How to make decisions?

Years ago, when my book "The Simplicity Primer" was released, I always joked that the whole simplicity movement could be reduced to three words: Make good choices. I stand by that conclusion.

I mean, think it through. How many of our regrets stem from poor choices we made at the time? We make dozens of choices every single day, ranging from the minor ("What should I have for lunch?") to the major ("I think I can make it through this intersection before the light turns red...").

With that in mind, I just read something that makes perfect sense:

"The 10-10-10 Rule can help you make tough decisions. When faced with a choice, ask: How will I feel about this in 10 minutes? 10 months? 10 years? You weigh short-term stress against long-term impact. This approach helps you clarify what matters most."

Interesting approach. Very sensible.

Yet despite the benefits from making good decisions, people are in/famous for making bad ones. Why?

Scientists are examining this issue, trying to figure out why people make irrational or downright stupid decisions. At this point, the bottom line is nobody knows. There are competing factors (upbringing, environment, health, impulse control, diet, etc.) that play a part, but no one can determine anything specific.

Whatever scientists find out, it's unlikely to make a difference on individual actions.We're flawed human beings, and as such we will always make poor choices and decisions, and have lots of regrets.

Still, the 10-10-10 rule makes perfect sense. Let's all try applying it. Bottom line, Make good choices. Don't run that yellow light.

Let's hear it for trained monkeys

I grew to adulthood in the mid-to-late 1980s, when female empowerment was all the rage and ascending in one's corporate career (it was always a corporate career) was all-important.

(Remember 1980s "power dressing"?)

Along with millions of other young women, I fell for that mindset after graduating from college in 1985. For many years I was caught up in the career-is-supreme corporate culture. I wore business clothes to work. I read Working Woman magazine.

I tossed that all away in 1993 when Don and I left urban California and moved first to Oregon, then later to Idaho. Suddenly that relentless pressure on career success as a woman was in a different galaxy, and we settled into the joys and tears of  a home woodcraft business, parenthood, and homesteading.

But far, far away, that pressure for women to climb the corporate ladder continued unabated. Once in a while, a news or magazine article would pierce my contented little bubble of domesticity and profile a woman who "had it all," but most of the time the corporate culture was ... well, far far away.

So here we are, decades later and even deeper into rural living. The kids have grown up. Don retired and passed the woodcraft business to Older Daughter, and now he concentrates on projects to build up the homestead. I'm currently the breadwinner in the family, and I earn that bread by being what I like to call a "trained monkey."

I earn income freelance writing (magazines) and fiction writing (Harlequin's Love Inspired line), but it's the three-days-a-week online job in which I call myself a trained monkey. I do my job, and do it well, but I'm not called to make executive decisions or take heavy responsibility. And you know what? I've learned I like being a trained monkey.

A lot of this enjoyment has to do with my (remote) coworkers, who happen to be all men. These guys are smart, respectful, flexible, and easy to work with. That goes a long long way toward job satisfaction for us trained monkeys.

Anyway, the reason this issue came to mind is because of an article I stumbled across recently called "I Just Want a Dumb Job." [Language warning.] It profiled three women who lived and breathed the corporate or entrepreneurial environment, and burned out.

The intro to the article reads, "You got your dream job! Congratulations. Except – it sucks. The hours are terrible, the pay is bad, and your shiny title doesn't make up for the stress and drama. You secretly start to envy your friends who you used to make fun of – the corporate sellouts who clock in, clock out, and get paid. What does it feel like to realize that everything you thought you wanted in a career is actually a mirage? Here, three women talk about quitting the glamorous jobs they fought hard for and finding out that they're much happier on the other side.'"

It was that line "You secretly start to envy your friends who you used to make fun of" that caught my eye. In the mid-80s, mocking women who preferred domesticity over corporate climbing was very "in." I'm pleased to see those career expectations easing.

In the article, one woman noted, "As I've gotten older and had kids, my professional objectives have shifted: I want to earn as much as I can with the least amount of soul-sucking drama, so I can spend time with my family."

Another woman said, "I remember having drinks with a friend once and being like, 'I just want a dumb job. I just want to work for someone else, and not have to be on my toes all the time and not think so much.' ... Maybe I'm a corporate sellout, but it’s nice to have a healthy division between my job and my personal life. ... Now, when I'm not clocked in, I'm not thinking about work. And that's so freeing."

