query? part II

"And so, I think the idea is good, but needs more direction. I don't think the topic could stand on it's own without a stronger angle."
- An editor.

Yes, queries are difficult, but finally having the guts to query an editor only to receive an e-mail like this is down right terrifying. Support and assert my idea? I thought I would just send it to you and then sit back and listen to your profuse praise while you greenlight this article and any other fleeting idea I've ever considered fit for publication.

Now I'm wondering, am I really smart enough to do this? Do I have the level of intelligence necessary to connect this issue with any kind of insightful thought? Is my creativity a complete sham? Oh, the writer's mind. It is truly fraught with all kinds of anxiety and a touch of bipolar: the confident high I was riding after seeing my name in print last week, the despondent doubt I'm experiencing this morning.

So, you'll kindly excuse me for now. I'm off to fetch a cup of tea, close my eyes and inhale deeply, then hit "reply" and attempt to salvage this article.

query?

there are a lot of worst things about freelance journalism.  developing story ideas is the worst. convincing a subject to agree to an interview is the worst. writing interview questions is fun, but sometime conducting the actual interview is terrible. nerve wracking. the worst. querying editors is the worst.

no, really.

querying editors is the worst. 

i'm not sure what other profession combines mental strain and personal risk as completely as freelance writing does. it's like cultivating a rare and precious fruit in your backyard, ripening it to perfection, then finally plucking it and offering the first taste to a notoriously picky eater who has license to hurl the fruit across the room and watch as it splatters against the wall and slides sloppily to the floor. this is what i endure, myself and my little brainfruits.

every time i query an editor, i have to make a carefully-weighed decision: do i want to offer this apple to someone else, or would i like to eat it myself this time?

a poem is never finished, only abandoned.
~ paul valery (french critic and poet 1871-1945)

this is true about poetry, yes, but i think it is a universal statement about all art. i've never truly finished anything i've ever written, only gotten sick of working on it or declared it "good enough." sometimes things are done, but i believe there's a thin differentiation between done and finished. it is in that small place that most of my projects lie: no longer a work-in-progress, but always somehow needing a little more work.

when writing an article, i often have to call people to arrange interviews or sometimes to do the actual interview over the phone. this is normal. those people are my primary sources and without them, the article couldn't be written. i've probably done this somewhere around 200 times by now, i'd imagine, or maybe more.

there's always this internal struggle. i look up the number. i pause. my heart seizes up. i think of a million things i have to do before i can call the person. my laundry. clean my room. track down an image on a server somewhere. refresh my blog and look for comments. call my boss and ask him a question.

even after i do all of those things, i still have to call the person. no call, no article. i stare at the phone. i pick up the receiver. i put it back down. up. down. swallow. i dial the number. i dialed the wrong number. i hang up and dial the right number. those rings are always the hardest. i pray it goes to voicemail. it would be easier on me if an actual someone answered. but i always pray it goes to voicemail. i leave such good voicemails.

the actual someone actually picks up. i experience one more flash of panic, so tight and intense i think i might cry. then, from some quadrant in my brain, professionalism takes over. i hear my voice saying the right things, acting friendly. i hear my voice asking intelligent questions. i see that i've taken a few pointed notes. i'm joking, i'm laughing, i'm having a good time talking to this person i so desperately did not want to call.

i hang up, high on the kind of adrenaline that releases after you do something that you're good at, and you do it well.

i don't think i'll ever get over the panic, though, no matter how many times i do it. writer's panic. even joan didion had it.

concieve.create.repeat

today, i'm feeling so very creativ.e.
maybe it's the sunshine this morning after the
rain??

i just discovered the answer to a question i've had for months:
question: how to make over a lamp i found on the side of the road?
answer: scales. trust me.

also, how do you people feel about feather headpieces?
not really indian style.
i'm thinking more like zelda-fitzgerald-roaring-twenties-gin-martini-type feather headpieces.
do you think i could make these on my own?? (i'm not afraid to try).

other things on the list: pumpkin carving, halloween costume, decorating the house to look like a spooky mansion...
i can't wait.

do you ever have that funny feeling where your brain suddenly unlocks an idea that it had been holding captive? i live for that.

