I am not busy.

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If you looked at my calendar, you'd think I should be having a pretty relaxing day.  

Certainly there were a number of quotidian household duties -- preparing for guests tonight when another just left this morning, navigating household finances, grocery shopping and so on -- and then just writing.  A joy!  Every artist's dream day!  

So why was it that as I went to refill my mug (with fair trade locally roasted french-pressed coffee and adorable glass bottle local Idaho farm half and half) that I exhaled loudly like someone who was so stressed?

Because busyness is actually not just a product of the things we need to get done -- it how we feel about what we're doing.

If you looked at my computer, you would see that I (shamefully) had 8 tabs open.  Tabs to find a good flight deal on my upcoming Thanksgiving travels.  A tab to track the status of our first mortgage payments.  A tab with my favorite writing site open (750words.org) and a tab with New Minimalism's site open.  Then another 3 or 4 open to videos of people celebrating the CUBS WORLD SERIES VICTORY last night (my favorites are Kris Bryant making the winning catch, the man listening to the game at his father's gravestone and everyone of anyone over 90 celebrating -- you are welcome.).

But seriously guys, I was doing it to myself.  

I fell into the classic busy-hole of attempting to multitask and instead ended up distracting myself beyond measure as time flew by.  When it was all of the sudden lunch time and all of my most important tasks were still undone?  It made me feel scattered, unaccomplished and *gasp* even busier.  Which is the great paradox of feeling so busy -- you often feel it the most when you are not actually getting things done.

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Bodhi knows how important sleep is.

But sometimes you just ARE busy, right?

On the flip side just this Monday I woke up early, lit a candle, turned on the classical station and drank my tea as I wrote thousands of original words for our book.  All this before the sun rose (to be fair, it rises suuuuper late these days in Boise).  

I then took my dog for a long walk and made Cam and myself a nice lunch.  After lunch I tackled a group of daunting emails and then navigated personal and work financial to-dos for the month.  I felt like I was getting everything done -- and that relaxed me. 

Heck, in college I was the captain of a division 1 team, worked a side job, wrote an honors thesis and graduated a term early and I rarely felt busy.  I was always just focused on the task right in front of me.  At the pool, I swam.  In the library, I studied.  In the lab, I worked.  I was proactive, scheduled thoughtfully, got a good night sleep for sure.  But then I just sat down and got shit done.  My college self (and even Monday self) would have laughed at my today self being such whiner pants.

The good news is it's easy to turn A busy day around by doing these two things:

1) Stop doing everything and start doing one thing.
Make a list and start checking things off.  Do not, I repeat, DO NOT open another browser tab until the previous task is complete.  Relish your feeling of accomplishment.  

2) Tell yourself you're not busy.  
Literally, say it aloud: "I am not busy." That's what I ended up saying to myself as I reheated my coffee, just after I startled myself with that exasperated exhale.  Hearing myself say"I am not busy." helped me to settle into that sensation.  Instead of rushing back to my computer I took 3 seconds to lean down and smell my coffee and then to look out at our fall yard.  My schedule is full, but my mind determines how I feel about that.  And, I am NOT busy.

BTR: A Family Kitchen

Kyle writing to share with you another Behind the Redesign.  In Behind the Redesigns we like to divulge all our little design secrets in the hopes that you'll be able to incorporate some of these tips into your own spaces.  You may have noticed that there have been fewer BTRs posted in the past several months.  That is because we have been saving many client projects for the New Minimalism book!  But we were able the dig into the archives for today's Behind the Redesign, which details the kitchen session of two super cute soon-to-be-parents.  We'll call them Melissa and Adam.  

When we first toured Melissa and Adam's kitchen, we saw that although the surfaces were not overwhelmed with stuff, behind closed doors the cabinets were filled to capacity and the storage was not functional for their day-to-day needs.  With their first baby on the way, we also needed to create space for infant-related gear.

Here is a rough sketch of the kitchen floorplan to give you a sense of layout.

