SIMPLE LIFE 101

The other day, as I was carrying a box of books up the 1880's staircase in our 1880's Victorian house, I tried dodging a non-moving lump of Wire-Fox Terrier on the fourth step, tripped and fell. As the box tumbled out of my hands and smashed open, a dictionary leapt out of the box and landed on the landing: opened and splayed out to the page with this definition:
simple |ˈsimpəl|
adjective ( -pler , -plest )
1 easily understood or done; presenting no difficulty : a simple solution | camcorders are now so simple to operate.
• plain, basic, or uncomplicated in form, nature, or design; without much decoration or ornamentation : a simple white blouse | the house is furnished in a simple country style.
• [ attrib. ] used to emphasize the fundamental and straightforward nature of something : the simple truth.

It hit me. (A David Ford painting against the wall literally fell and hit me.) And then it hit me again. "I have chosen to live a more simple life!"
My quest to become simple, plain, basic, or uncomplicated has been a long time coming, and like all good couples, I had decided to drag Jon with me. Our first foray into the simple life was the departing of our massive sound system from that modern 1920's loft building we once called a home/theatre/stage area/performance arena/storage-unit of mismatched decades, when Jon, Atticus, and I moved. We now only listen to vinyl in our home in the Historic Northeast. In fact, as I type this on Jon's black Remington typewriter, we are listening to Sister Adele singing "Dominic-a" with all of its scratches and pops and snaps on a vintage turntable. Simple.

My next step- I banished my cell phone. (Well, really I destroyed our phones in a horrible cup holder "accident" on the way to Oklahoma City. You see, I placed both of our modern phone devices in the holder to make room for the dog to lay up-front in the truck and watch Wichita zoom by. The cup holder had an inch-and-a-half of water in it. These new-fangled items do not care to be submerged, so they died.) So, from now on, it is the aquamarine princess phone in the front parlor for me. Simple.
The "Simple Life" is coming to me much easier now, and each day I make bigger strides to step back and relax. I started to embrace having no washbasin in our upstairs powder room, kneeling after using the water closet and cleansing my hands in the iron claw foot tub. Each morning, waking from the sounds of Jon's wind up "1776" alarm clock (I tossed out the modern one beside the bed the other day), I put my hair up in a bun with a "simple" sprig of baby's breath-slip on a "simple white blouse" and full bustle and skirt and head down to my kitchen area to heat up the griddle that is sitting on our modern stove (that has yet to be hooked up.) To be honest, we just don't have the money yet to have this modern of a device in our home. I start prepare Jon's "simple" breakfast. A "simple" breakfast listed in Helen Corbitt's Cookbook for Housewives, consists of 6 strips of thick bacon, 4 eggs sunny side up, strong black coffee and corn fritters (that you had prepared the night before). Simple.

I keep embracing more of this lifestyle each day. My friends are even jumping in to help me on my quest. David Wayne Reed is teaching me how to ride the city's bus system. No more cars for me! Corrie Van Ausdal brought us homemade bread (she had made, I might add) for one of our meals. (It looked so good, but Atticus pulled it off the counter and devoured half of it by the time I had returned from gathering fresh basil in the garden). Simple.
I really need to go, my copper pots out back are now boiling and I need to add the lye and ash to make my soap. I hand wash all of Jon and my clothes-since we do not have a washer and dryer set up yet, and the last trip to the turquoise washer/dryer LAUNDRO-RAMA down the street has turned me off of the modern world.

It is the simple life for me, tons of work to do. And I pray that I never mix "simple" and "ton" together.

Ron (and Jon, and Atticus)