sometimes i write nursery rhymes

if it grows by leaps and bounds
when it's lead you all around
and it's written on your face
you want to call the chase
what do you do?
sink into the blue
climb back into bed
cover your little head
gracefully fade away
wait for a different day
hope everyone forgets
deal with the regrets?
or do you face it straight on
tell 'em they're all wrong
work until it's done
and fight till you're the one
when you win you'll know
how to stand on your own.
everyone will be proud
celebrate real loud.
until the next thing comes along
and it's started off all wrong
you work to make right
you don't give up the fight.


it's how we learn and know
step by step, we grow.

i'm with the band

friday was just one of those days.

the good kind.

i was productive at work. i did all of my errands. i received an unexpected check in the mail.

the ak came over. we rode the motorcycle down to the crossroads. we had margs and mexican at manny's. we met up with friends and family to hear

some beautiful music. we ran into our favorite waitress while she was playing her flute on the street. we popped into galleries and businesses. we saw friends. we met people.

isn't it funny how somedays are so good and others are so terrible, and it really all comes down to how comfortable you feel in your own skin?

just as we were about to leave, we ran into these guys:

yes, it is a genuine rock band completely comprised of kids. kids that i hope to adopt.

when i went to give them some money, i realized their tip bucket was full. i'm proud to live in a city that encourages young ingenuity.

alan and i ended our night at the skies, rotating slowly above kansas city.

metal heart

you know how some people are just real-life heroes?

for example, my sister chelsea. she's only 21 but she's already lived in italy and costa rica, visted korea, hung out in ecuador, nicagrauga, panama and spain. chelsea can talk to you about Jesus in english or spanish, which ever you prefer.

it's her goal to traipse all over the world, taking care of people in the name of Jesus.

chelsea is my real-life hero.

or drew and alie.

i don't even know where to start.

drew and alie love God. they've been to thailand and sudan and the end of the world because of His love.

even when they're just in plain ol' columbus, their love shines.

(plus they're amazing photographers).

sometimes when i think about how much i love drew and alie, i can't stand it.

drew and alie are my real-life heroes.

i have a new real-life hero. let's call her "ms.k."
every morning, ms.k wakes up in her bed on the bad side of town. she drinks some tea. she spends some time with Jesus. then she goes to one of the worst elementary schools in the city and teaches all day long.

art class.

ms.k has the audacity to teach beauty to kids who only know pain. to create in the midst of destruction. when ms.k tells me about the things that have become her reality, i cry.
ms.k, i know you're going to change those kid's lives. you and Jesus.

ms.k, you're my real-life hero.

only someone with a metal heart could be brave enough to love love love in a world with so much pain.

fair isle socks

i watched an episode of the rachel zoe project this weekend and it made me want to get my closet ready for fall.

which happened to be perfect, because the weather's been fall all week.

i visited a few thirft stores and my neighborhood target. i got fall-type things (it's a little blair waldorf). new tights, jumpers, headbands and fair isle socks.

(which i'm wearing right now.)

then i came home and cleaned my closet. i put everything in order. now my closet is "per-fect-ly mer-chan-dized" as taylor from RZP would say. olly and i even hung out in there for a little bit.

when my closet is clean, i feel more human.

know your onion!

sometimes i feel like an onion. i don't know how to describe this feeling except, well, there's the center of the onion that formed when i was a very little girl, and then every year there's a new layer, until i'm 23 and i'm quite the well-developed onion. but that part at the center, and all of those layers thereafter, are still very much me. sometimes i am the center of my onion, a little girl , and sometimes i am the newest layer, a 23-year old, but more often i am somewhere in between, leaving me to feel very, very 15.

it's hard, sometimes, to look and act 23 but feel six or 15. there are a lot of discrepancies, as i'm sure you can imagine, between appropriate feelings for a 15-year old and someone who is completely finished with college and has been "on her own" for the past year-and-a-half.

things this weekend that made me feel six:
- my dog ate an article of my clothing (tantrum)
- i ate chicken-fil-a (truly enjoying fast food)

things this weekend that made me feel 15:
- a series of events ended up with me home alone on saturday night (self-indulgent loneliness)
- crying in mccoys in front of the waitress (unexplained crying)
- afraid of the waiter at lulus (intimidated by people who seem cooler than me)

things this weekend that made me feel 23:
-cleaned my house for five hours on saturday (deriving joy from chores)
-spent loads of money on nothing very exciting (sensible spending)



do you ever feel like an onion?

last night i helped with a surprise.

katie and nick never get to see each other. but they're, you know, in like. so it's hard. i can understand. when nick e-mailed me to ask would i please help him surprise katie, well, what was i supposed to say? of course yes. i think the only people on earth who wouldn't want to help with that surprise are recent divorcees and dictators. too busy oppressing people! (although, chavez probably knows how to have a good time).