Above left is the before image of the cabinets above the microwave.  As you can see in the floorplan, these cabinets are right in the middle of everything, and should be used for highly-accessed items.  Instead, they were storing serving dishes that were used once a month, and acting as a too-small food pantry.

In the after photo, above right, we designated one cabinet for all things baby.  We know from working with young families (and our nieces and nephews), that baby gear is abundant with small pieces of glass and plastic that require frequent washing.  We wanted to ensure plenty of space for the baby items to spread out and have room to dry.  We relocated the serving dishes to a cabinet near the sink.  We designated the previous food pantry for mugs and glassware.   The food we moved to a cabinet that was larger and better suited for food access since it was above the large countertop where food prep takes place.

The above images are the drawers beneath the microwave.  Again, these drawers are a prime location, but were being used for non-daily items.  The uppermost drawers in the kitchen are the creme de la creme of kitchen real estate.  What happened here, and what typically happens when one moves into a new space, is that our clients just guessed which drawers should be used for what.  Like the junk drawer and first aid drawers in the before photo (left), a few items in these categories needed a home and this was the simplest, in-the-moment solution.  But then, like bunnies, soon the items multiplied to take over the entire drawer.  As we teased apart the storage needs of the kitchen, and saw that there was available storage in other areas of the home, we allocated this drawer space to the essentials of the kitchen - utensils and cooking tools.

Again, the biggest difference in the photos above is the relocation of items.  You can see how the glassware had too much space in the before photo (left), and meanwhile the pantry was cramped in a cabinet across the kitchen.  We swapped the two, and advised Melissa and Adam to make meals using their existing pantry supplies in order to reduce the overall volume (you can see in the after photo, right, that items are stacked, which is not ideal for accessibility).  

Above, creating more cabinet space for pantry items means that countertops can remain clear except for a limited number of quick-grab items.  Clutter attracts clutter.  So keeping countertops clear means that they are more likely to stay clear.  Plus cleared countertops are far easier to wipe down.

Life in the Slow Lane

On a hike to fly fish in one of Idaho's many rivers... 

Cam and I moved…  Again!  

This time we left our little chunk of paradise in the Bay for a slower, more mountainous way of life in Boise, Idaho. 

Cam and I have for years sought to really put down roots in the Bay Area.  We’d imagined settling there for good, buying a house, starting a family, raising our kids and dogs among the redwoods.  We love California for a couple of reasons: the insane and diverse natural beauty, the environmental / social activist culture, and, most of all, our dear group of friends who’ve become our family over time.

And yet, something was always missing.  

Life is complicated, until it’s simple.

The truth about a new minimalist lifestyle is that when you deal with and consider and think through your stuff, you can’t help but gain clarity in other areas of your life.  In the past year it became completely clear that Cam and I were ready for the next phase in our life. 

We wanted to be somewhere slower, somewhere affordable, somewhere with great and expansive natural beauty and — in a dream world — be close to family.

Our Idaho roots

I’ve been visiting Idaho for as long as Cam and I have been together.  His father was raised in Boise and almost his entire extended family remained there.  We went hiking in the Sawtooth Mountains, skiing at Bogus Basin, snowshoeing in McCall.  When Cam’s parents decided to return to Boise after raising him in New Jersey, we were intrigued.  

Boise, while we loved the place, hadn't been on our short list of possible, more affordable locations we would trade in the Bay for.   Our Idaho trips over the past year showed us a new way of life that was open to us: a slower, more affordable pace of life balanced with a vibrant downtown, a line-free regional airport within biking distance and the eternally enthusiastic presence of college students at nearby Boise State.

Once we opened our hearts to the possibility of life in Idaho, the stars aligned in ways we couldn't have imagined. 

We found a home that we love with a sweeping backyard, tumbling down to a creek with our very own water wheel.  We adopted the sweetest, most precious and adventurous dog in the world. 