I understand that. I totally understand that.

While the intense corporate ladder climbing of the 1980s is a thing of the past (or is it?), women are still encouraged to have high-profile careers with the accompanying pressure. But here's the thing: A lot of women aren't cut out for that. I know I'm not. I like being a trained monkey.

Has anyone experienced this?

Revolutionary behavior

We're experiencing hot weather here – no surprise, it's July – but in the mornings when it's cool, Don is hard at work building more garden beds.

Currently we have ten beds in place and ready to plant, though they'll stay dormant until later this summer or early fall when I'll transplant some of the strawberries I'm potting from runners, as well as plant garlic. By next spring, however, we'll be able to start growing a whole lot more. Little by little, we're moving toward self-sufficiency here in our new (to us) home.

But rather than talk about the garden or planting garlic or potting strawberries at the moment, let's take a look at a wider issue: the desire for independence. Ultimately that's why we like having a self-sufficient farm, because we like the feeling of providing for our needs with our own labor.

And this segues into a piece written by Daisy Luther on The Organic Prepper from July 4: "Independence Is Still a Revolutionary Act."

She talks about the need to become producers, not consumers. She discusses what happens when we depend on others for our food, water, utilities, education, medical care, and other necessities.

This can only be taken so far – I doubt we'll ever be "independent" when it comes to something like brain surgery – but we've tried (or are trying) to embrace many of our necessities and bring them under our control.

More importantly, we see the handwriting on the wall when it comes to a loss of true Rights (derived from God) and an enormously unconstitutional government doing everything in its power to eradicate the limitations outlined in the Constitution and trample the Bill of Rights.

"Somehow, this land of rugged individuals has become largely populated with scared children who expect to be cared for, fed, protected, and made to feel good about themselves, all by government mandate," Daisy writes. "Many people seem to have no desire whatsoever to earn their keep, provide for their families, or take responsibility for their own safety. They expect the workplace to be one of sunshine and lollipops, with ample time off, equal pay for all, and., don’t forget, yoga with baby goats and lots of kind words for everyone. Our culture is just so incredibly dependent. And to some extent, we, the rugged independents who are left, have let this happen because the dependents are louder than us."

It's not just that dependent people are louder, it's also easier to follow the path of least resistance. Let's face it, independence is hard work. Dependency is easy.

And then Daisy wrote something very interesting:

"The most important thing is to begin to recognize the chains that are on you so that you can begin, link by link, to break them. How do you break free of the life that nearly every single person around you lives? It’s simple, yet so complicated. Here it is, the ultimate act of revolution. It is so very simple. You have to need less. When you need less, you have less to fear."

This reminds me of an anecdote from the stoic Greek philosopher Diogenes (412-323 BC) I read in "The Little, Brown book of Anecdotes": "By assiduous flattery, the hedonistic philosopher Aristippus had won himself a comfortable sinecure at the court of Dionysius, tyrant of Syracuse. One day, observing Diogenes preparing some lentils for a meager meal, Aristippus offered some worldly wisdom to his fellow sage: 'If you would only learn to compliment Dionysius, you wouldn't have to live on lentils.' Diogenes retorted, 'And if you would only learn to live on lentils, you wouldn't have to flatter Dionysius.'"

Thoreau said it more succinctly: "A man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone."

So I see this whole issue of independence as a two-pronged approach: Learning to produce more, and living on less.

"Real liberty is up to you," Daisy writes. "Use it or lose it."

Apparently this is "revolutionary behavior." What do you think?

Some thoughts on minimalism

Recently I watched an indie move on the myriad benefits of minimalism.

I'll admit, minimalism is something that has always intrigued me. Who doesn't like the idea of a streamlined, pared-down lifestyle, right? Admit it, doesn't a small part of you long to own so little that you can throw a few changes of clothes in a souped-up van and hit the road?

But in 2020, when we left our old home and moved to our new, it became abundantly clear we were nowhere near achieving that mythical standard. That's what comes of having a homestead farm, a home business, an obsession (cough cough) with books, and frankly a life.

(Yes, these boxes are all books.)