so we came up with a secret plan. kate and i would eat dinner (at lulus, where i wish i lived. i wish i had my bedroom right in the center of lulus, and those hipster waiters would bring me red curry in bed.) and then we'd "meet up with people" at murays. for ice cream. and cookies.

the whole time i was nervous i would accidentally give up the surprise. like when you're sitting on the balcony at church, and you think, "i may jump over this balcony." and you know you wont, but you could. i was relieved when we finally made it to murays. i didn't give up the surprise!

katie and nick were so happy. you know that one youtube where the guys raise the lion cub, then release him into the wild, then go back a year later and find him again. the lion is so excited, he runs to them, jumps on them hugs them, then goes and gets his wife and introduces her to his old friends. it was exactly like that, except katie didn't go back and get her wife.

pieces of our mythology

the first time ak and i ever hung out (went out?), he called me for directions. well are you driving? i asked. "yes, i have a green jeep."

i'm sure there was more to our conversation, but that detail inexplicably sticks with me. i think about it probably once a week, actually. (little treasures like bits of memories and people's names tend to get trapped in my mind and roll around, i guess, like semi-precious stones in a rock tumbler. someday i'll take them out and they'll be shiny and smooth.)

several minutes later (he was running a little late, even way back then, and to tell the truth, he still is most of the time) i looked out the sixth story window of my apartment onto the street below. i saw a cute stranger parking a green jeep. my heart jumped. i felt wonderfully ill.

sometimes, i still do.

i get a terrible headache about once a month. i can feel them coming on: my shoulder starts to tense up, and then my neck, and then on the third day i'm hit with a full-blown pain parade. Weird vision, stabbing in my temple, general discomfort around the back of my head. today the pain was making me nauseous, nauseous, nauseous, and then suddenly, hungry. like, ravenous. like, i had to eat immediately or suffer certain death.

i dashed to the kitchen to warm up my lunch. as luck would have it this was my day to be visited by the fridge stealer (why me?), because all of my food was gone. the bread that i use to make toast: gone (!). the frozen pizzas i keep for emergencies: gone (!!). oh, mysterious fridge stealer, you make life interesting. i never know when i might be forced to forage for food outside the safe walls of my office.

a sandwich sounds good, i thought. i had the brilliant idea to have one made at the local grocery store deli rather than hitting up subway or jimmy johns. seems like a cheaper and fresher way to acquire a sandwich, right?

except. my sandwich was literally one thin slice of meat and one piece of cheese on white bread. not a sub. on white wonder bread. i had to beg for a piece of lettuce. and it cost. four. dollars. and. seven. teen. cents. no chips, no drink, just sandwich.

the guy who rang me up told me to "have a five-star day." i don't want a five-star day. i want a five-star sandwich.

tomorrow, i'll remember to pack.

(the sandwich in question.)

jim the bread man has a curly white mullet. he drives a big red astro van with the bench seats taken out. he is mysteriously related to the amish.
jim the bread man has a deal worked out with white hen and price chopper. a few times a week he goes and picks up groceries that are nearing the end of their shelf life. then he brings them over to my office and lets us pick out anything we want.
sometimes sandra sees jim the bread man driving up the road. she tells me that he's coming and i race upstairs to wait for him.
thanks jim, for all of the yummy food!

today is the first day of fall. can you feel it? i don't think i can, not yet.
ak and i went to chicago this weekend, but i didn't take one (!) picture. just imagine that it was beautiful.
let's go apple picking.

well first, there's this:

yesterday couldn't have been any better. it was just the sunshine, my little man and me.

i had grapefruit.

he had grass.

i worked. he played.

we're in love.

we have finally come up for air after what seemed like days and weeks of rain. i know we didn't receive even a fourth of the worst of it, and believe me, i am grateful. but still. people who say they'll take the rain must be truly crazy. give me a sunbeam every day of the week.



we made do with the rainy days, even if it meant letting the dogs wrestle in the middle of the living room, muddy paw prints everywhere and a leaky, smelly basement. event if it meant a daily commute complete with rivers and waterfalls.


sunday the clouds parted just enough so that we could take olly on a walk. we were quite pleased to find he has no need for remedial sitting lessons.