We walk along the river, have dinners with family, never worry about traffic, bike anywhere in the city we need to go, and spend about 40% less on our mortgage than we did on our SF rent.  We have a whole new sector of this beautiful country to explore and come to know.  We have a small but amazing group of friends who have taken us rafting and hiking and taught me to fly fish (which, by the way, is every bit as romantic and beautiful and meditative experience as the movies make it out to be).  

Ohana is everything.

My older sister recently surprised me by flying to Boise for my birthday.  If that wasn't a gift enough, she gave me a shirt with the perfect saying on it: "Ohana is Everything."  Ohana, Hawaiian for family.

While Cam’s family is without a doubt my family now as well, it was hard to settle away from my folks and siblings.  

Which is why Cam and I agreed that as often I needed/wanted/desired to visit family, I would.  I’m on the plane to Chicago right now to help my folks move. I’ll be back in November and for Christmas (with sweet Bodhi in tow).  Part of living in Idaho meant that we would have real space for all of my family to visit whenever and for as long as they desire.  I knew anywhere we ended up long-term (if it wasn’t in my parent’s basement, as I think my dad would have loved) I needed my family to feel totally comfortable and at home in my home. I wanted a real guest room and a real bathroom and an experience of ease the would lure them to the Treasure Valley and keep them here for a long while.

Our little mutt is part terrier and part something that will jump in the river after ducks!

I look forward to sharing with you guys a new way of looking at and living the NM lifestyle, from a much less urban city in a stand alone home, which we own, in the mountain west.  While I’ve always been so proud of my Chicago roots (go Cubs go!), it feels brand new to be an adult not living on the Pacific Coast and all that stands for.  My hope is that these new learnings and adjustments will connect us with and serve a broader range of people seeking out a simple, easy, inspired life!

Big Changes AHEAD

Major moves taking place over here at New Minimalism!

Cary here to share the biggest news ever:  Cam and I moved to Boise, Idaho!  If you’re thinking to yourself, "Wait, didn’t you just move?"  You are right. 

Our new Idaho backyard!

Earlier this year, Cam and I moved across the Golden Gate Bridge to Marin County.  This was a really beautiful and really challenging time in our lives.  But I will say that this mini-move was the stepping stone that gave us the clarity and impetus to make our real, long-desired, big move to Boise.

When we first moved out of our rent controlled apartment in San Francisco, we knew, intellectually and emotionally, that leaving San Francisco proper meant we were completing a certain phase of life.  Within the Bay Area's housing market, prices have skyrocketed, and giving up rent control made this move effectively irreversible.  Though it was made far less scary knowing we would be a mere 20 miles north, we would never again be able to afford the type of apartment we enjoyed in the city. 

The baby step of moving to Marin untethered us from life in the city and made us savor the quiet evenings of a non-urban landscape.  It forced us to acknowledge that we deeply longed for a place we could put down roots, build community, and care for a piece of land that would feed and nourish us over time.

We are overjoyed with the opportunity to explore a slower, more affordable way of life.  I am so ready and excited to adventure throughout this new landscape will be sharing with you all the lifestyle tips I learn along the way. 

But, what does this means for New Minimalism?

We are using the remaining months of 2016 to adjust to these new changes and set forth a proper vision for 2017.  And in the meantime:

1) We will have limited in-person sessions: From now through the end of 2016, we have only 10 remaining sessions available with the original decluttering duo, Cary & Kyle.  Please reach out to hello@newminimalism.com if you’d like to snag one. We plan to continue in-person sessions in a new incarnation in 2017.  

2) We are hard at work on our beloved book, to be published with Sasquatch Books in January of 2018.  It’s going to be a gorgeous, full color, photography-filled book about our process and client work.  We’ve poured our hearts and souls into the writing (and now the photoshoots) and will keep you up to date as timing gets closer to its release.

3) We are focused on bringing quality, consistent content to the blog and Instagram! We'd love to hear from you in the comments about what questions you'd like answered and which topics most inspire you!

Thank you dear readers for being patient while we have quietly (almost silently) undergone this transition over the past few months.  If you would like to read more specifically about my move to Idaho (and the newest 4-legged member of our family), I will be publishing a more detailed post next week!

