my focus elsewhere, graciously) I wasn't even aware of the maker of the statement. When I checked into where I could find this perfect bag, I found that even if I found it, (or it's rich red counterpart, ahhh) I wouldn't find it fitting into my experience anytime soon. (I pitched the idea of buying a $xxx.xx bag to my youngest and her first and funniest comment was, "or we could buy groceries and gas for a long time, Mom.") God has shifted my values. Narrowed my path. And for all the straining I do to go left or right, for now, He has me going fairly straight.
But, today, while I'm on that path, I notice a little tendency to pick up the (less expensive) rocks along the way. Not the ones the Father has put in front of me. Rather, those off to the side, under the bush, in the thicket along the path. I'm not always happy with the weight of carrying these trifles. They might be left there, close enough for me to pick up, test and try and learn about what I don't need.
Hmmm. Duplicity. Found in the distractions I choose when I could just stay focused on what the Creator has created for me. Duplicity. I like this.