and my dream of owning a giant, finger-painted portrait of my dog have come true. ak thinks the $200 price tag is a bit steep, but i say there is no limit to the amount of money i'm willing to spend in order to prove my devotion.

it turns out i'm not very good about simple-blogging, am i?

and anyway, i was recently challenged with the idea that the more beauty is celebrated, the more beauty the celebrator has. so i decided to use this blog to celebrate the things in my life that are beautiful, and hopefully the more i celebrate them, the more beautiful my life will become. it is a way to view life as art, something that can be cultivated and executed and edited for beauty. life as art. art as life. beauty. i like that.

i'm not very good at painting, sketching, sculpting or photography. but i can live, so i guess i can still make art. i'll try. and you'll get to see how it works.

here's something beautiful: the vineyard alan and i visted in rocheport, missiouri. it's a place where rows of grapes grow on vines on top of a bluff, over looking the missiouri river. we cycled about seventy miles to get there, and we arrived sweaty and tired. we walked right up to those vines and plucked off a few ripe grapes. they were tangy and full of seeds, but they tasted wonderful...
and it was pretty good in liquid form, too. maybe you can see the river in the background of this picture. we were above it, on a patio built out over the bluff. for a moment, we were in switzerland or italy. the moment passed, we hopped back on our bikes and rode 60 miles home. (but the grapes made the whole trip worth while.)

Olly had to stay with Mark and Kathy while we were on our trip. don't worry. he came home with new treats and a toy. what more could a little boy need?

OZONE ALERT

This weekend I'm going to extend the simple challenge into financial territory - because what fun is something if you don't involve money? AK and I made an agreement to not spend any money this weekend. No eating out, no shopping (and it's tax free weekend in MO!), no movies, etc. We have to find simple ways to entertain ourselves, with out making any financial expenditures. Expect a full report on Monday.

Other simple challenge related matters: today Kansas City is under an Ozone Alert, so bus fare is only $0.50. Leave your car at home and ride that bus!

If I were an X-men, or a Hero, or some kind of mutant with a specially evolved super power I'm certain my skill would be something involving my olfactory sense. Unfortunately it isn't as glamorous as a cheerleader who can heal herself or a phoenix with telepathic abilities, but we all make do with what we have. And I have a very heightened sense of smell.

I have never told anyone this, mostly because it's kind of embarrassing, but I feel like it properly illustrates my power of sniff. I once lived in an apartment that had a bit of a cockroach problem. Every so often, one of the monsters would make it's way to my bathroom via the bathtub drain. Gross? Yes, but even more terrible: I could smell the roaches before I would see them. My nose would detect a distinct earthy smell and a few seconds later a cockroach would crawl into my sight line. It was an occurrence that I dreaded every morning when getting ready for work.

Basically, I can smell everything.

Like the cat pee in my new kitchen. I don't know at what point a feline lived in my house, but I do know that its owner didn't have time to properly train it to use a litter box. Now I'm left to deal with that specific musty smell every time it's humid. And Kansas City in the middle of July? It's always humid.

"I might not have signed the lease if I knew about the cat-pee smell," I complained to my mom. Her answer: "Murphy's oil soap once a week."

Is Murphy's a miracle? Maybe not, but it is quite the product, and so unassuming. The formula is about 100 years old, vegetable based, biodegradable and it's a soap, not a detergent, so it isn't caustic or harsh. Plus it smells amazing. And, if used once a week on a cat-peed floor, it will begin to lift the scent out of the floorboards. It's affordable too - Murphy's can be found at any neighborhood grocery for about $6/ 32 oz.

the simple challenge took an unplanned hiatus because for the last three weeks my life has been anything but. acquiring a nine-week-old welsh terrier named oliver: unsimple. moving myself and olly from our little one-bedroom into a two-story house with two roommates and another dog: unsimple. scrubbing, sweeping, scrapping, taping and painting a 500 square-foot apartment in the course of three days while maintaining a full schedule: unsimple.

i've been told i act like a five-year-old who hasn't been taught how to do anything. it might sound harsh, but there's a nugget of truth in that statement. i'd like to think i'm a bit of a classic idiot savant: very strong in a few areas and dismally insufficient in every other. for example, i don't really know how to swim. or tell time on an analog clock. or change a flat, mow the lawn or use a propane grill. until i moved to kansas city last june i'd never taken out the trash. i'm not even a very good driver.

something else i'd never done: clean a stove top. i mean really clean one, taking the entire range apart and scrubbing until it looks new. so i think it follows that i'd never really known how utterly noxious some household chemicals really are. as in, causing headaches, nausea, faintness of breath and congestion the likes of which could compete with the nastiest of flus.

unfortunately, i didn't even consider making my moving process part of the simple challenge until it was over. but i won't miss another opportunity to simplify: my roommates and i have a big feat in front of us, in terms of cleaning and unpacking and setting up our new house. so the next simple challenge phase will examine the best way to set up a shared household in terms of simplicity and conservation.

make way for bikes

In Norwalk, Connecticut, they're dealing with quite the quandary. Their rail line is being outfitted with new cars soon, and the problem is this: to bike or not to bike?