One Small Habit: BYOJ (Bring Your Own Jar)

New Minimalism doesn't end after you walk out your front door, that's simply the starting point.

Decluttering your home and donating items is the first step in cultivating a mindful, gentle way of being on this earth.  Many of the habits we practice at home, we also do our best to bring with us into the rest of our lives.  Today's small habit is a perfect example of this.  

One small habit that Kyle and I both deeply value is BYOJ: bring your own jar.  

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In this habit, one essentially never leaves home without some kind of container with them.  Kyle and I both alternate between simply using our water bottles (which we also always have on us) or a mason jar.  This jar serves as a personal, always-available reusable receptacle for any food or drink item you may purchase when out and about.  

So far, we've used our jars for: smoothies, acai bowls, coffee (like Phillz Mint Mojito above!), tea, water, avocados, oatmeal, salad bar items, and freshly-foraged berries, just to name a few.

It's unimportant exactly what brand or style you use -- to each their own preference.  What does matter is that the jar is durable (it will be bouncing around in your backpack/bag/bike panniers after all), and that it has a good sealing lid (my purse still smells like cardamom on warm days from a slightly leaky jar of chai latte this past spring).

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New habits undoubtedly require a little effort in their originating stages.  But their elegance and beauty comes from the effortlessness of habitualized behaviors -- when it stops being work and starts being second nature.

It takes a little bit of moxie to offer up your jar at restaurants, coffee shops, on planes or at grocery stores.  Do it anyways.  Not only is it a good deed done for our earth (avoiding the constant stream of disposables), it's also more pleasant to eat and drink out of a lovely glass or aluminum container and far easier to travel with than a paper or plastic version.

Each person, each time they use a jar in public, they strengthen the ecological awareness of their community.  When you BYOJ, you not only ensure that far fewer products end up in our landfills (or recycling or compost, which still require resources to process) but you also can't help but start up a conversation or set a small example for your fellow consumers.  You are one more person moving the spectrum, ever-so-slightly, towards environmental compassion and responsibility.  And that small act means a lot.

When Breath Becomes Air

My husband, nature, quiet time -- three of my favorite things.

"You have to figure out what's most important to you."

I (Cary) just finished reading the extraordinary memoir "When Breath Becomes Air" by the late Dr. Paul Kalanithi.  Kalanithi passed away last April from lung cancer, within a year of the birth of his daughter and his own graduation from neurosurgical residency.  During the brief period between his diagnosis and death Kalanithi wrote this book, with excruciating awareness and sublime honesty, about what it is that makes a life worth living.  

The quote above comes from Kalanithi's oncologist, referred to in the book as "Emma."  Kalanithi asks Emma often about statistics and projections for his illness; he seeks out solid footing in numbers and timelines.  Emma understands that what Kalanithi really wants to know is this: how ought he navigate his new life on this foreshortened timeline?  Her simple, sage advice:

"You have to figure out what's most important to you."  

I was drawn to this book months ago but put it down midway due to a period of loss in my own life.  When I picked it up again, hungry to put words to my own experience, I was drawn in particular to the grace with which Kalanithi grieved the chasm between how he'd imagined his life would be and how it was actually unfolding.  

For me, the bargaining stage of grief was the most illuminating.  In this stage, what it is that one holds most dear becomes crystal clear.  For the first time in my life, I knew with total certainty what I would trade, what I would give up, all of the things that I would, without a thought, toss out the window if it meant that I could have what I lost back.

And at that point, the idea of "stuff' and what we believe we "need" reveals itself in a pure way.  Stuff isn't bad; it brings us comfort and joy, beauty and ease.  But stuff is worth precious little, if anything at all, when we are stripped naked in front of life's big events. 

Minimalism, like grief, is a powerful tool for uncovering what matters most.

"When Breath Becomes Air" is written by a doctor and a philosopher.  Yet more than any book I've ever read about simplification or decluttering or design, Kalanithi's words get at the heart of what Kyle and I aim to do through New Minimalism.  

