The Junk Drawer

When I designed our new kitchen, I included 2 junk drawers. The contractor pointed out that an extra drawer would encourage extra junk. I agreed, but that's what I wanted.

Junk drawers are a jumble of scissors, small tissue packs, bobby pins, matches, and sticks of gum. Batteries, a measuring tape, ear buds,  phone chargers, and random keys. Patches for river rafts and air mattresses, a tiny screwdriver for eyeglass repairs. Andrew's pacifier clip, and multiple lipsticks.

They are also the landing spot for things that serve no practical purpose, but have no other place to go.

In our home, those include a small plastic eagle we bought on a coal train ride in West Virginia. A  key chain with Margaret's and my photo on it. A tiny Magic 8 ball. Jack's kindergarten ID. A Darth Vader pen. Assorted novelty erasers. A headless Lego guy. Tim's first Blackberry that Margaret used to play to with, pretending she was a spy.

I straighten the junk drawer every now and then when it gets out of control. This gives me a chance to sift, sort, and remember. If these little things were packed away in a box, I'd likely never see them again, and I appreciate being able to touch them and move them about.

I know they will always be there because it is proven that no one ever cleans a junk drawer except for Mom. Sure, Tim will sigh and claim there are NO MORE NAIL CLIPPERS when he is looking right at them; he'll shuffle some stuff around, but he's not going to toss anything.

I like order as much as the next person, but I also love the little family museum I root through every day.

Now were did those scissors go?

Organization Inspiration

I love an organized home. That has been one of the challenges of having a new baby. I had grown accustomed to having things stay in their places for the most part. But now my living room looks like this every day:


The adjacent kitchen doesn't fare any better, because
he can tear apart it apart in record speed. I am reminding myself to surrender to this season because I do know that it's only temporary.

However, I still love organizational strategies, and I thought I'd share one of mine that really works!

Tim and I had a folder stuffed with recipes that were printed off the computer, ripped out of magazines and newspapers, and on recipe cards. Each time we wanted to cook something, we would rummage through the pile looking for our tried and true recipes, but they got lost amidst scraps of paper and the many recipes there was NO WAY we would ever get around to making.

Often, Tim and I found ourselves asking each other, in frustrated tones, "Did you put the recipe for X back?" Later we'd find it in another stack of papers, stuck to the fridge, or shoved somewhere in the folder.

Next, I tried putting everything on the computer, but I found it awkward to cook while looking at a screen, and I didn't want to let go of some special old recipe cards from family members.

The solution that has worked for us the past 3 years is surprisingly low-tech. The reason it works so well is that it's crystal clear to both cooks how to use it, so we each follow the system!

Supplies:
Large 3 ring binder
Tried and true recipes on cards, printouts or from magazines (I suggest being selective and only including recipes you will cook!)
Plastic sleeve protectors
Sharpie

Put 2 recipes in each sleeve, one facing front one facing back. The order is not important because all recipes will be equally accessible. Category is not important either. My previous attempts categorized things by type of dish, but I find this much simpler. Because there aren't hundreds and thousands of recipes, they won't get lost.

With a Sharpie, number the plastic sleeves. (Remember when I made that ice cream cake for Jack's 12th b-day?)




Write or type up a table of contents with a name of dish and the recipe number. We have about 75 recipes so far.

When we need a recipe, we look at the table of contents to find out what number the recipe is, then take out the sleeve to cook with in the kitchen. A bonus is that if we splatter on it, it wipes clean.

Because the number is on the sleeve, the recipe always finds its way back to the proper place in the binder.

I use Pinterest and magazines to find new recipes to try, and IF they make the cut, they get added to the binder. I hope someone finds this ridiculously simple idea helpful. What is your favorite way to organize recipes?

My LOVE of streamlining and organization led me to discover an awesome deal on a HUGE "Bundle" of online resources that includes eBooks, eCourses, and even printables to help me in my home. While my goal was organization, I was thrilled to find out that it included MANY other topics of interest to me as well: home decor, goal setting, recipe books, saving money, parenting, and even faith. It feels like Christmas in April to me! Don't let the "Homemaking" title fool you. There is something for everyone here! There are only a few days left in which to purchase this bundle, so I wanted to be sure to share it with you here: 

The 6 Stages of Food Storage Container Ownership:

 

1)      Confidence and Grandiosity: My containers match! They are new!  I have a container zone and a lid zone. Any items that do not speak to me with their usefulness and beauty will land on the donation pile. The streamlined organization I now see reflects the order and contentment of my life. There is nothing I can’t do! I will savor my time with them, and keep them in their unsullied state. Jaunty shelf liner adds to my general awesomeness!

2)  Enjoyment: As I drift to sleep this first night, I know I have a kick-ass cabinet full of containers to meet all of my food storage needs. Bonus points: Pretty Colors! Extra Extra Credit: Labels!

3) Reality, Confusion, and Bargaining: So maybe I don’t have time to stack the bottoms in concentric circles every time. Sure, I throw them in, slam the door, and hope for the best, but every container has a mate. Of this I am sure. Gah! Lids have started rolling to the black hole in the back. Perhaps I must adjust my plan. I PROMISE to store each container with its lid on. Sure it takes up more space, but never again shall they part.

4) Denial: I do not recognize anything in this cabinet! Are kids stealing my stuff? Who has replaced my beautiful containers with one corn nib, a kit for making homemade popsicles, a sesame noodles container from Whole Foods, and a black Lean Cuisine tray? This is NOT MY CABINET. THIS IS NOT A THING OF BEAUTY! All I want to do is put my crappy food away, so it can be rejected again tomorrow.

5) Despair:   If one more plastic thing falls on me when I open this door, I will torch this crap. You say the fumes are bad for me? Whatevs.

6) Acceptance: Today the dishwasher melted my last perfectly sized container. The only ones left will hold either a full-sized lasagna or a grape. All matchmaking attempts have failed and my unpartnered pile has grown in size but shrunk in usefulness. I will breathe through my frustration. I will acknowledge that organized storage containers are not part of my life. That Nothing Gold can Stay. I will use tin foil as a cover. And perhaps someday soon, I will dream of the future and Google plastic-ware with attached lids.