Moving was an eye-opening experience in many ways, not least of which was how many possessions we had. Downsizing from a 3600-square-foot home into a 1400-square-foot-home (and then partitioning some of that square footage for Older Daughter's suite, leaving Don and I with 1000 square feet) was also enlightening. If nothing else, it allowed us to prioritize what we used frequently vs. what we didn't, what we needed and what we didn't.

A thousand square feet of living space for two people is more than adequate. For heaven's sake, that's luxurious by international standards. We have friends with a dozen children (literally) who make do with 1400 square feet and still manage to have a gracious, welcoming, relatively uncluttered home.

What this downsizing did was allow us to sort our household possessions and delete the unnecessary. We plan to hold a whopper of a yard sale later in the summer and offload the excess. Whatever doesn't sell will get donated.

But we will still be left with a lot of stuff – not so much in the house as in the barn. In fact, the house is in decent shape, but the barn is still a chaotic mess. Some of these jumbled items are long-term storage things: Boxes of books belonging to Younger Daughter, shop tools and equipment, farm supplies, stored items, etc. But a lot of it falls into the category of, "What we were thinking by holding onto this?"

Additionally, minimalism clashes with homesteading. We'll always need tools and equipment to garden, raise livestock, preserve food, fix, create, MacGyver, and otherwise, y'know, live.

The truth, of course, is minimalism by itself solves nothing, except perhaps the chore of dusting. My thought is it has less to do with the number of things owned as it has to do with how your time is spent, the focus on career and ambition to the exclusion of family, etc. For that, the minimalist movement is worthy of praise.

Here's the good news: in cleaning, sorting, and organizing the barn, we are, in a way, minimizing our possessions. Certainly we're discerning between what we need and what we don't. Let's just say it's going to be a heckuva yard sale when the time comes.

We'll never have the pure-white, stark, bleak, barren, desolate, austere, harsh, bare, empty home (can you tell I'm not a fan?) which characterizes the minimalist movement.

Instead we'll focus on making our home cozy and welcoming, with warm colors and comfortable reading spaces and "peace within thy walls," even if it means we have a little too much stuff.

Once we have the barn sorted and organized, and once have have the things we no longer want or need taking up space, we will have minimalized to the extent we want. And that, dear readers, is the best we plan to do.

What are your thoughts on minimalism?

Tiny homes: Are they worth it?

A few days ago, an article appeared on ZeroHedge entitled "56% Of Americans Say They Would Live In A Tiny Home."

The popularity of tiny homes (defined as a living space under 400 square feet, and often as little as 60 square feet) is surging:

• 56% of Americans say they would live in a tiny home. 86% of first-time home buyers would consider a tiny home for their first home.

• 72% of home buyers would consider buying a tiny home as an investment property.

• Most appealing factors of tiny home living: 1. Affordability 2. Efficiency 3. Eco-friendliness 4. Minimalist lifestyle 5. The ability to downsize.

• Most desired tiny home amenities: 1. Heating/AC 2. Kitchen space 3. Designated bedroom 4. Laundry 5. Outdoor space.

• 53% of Americans can afford the median price for a starter home ($233,400) vs. 79% of Americans can afford the median price of a tiny home ($30,000-$60,000).

Of this list, I would put "cost" as an enormous priority. It's a lot easier to afford a $30,000 tiny home than a $300,000 suburban home. The potential for mobility also seems to be an attraction.

Tiny homes also have a lower carbon footprint, and utilities are correspondingly low -- all benefits for cost-conscious people. For folks who are "handy," a tiny home can be built DIY and customized to specific needs. Tiny home "kits" are also popular. Necessities such as heat, water, septic, and other factors must be legal, of course.

Tiny homes are being touted as a solution to climate change, as well as lower living standards promoted by social engineers.

And there's no question tiny homes can be darling.

But are they worth it?

Putting aside the very real consideration of space (or lack thereof), tiny homes have a number of strikes against them.

For their size, they are immensely heavy. If mobility is an attraction, a better investment might be a travel trailer, which are miracles of efficiency.

And speaking of investment, I've heard tiny homes do not hold their value. Unlike a stick-built home, they seldom accrue in value.

From a personal standpoint, my biggest concern is a tiny home makes it impossible to be self-sufficient, since there is no room for food storage or tool storage. This, to me, is not "simple" living.

Am I wrong? Am I being unnecessarily harsh? Please, change my mind. Tiny houses are darling and I really would like to like them.