On the surface, we help people declutter and design their spaces.  What we really do is guide overwhelmed, fatigued folks through a process of peeling back layers (of stuff, commitments, habits, beliefs) until they have clarity around what matters most to them.  

In our sessions, it's typical for our clients to hit roadblocks.  As the morning's coffee fades and they sit, surrounded by so much stuff which they've chosen to bring into their lives, clients often struggle with deciding what should stay and go.  They're adrift in a sea of reasons of why they "should" keep something, why it came into their lives to begin with, and how much they gave up in order to have these items.  

This is where considering the brevity of life is so valuable.  

Trying to sort through million potential futures in order to determine an item should stay ("I might need this some day if I...") is a herculean task.  However, armed with the awareness of the shortness of life, we are instantly called back to our cores, to the very center of what matters.  

Here our clients can step back and say, "Oh, this is what matters to me: how I spend my days; how I feel when I first open my eyes in the morning; how I respond to the cries of my child; how much mental and emotional space I feel in my own life so I can bolster those I love in their lives.  Which of my things help me do that?"    

Which is precisely when the extraneous stuff goes flying out the door.  Spare bathrobes, old shin guards, extra pots and pans, old paperwork, unfinished projects -- what are these objects other than things which are blocking the way or at least fouling up the path as we try to live a full and meaningful life?

The author, Dr. Paul Kalanithi.

There is no reason not to follow your heart.

It would be debilitating to live life with your own mortality in the forefront of your mind each day.  But don't we owe it to ourselves to think about the shortness of life more often?  To, on occasion, strip bare our lives and consider really, truly, deeply, just what matters to us?  And then to do everything in our power to live our lives honoring and investing in what we value?  With however much time we have?

As Steve Jobs said, "Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart."

A BIG ANNOUNCEMENT!

Hi Friends!

Kyle here to share with you some very exciting news!  It's been 6-months in the making, and now New Minimalism can officially say,  WE HAVE A BOOK DEAL!!!!

That's right, we're writing a BOOK!

It's been a dream of ours to put all these thoughts and ideas down onto something more tangible than the blog, and we are BEYOND ecstatic to make this dream a reality.

Most of our client-free time this summer devoted to writing, which explain fewer posts of client work on Instagram.  

But you will be seeing more Instagram posts of Cary and I doing exciting things, like this!

The book will be a full color photo book, detailing the New Minimalism philosophy and process.  We are publishing with the amazing talent at Sasquatch Books, located in Seattle, WA.  

The book is planning to hit stands in January of 2018 (yes, 2018, that's not a typo).  So while it's a more than a year away, we still wanted to share this super exciting news with you, our nearest and dearest supporters!

xo forever and ever,

Kyle (& Cary)

Evolution of an Entry

Hi lovely readers!  Kyle, the design side of New Minimalism here to share the evolution of my apartment's entry.

Let's face it, first impressions are important.  A warm smile or firm handshake may set the tone for interactions, but at home, your entry is the first impression.  

Your entry should welcome you back into your home, back into your own place of respite and rejuvenation. Taking the time to improve your entry benefits you every time you cross your threshold; when you open your front door you immediately feel at home and at ease.  

Even if you are renting, you can take some simple actions to make your home welcoming first and foremost for yourself, but also for others.

When we first moved in, my partner Johnnie and I embraced the white walls of our entry.  But after some time, we realized a few things:

1. The dismal hallway in the building which leads up to our apartment was soul-sucking and depressing (and reminiscent of The Shining).
2. Parking our bikes in the hall closet (and the inevitable bumps and bangs associated with large objects in small spaces) resulted in a number of scuff marks on the walls.  

As such, we basically came to understand that our entry hallway was a perfectly bite-sized opportunity to infuse some fun and personality in our space, and counter effect the dark and dingy hallway of our building.

