The KonMari Method and Me


I have been hearing of Marie Kondo’s book and it’s overwhelming popularity for some time now. I wasn’t too interested in reading it because my home is not cluttered, I’m minimalist in everything except my library, and I am very happy with my life and house.

But I picked it up anyway. I had a gift card to spend at Barnes and Noble and along with a leather bound journal and some note cards it caught my eye.

I thoroughly enjoyed it. Apart from some cheesy personification of objects and a vague sort of spiritualism about them, her advice resonated deeply. She encourages owning only things you love (which has long been mostly my philosophy) and requires that everything have a place to be put away (which is also what I do). But what was most charming in her book was her encouragement to be grateful to your possessions for what the are doing or have done for you. For years I have dealt with feelings of restlessness and discontent by stopping and remembering to be grateful to God for all that I have in my life. I have found it easy to care for my home over the years, despite being an essentially lazy person, because I am so grateful to have this beautiful space and the peace and security I experience here.

But…my home is already minimally furnished. My wardrobe is already made up of only clothes I love. My shelves already filled with books that “spark joy” every time I hold them. But…the boys’ bedroom!

There is one place in the house that has always been cluttered, messy, and chaotic. I have frequently gone up there and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. I have thrown stuff out, organized, dusted, vacuumed, and then three months later done it all over again. Marie Kondo emphasizes again and again that the process of decluttering is very important for her clients. They simply must make the decisions of what “sparks joy” as a way of training themselves to know their own desires. Her book gave me the idea of leading my sons through the process instead of trying to do it for them. How much better to teach them to care affectionately for their possessions by allowing them to choose what they love owning rather than telling them what they can and cannot keep?

And it seems to work. On Tuesday I spent about 3 hours with Alex and Luc in their bedroom. We took everything off the shelves and out of the drawers. We first went through their clothes and, other than their school uniforms, I had them choose what clothes they love to wear. We donated a bag full of their discards. Then they decided they wanted to keep two categories of toys (Star Wars toys and Dinosaurs) but put them away for a while, so we bagged them up to put in the attic. Next I had them choose what pencils, crayons, etc they wanted and we designated a drawer in each of their desks for the ones they kept and I threw the rest away. Likewise papers they had colored on were either thrown away or put into a designated drawer. Legos were picked up and a couple of shelves designated for their storage. Beds were made. And then we sorted through all the miscellaneous stuff. I gave them each a basket and asked them to put their “treasures” in them. Then we looked at all the stuff still on the floor and I asked them to go find every single thing they absolutely loved owning and we would find a place for it. When they said they were done we threw every other thing out. They then hesitated over a few items but I reminded them that they didn’t love owning it and so it wasn’t worth keeping. They both found that standard easy to identify and to hold to. Luc is more of a packrat and so he had more of those hesitating moments but we had no arguments and no grief over any of the process. In all of this “tidying” I didn’t buy a single organizer or tote or tub. In fact, I threw three out!

The strength of this process is in training the decision-making faculty. I am sure that I will need to remind and guide my sons further, but realizing that this was something I could teach them to do for themselves and not something I needed to continue doing for them was a nice breakthrough. We’re a few days in and their room is still clean (other than the blankets strung up around their beds making a fort – they are still kids). When I tell them to pick up, it only takes a few minutes both because they have much less stuff over all and because they know the place for everything. And not to oversell the “magic” of tidying, but with a tidy bedroom Alex and Luc have both been re-energized to work on some of their creative projects (making their own trading card game) and haven’t been having even less than their usual low-level of brotherly conflict.


Lemon Cake


Long ago, I worked at a certain ubiquitous coffee shop. I would rise ungodly early – 4:45am – and go make lattes. A major perk of working there, and there were many, was unlimited coffee drinks while you work. I would also often be able to have a day old pastry for breakfast. The Lemon Pound Cake was my favorite. This knock-off recipe appeared in my Facebook feed and I gave it a try. It is delicious. The icing came out a bit thin, so I would suggest adding a few more tablespoons of powdered sugar to thicken so it doesn’t run all over the plate. Or…you could just scrape the run-off up and eat it with a spoon. I’ll never tell.




1 cup SUGAR

2 tablespoon BUTTER; Softened.

1 teaspoon VANILLA

1 teaspoon LEMON EXTRACT


1 1/2 cup FLOUR

1/2 teaspoon BAKING SODA

1/2 teaspoon BAKING POWDER

1/2 teaspoon SALT



1 cup(s) POWDERED SUGAR; Plus 1 Tablespoon.

2 tablespoon(s) WHOLE MILK

1/2 teaspoon(s) LEMON EXTRACT


Use a mixer to blend together the eggs, sugar, butter, vanilla, lemon extract and lemon juice in a medium bowl.

Add dry ingredients one at a time in order listed mixing well after each addition.

Add oil and mix well.

Pour batter into a well greased OR parchment lined 9×5-inch loaf pan.

Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes or until a toothpick stuck into center of the cake comes out clean.

Make the lemon icing by combining all the icing ingredients in a small bowl with a whisk.

When the loaf is cool, remove it from pan and frost the top with the icing.

Let the icing set up before slicing.