Gov. Jodi Rell hopes modifying the design of the car to make room for commuters to bring their bikes on board will encourage people to ride rather than drive to the train station.

Not so fast! Her constituents say. Have you seen how crowded those cars are?

"I certainly hope the governor understands how crowded the trains are today . . . and how that situation is only going to get worse before it gets better," said James Cameron, chairman of the Connecticut Rail Commuter Counsel. "How are they possibly going to take a bicycle and include it inside the car without losing seats? I don't think it's possible."

As commuters look to creative options for their morning commute, I think more cities are going to run into this problem. How can we include bikes in the mix without taking up space needed for actual bodies?

To read more about the problems in Norwalk, go here.

don't be shy!

It was Kanye who said we're all self-consious, and then John Mayer later echoed this sentiment. I probably have less pop-culture clout than either of those gentlemen, but I'll admit it, I am. Part of the reason I waited nearly a year to figure out public transportation in Kansas City was intimidation. For all of the mass- transit riding I did in Chicago, bus routes have always puzzled me. Just when it seems that you've boarded the correct bus and you're sailing down the street toward your intended destination, the bus takes a sharp left and proceeds to zig-zag at random through the city. You there, seated near the rear window? You're powerless to stop it. Also, the bus driver will be visibly frustrated by your questions while the other passengers pretend they can't see or hear you.

But, you know, I've always thought necessity is the mother of change and encouragement is its father. Maybe personal benefit is a big brother or aunt or something. It took all of these factors to convince me to leave my car parked and board that shiny blue bus, and after experiencing the friendly and efficient service of KCATA, I couldn't be more confident in my choice.

Those who are still on the fence about the possibility of using the Metro for their daily commute might consider attending the How To Ride seminar this Saturday. The KCATA is throwing a party to teach new riders how to save money, conserve resources and basically party every morning with the people who are old pros at mass transit. Need more encouragement? How does "free three day pass for those in attendance" sound?

i'm not alone

When starting the simple challenge I didn't expect to be the only person who was changing my living habits. "Green" and "conserve" and "simplify" are everywhere these days. It's trendy. It's socially aware. I had a hunch many people would be looking for new ways to commute, eat and live. As part of the simple challenge I'll be looking for examples of people who are onto the same I idea I am, and I'll post about them here. The best way to learn is from the examples of another.

New ways of getting from A to B: from the Montrose Daily press in Montrose, Colorado
There's been an uptick in sales of all things bike-related in Montrose. People are regularly commuting on their bikes and outfitting themselves with messenger bags, bike racks, saddle bags and more. The decision is paying off: in gas savings alone Montrose resident Luke Young is pocketing an estimated $300 each month through the use of his two-wheel transportation. His downtown commute is just a couple miles that, by bike, cuts his commute time. “You can actually — at least downtown— get to where you need to go way faster on bike than car.”

My commute is much farther than Luke's, and I go by bus and bike, but I've still seen savings on gas during the past two weeks of the challenge.

a fine example

Fred Mathes, 92, of California has been riding the same Schwinn for 56 years. His typical ride is 14 miles round trip. When he takes his car to be serviced, he loads his bike in the backseat and rides it 20 miles home. On his 80th birthday he rode to Oxnard, Calif., about 380 miles. When he turned 90 he rode to the Friant Dam and back - an 80 mile round trip.
He and his wife are life long conservators.

“I don’t like to throw anything away that’s valuable. We’re very careful with gasoline, electricity, water. We try to make things last."

To read more about Fred, go here.

remodel

"Oh yeah! I like this. These buses look new."
^a KCATA bus rider

It was an exciting morning on the Metro. Passengers entering the #142 bus expecting the standard red upholstered benches were surprised by a brand new interior featuring separate seats, a futuristic color scheme, brighter lighting, more accessible overhead railing and three tiers of seating allowing room for more passengers. General consensus was positive as riders spread out and settled in for their morning commute.