When we first started thinking of ways to improve the hallway, our goal was simple: to make it “really fucking cute.”  I had already painted a pink accent wall in the apartment, and thankfully Johnnie was on-board with the pink action.  We decided to start there.  PINK!  Pink….plus…some other color.  Our 70’s-style apartment come pre-appointed with dark brown and burnt orange accents.  We are already pretending that the burnt orange countertops don’t exist, so what about dark brown? 

Thankfully Johnnie noted that pairing pink with dark brown was too much like the Neapolitan ice cream of our youth.  So gray it is!

We chose to put the gray on the lower half of the wall to cover those scuff marks, placing it on an angle to give it more interest.  

During a big trip last summer, Johnnie and I found this amazing and uniquely-colored Afghani runner in Copenhagen (of all places) and added it to the mix. 

After what felt like hours of online sourcing, we found these modern and sturdy hooks from Horne.  

Then Johnnie painted the numbers on our door pink, leaving the "C" alone, to remind us of our humble roots.  One friend said the effect makes the numbers look like candy - yes!  We loved it.  Our experience of walking through the door was improved 200%.  

Yay, the entryway is complete! 

Or is it...?

As the months went on, something seemed to be missing from the space.  Although it was, in fact, "really fucking cute," it wasn't totally singing for me.  And don't get me wrong, I wasn't losing sleep over the matter.  But I did have the urge to continue designing the space. 

Image previously hung in my entry.

I originally added a beautiful image by the photographer Lindsay Hile, but it didn't have the desired effect.  The entryway is a place to pass through, and the photo was hard to see, nor could it be fully-appreciated.  

Then another friend at random told me about a monochromatic mountain scape she saw painted on a wall, and I realized we could do that in our hall, essentially enlarging and incorporating the idea of the photograph into the actual wall.  

So it was decided to add another gray layer to the wall to create a mountain mural.  

Ta-da!  The finished result.  Entering our home has turned into a complete joy.  It feels totally reflective of us.

AND NOW IT FINALLY FEELS COMPLETE.

But who knows, maybe next year it will be navy.

You Get To Choose

"You get to choose how you feel.  You get to choose how you feel about everything."

This is one of my favorite quotes of all time.  Danielle LaPorte in her sultry-voiced, slam poet wisdom said this in a recorded interview several years ago.*  I have relistened to it no less than a dozen times.

You get to choose how you feel about everything.

This wisdom can be applied to everyday shit-hitting-the-fan kind of moments (Bay Area traffic, I'm looking at you).  But on a deeper level, I think it's a powerful tool for reflecting on our stuff.  And specifically:

How your stuff makes you feel.

This past year I've been treading through the decluttering landmine of Childhood Memorabilia.  My parents decided to downsize and moved out of my childhood home this past August.  This meant that all my photos, art projects, writing, diaries, awards, etc. which had to-date lived in "my room" were suddenly mine to deal with.  

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A daily, yet precious memory from childhood.  Around the dinner table with my siblings: Lauren, Robin, Zack and myself.  Yep, I know I had killer bangs. 

Arriving at my San Francisco apartment inside of a box and large suitcase were memories from every part of my life, from birth until I moved to California at 24 years old: every sports ribbon I'd earned, every photo I'd ever taken, even my first pair of shoes.

Where Do I Begin?

Opening these boxes up, it felt like everything inside them was a treasure: a marker of a time in my life that could never be recreated.  Each object or written page felt like a crucial piece in the puzzle of "who I am."

Not only that, everything had been kept for so long already.  They'd been stored for decades in Illinois and then lovingly boxed up and brought to California by my mom.  

Obviously, this would all have to stay.  Or would it?

There is a psychological principle called the Endowment Effect (look at me, mom and dad -- I'm using my college education!) which says that the longer we've had something in our possession, the more value it holds in our eyes.  Combine this with a healthy dose of nostalgia and suddenly it seems unfathomable to part with a single item from our personal history.

And yet, in my attempt to match my actions with my words (aka: trying not to be a total hypocrite), I decided to question everything and go through each item, one by one.

