108 Bells and a Breville Blender

I took a broken blender to my Dad's when we stopped to drop off the dog on the way to Nub's Nob for ski team weekend. "Does your Dad even expect or want this?" Matt asked, when I told him my plan. So I gave Dad a heads up, and he was, as expected, immediately enthusiastic about having a new project. I was not entirely optimistic, but I needed to get the blender out of the house, because the fact that my lovely shiny glorious Breville Blender had stopped working about 3 months after its 2 year warranty, and that the so-called "replacement part" was just a whole new pitcher and would cost almost as much as a brand new blender, was giving me rage anytime I saw or thought about that blender. Especially because maybe it was my own fault for putting parmesan cheese into the sauce too early in the blending process. And since I had to get rid of 108 items from my house before the end of the month, I packed it up and rang a bell.

But I have to go back to January 1st, to explain all this. On New Years Day, while sitting on my butt eating cookies, I decided to scroll an online article/list about New Years traditions from around the world, in hopes of finding inspiration for my New Year's Resolution, because the way my brain works, I have to have a gimmick to get motivated. About halfway down the list of 50 was a Japanese/Buddhist tradition of ringing 108 bells on New Year's Eve to clear out the old year. 

The article was quick to add this wasn't about clearing clutter from your house, but rather a symbolic release of negative desires. However, I was quick to think, "but why couldn't it be about clearing clutter?" And just like that, a plan was born. I decided to declutter, and ring a bell for each item I discarded, donated or used up. With an explanation to the family and a few loose ground rules (no credit for using ordinary items that would be replenished, but using up the "second string" items that have been hanging around forever, like the less favored scented deodorant, would qualify), the journey began. 

Yes, I literally rang a bell--part of the Christmas decor, a cutesy knick-knack my Mom had given me at some point--and tallied the items as I purged. I tried to give some attention to desires and loftier thoughts, although I have not yet studied Buddhism. Thoughts of appreciation for the things I have and of actually using the stuff I currently own, and if I can't use it, then why am I keeping it? The answer to that? It's probably genetic, and while I don't have the full hoarder impulse, I am reluctant to throw a "useful" thing away. 

But somehow, I managed to purge extra Christmas decorative items without too much guilt over whether or not it was a gift. A ludicrous quantity of pencils faced the chopping block--I don't even use pencils! I forced myself to discard any that had any type of flaw--tooth marks, too short, hard eraser, obvious cheapness, dumb cartoon characters--and cut the collection in half. I only allowed myself one bell for the pencils; taking credit for a whole dozen items felt a bit like cheating. 

By the time I decided to send the blender to Dad's house, I didn't have any expectation of a repair. I just wanted to ring another bell and get rid of that negative energy that boiled up in me every time I thought about that damned broken expensive blender. Matt asked, "How does this count as getting rid of clutter if you're just moving it to your dad's house?"

The obvious answer is that Dad's house is where clutter lives. It is where the lifetime hoard of "useful" items takes up residence. At the very least, one blender would simply disappear into the nether land of to-be-repaired TV's, speakers, tools, good-as-new-once-it's-cleaned pans, and perfectly good barn wood. Perhaps an attempt at fixing would be made. Perhaps it would join the graveyard of unfinished projects. But it would be out of my house. Not my clutter anymore. 

We returned from the long cold ski weekend with a rhubarb pie from the up north pie shop, to celebrate Dad's 88th birthday, with a dinner he made for us, of his favorite Aldi items. (Lentil soup and burnt-ends). Much to my surprise, he told me the blender was fixed. He explained about the gasket and some rubber shavings that rubbed off around the bearing, and once he cleaned it up and replaced the bearing it was just fine.

"Where did you get a bearing?" Matt asked. He still doesn't quite understand. 

"Out of a VCR" Dad said, as if this was the most normal thing ever. 

"You just had a VCR sitting around that had the same size bearing?" 

"Yeah."

Of course. Why wouldn't he? He doesn't purge his clutter and ring bells.

So now I have a working blender once again. Made a smoothie with some sad bananas and some frozen mango chunks that had been in the freezer for--ummm--years. It was delicious. 

Yes, I rang a bell for the mango.