A Story for my Nephew – Amanda Patchin


Dust swirls. Breezes sigh. The metallic tang of blood is heavy in the air. The doorposts of the slave quarters are smeared, sticky, dark. Elsewhere no meaty iron scent corrupts the night air, just ordinary cooking fires, burning lamps, the muddy river. Night sounds join scents: soft voices, barking dogs, croaking frogs.


It is a wealthy land, fertile, educated, artistic. Great architecture in every street, great art on every wall, great politics in the courts


The stench of death is heavy over this land. Not just tonight’s sacrifices, although they too count in the toll. No, this land bears slaughter many times the weight of these bleating sheep, throats cut, blood drained, meat roasted. This land groans under death multiplied beyond nature’s limits.


A slave driven with whips, kept to short rations, worked long hours. A hard task made foolishly harder as the drivers withhold the necessary tools. This cruelty multiplied five hundred thousand times to every slave on every work gang on every day.


A slave woman brought to bed in her due time, the pains taking her mid-day, each one leaving her breathless, shaken by the expected agony. Exhausting hours pass and with a truly final effort she pushes her child forth with the shreds of will and muscle left to her. A girl? A boy! The midwife slices the cord quickly and flees the woman’s cries. To the river. Always to the river.


Such a guilty land should be wiped from the earth. Fire and brimstone. Judgement from heaven.


Instead, Azrael is waiting with his flaming sword.


The sweat of Sobek flows north through the land, the source of all her wealth. But lately the river has been untrue. Bloodied by the deaths of thousands of baby boys it was bloodied in fact some days since. Un-bloodied it vomited forth millions of croaking frogs crushed underfoot.


The jackal-headed god cannot understand. He sees death dealt and knows he should drink deeply tonight but is restrained by one hand lightly upraised.


Azrael knows his task and sets about his work. Mercy in every death. Mercy heavier than the weightiest justice. The first born fall before his sword. One only in each family for each generation. One only.




Fellow readers, I am often asked for book recommendations. It can be difficult to make specific recommendations to another reader without long standing reading intimacy. Other than the great books everyone should read, I have a few I recommend often.

I first read The Elegance of the Hedgehog a few years ago. Its alternating stories of the rich inner lives of a 50-something concierge in an elegant Parisian apartment building and a 12-year-old resident of the same are delicate and inspiring. Renee’s story of her autodidactic education alongside young Paloma’s existential despair make for an elegant philosophical and emotional exploration.

Life Philosophies


Ahem. Please excuse the pretentious title.


Whether we realize it or not, we have a philosophy of life. We may never have articulated it to ourselves, but we live by it nonetheless. My favorite analysis of your personal philosophy involves this exercise summarized below:

  1. Take a few minutes and write down an ordered list of how you spent your time in the last week by greatest total hours (excepting sleep). Feel free to estimate, but be honest. If it really includes 20 hours of TV or of surfing the web (my weakness), then write it down truly. You should have 10-20 significant things you spend your time on including work and/or education, leisure activities, and chores.
  2. Take a few minutes to write down what you really believe to be important in life in a hierarchical list.
  3. Tear up the second list because it is nothing. The first list is truly your Philosophy of Life because it is what you are doing with your life.

We also tend to have a number of other philosophies floating about in our daily lives. I believe it is healthy to frequently examine the philosophies driving our behavior and consciously work to develop them into theologically sound ones.

I have a couple of minor philosophies that govern some aspects of my life. I recently shared one with the high school cross country team at The Ambrose School during a nutrition talk. Proper nutrition is an important aspect of athletic performance and living in our particular culture requires a lot of conscious thought and careful choices about food to avoid falling off a nutritional cliff.  Of course, we talked about having a good balance of macros, discussed not getting into a restrict/binge cycle, and put up some example menus but before this we had to determine our philosophy of eating. The runners were very clear on the twin purposes of eating (fuel and pleasure). We did need to determine the balance between those and we needed to decide our primary philosophy of eating. I asked them what made a food good or bad for you. They were quick to list what they identified as “bad” foods and then to point out what was bad about them. Their list:

  • Ice cream (sugar, fattening)
  • Cheesecake (sugar, fattening)
  • Twinkies (empty calories)
  • Kale (tastes nasty)
  • Soda (sugar)
  • Doughnuts (sugar, fattening)

Notwithstanding these reasons, neither sugar content, total calories, or flavor can make a food “bad”. The only bad food is that which you are not properly grateful to God for. All food is good food insofar as you will be grateful for it. God clearly intended food for fuel as it does fuel our bodies. He also clearly intended it for pleasure; why else would we presented with such a dizzying array of flavors and textures? I feel strong after a meal of rich proteins, succulent fats, and crunchy vegetables. I feel great joy after a meal of complex, interesting, and balanced flavors. Grilled chicken and salads have fueled many a run and many a climb and Fettucini Carbonara with Chianti, garlic bread, and a dessert of Pots de creme has fueled many a long evening of conversation and revelry.

The goals of fuel and pleasure should be equally balanced in our eating habits and we should never sell one out for the other.

Every bite of food should be accompanied by gratitude to the One who created not only this meal and this palate but the very concepts of flavor and hunger and satisfaction.