^Old interior


^New Interior

buses and bikes

Since I moved from Chicago to Kansas City almost a year ago I've cultivated a little grudge against the local public transportation system, the Metro. My reasons weren't sound or logical, and they can mostly be summed up as, "It's not the CTA!" It was very possible that the Metro ran more efficiently than the CTA, was cheaper and had more comfortable vehicles with friendlier operators. I didn't care. The CTA was the system I was accustomed to, the Metro was new. Everything was new when I first moved, and it was one more new thing that I didn't care to figure out. Learning so many new things all at once is exhausting.

Then about a month ago my friend Baird explained to me how he took the bus to work and loaded his bike on the front of the bus. He had all kinds of great things to say about how inexpensive it was, how much gas money he was saving, how easy it was to get his bike on the rack. He really made the bus system sound like some kind of mass-transit wonderland, and I got a little jealous. The part of my brain that used to be kind of public-transportation- obsessive perked up. Suddenly I had all kinds of questions about bus routes, maps and schedules.

Luckily, the KC Metro has an easy-to-use website with a trip planner, updated news and information, a traffic watch and all of the maps, routes and schedules I could ever dream or imagine. After figuring out which buses would best take me from my apartment to the office, I decided I'd give it a trial run.

I was at the first bus stop at 7:28 am, bike in tow. The first route I took is the MAX, which features brand new buses, futuristic looking stops with lots of seating, and a to-the-minute news ticker that announces the time the next bus will arrive. Loading my bike was easy, and the driver even came out to make sure I'd done it properly. He was enthusiastic and attentive, handed a transfer card to me, and when I overpaid the fare (it's $1.25), he gave me back a fare card with my change on it. I couldn't have been more surprised if he'd handed me a doughnut.

The MAX dropped me off downtown by Union Station and I waited for my next route, the 142. After about 8 minutes it came - just like the website trip planner had promised. Again I loaded my bike, and boarded what is best described as a lounge on wheels. The aisles were wide, the seats stuffed and upholstered and there was only one other passenger. It was like having a personal luxury vehicle hired to chauffeur me to work.

Except, if a luxury vehicle actually had been hired to take me to work, it wouldn't have dropped me off 2 miles away from my office. I rode the line as far north as it went, and embarked on the final leg of my journey, self-propelled on my Schwinn. When I biked up to my office, a little sweaty and out of breath from the hilly ride, three of my coworkers were outside, waiting for me. As I rode closer they started to clap. And cheer. For me and my bike. And, I'd like to think, for my accomplishment of the first step in the simple challenge.

simple beginnings

I suppose it could have started anywhere, but for me it started at the quicktrip down the road. Standing there in the wind, watching resources drain from my wallet into my car, I had an epiphany. "This," I muttered out loud, "is so unsustainable."

Well, it was maybe not the most ground-breaking, earth-shattering, life-changing thought that's ever occurred to someone, but it was important to me. I felt tricked, cheated, ripped off, fleeced, bamboozled and a little offended. Most notably, I had the feeling I was being coerced into this cycle of gas, drive, repeat, and there were no other options available.

As a girl who values her independence, this reliance on fossil fuels had run its course. It isn't about all of the melting polar ice caps, rising sea levels, endangered animal species save-the-world stuff, although that's a benefit. Neither is it some kind of consumer protest, letting my money talk type of thing, even though I'm sure in some way my money will. It's the idea that so many of my habits are just rote practice, culture-dictated and never challenged, and I want to know that if there's a way to do something, it's the best way. Otherwise, why bother?

How can I define "best?" Well, there's no way to really say for sure, but I'd like to hope that simple is best. To live simply is to find ways to meet my needs while refusing to oppress any other person, consuming the least amount of resources possible and doing it in a way that promotes peace, beauty and love. That's why yesterday I came up with the simple challenge.

Since it's a challenge, it needs parameters. I'll participate from June 1 to September 30, and evaluate my continued participation after that. I'll attempt to examine the habits in my life including transportation, nutrition, housekeeping, dressing, etc., and adjust them to fall under my definition of "simple." My participation will need accountability, so I'll write about the challenge here, hopefully sharing the ideas I uncover that might be useful to someone else.

So, since gas prices touched off this whole process, I'm starting with transportation first. I'm a little nervous but mostly hopeful.