The Oriole cabin at Camp Lake Hubert circa 1993.  A brief but catalytic and deeply happy memory.  Also, this photo was mailed to me by my camp bestie, Annelyse, during our 3 year penpal spell.  Rad, right?

Question Everything

On the surface, each item was of somewhat equal merit: it was from my past and had, at some point, been deemed worthy of saving.  

So to help me through this process I called on Danielle LaPorte and decided to pay attention exclusively to how the item made me feel.  

While everything was tinged with a bit of nostalgia, some created a sense of real happiness and joy while others fell flat and others still called up for me strong feelings of sadness or isolation or embarrassment (ah, adolescence).  

The Criteria

The most joyful surprise of this entire process was noticing the threads of values and narratives which have remained constant throughout my life.  Nearly every item I kept spoke to the traits and values that I still love about myself: family, creativity, athletics, adventure, and writing.  

The things I kept: hysterical little notebooks that I've written creative stories and diary entries throughout my life, my songbook from camp, the journal from my NOLS trip in Wyoming, elementary school sports team photos (me and my tiny legs in huge shin guards with a soccer ball on my knee), elementary school class photos (some of those teachers shaped my life more than they could ever know -- Miss Badran, if for some crazy reason you happen to be reading this, thank you), a couple of my prized swimming awards, and nearly every family photo.  Just typing out this list makes me smile!

What I Let Go

1. Items that "fell flat".  This category mostly includes objects of achievement, ie: reports I got good grades on but could not care less about their content or don't even recall creating.  Also, objects from areas that aren't important to me: participation awards for mandatory science fairs and spelling bees, photos of people who I knew briefly and never kept up with, yearbooks in general.  

2. Things that made me feel negative emotions.  Photos from my surprise 16th birthday (all of that attention as a teenager still in braces felt mortifying), inappropriate notes from friends during my rebellious years (a shameful defiant, bratty period), a slew of generally ugly photos from said teenage/braces years (don't worry, there are still plenty in our family albums that my kids can tease me about).

On the shores of Lake Superior (my favorite place in the world) with my siblings (3 of my favorite people in the world). 

What's Your Story?

I'm not encouraging a false sense of who we once were or a rewriting of history.  That time I snuck out in eighth grade and scared the crap out of my parents who then grounded me forever?  I will never forget that. But I also don't need to be continually faced with reminders of who I was, frozen in a particular time period during my personal evolution.  Of course, I still suffer, I still feel sad, but I choose not to have things that trigger those emotions in my home. 

As humans, we are given the gift of narrative.  We might think that we tell events exactly as they were, but we don't.  We tell things as we saw them, through our own eyes from our perspective based on our own values and stories.  And so I'm deciding to only surround myself with things that create and inspire a positive narrative in my life.  

*PS- This quote was from Ms. LaPorte's interview with Mastin Kipp on The Daily Love Extravaganza 2012.  I have this saved to my iTunes but unfortunately could not find a live link!

Sunset's Celebration Weekend: A Recap

It's Kyle, the design arm of New Minimalism, here to share a peek into Sunset Magazine's Celebration Weekend 2016!  

After holding Celebration Weekend for 18 years at their old Menlo Park HQ (read about how we helped them declutter in preparation from their move here), this was an inaugural event at Cornerstone Sonoma, where Sunset has relocated their official test gardens. 

It was so gratifying to have the opportunity to design a booth that would visually capture what we are all about.  After an initial concept was created, we borrowed everything from our own living rooms (and the living rooms of willing friends and family...thank you!) so that we didn't have to buy anything new.  Can you believe it?  The only thing we bought were the lemons and limes for our water cooler.  

Along with our official booth, we were asked to be one out of five (!) speakers presenting our ideas at the Home Stage.   We put our brains together to determine the best talking points for the Sunset crowd, and then we had our graphic designer, Elizabeth West design some beautiful handouts to accompany each point (watercolor background and redesigned logo by Flight Design).   

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We spent hours writing and then practicing our speech, and were so excited (nervous) when it finally came time to present.  Our attentive audience really made the entire experience -- asking questions, engaging with our philosophies -- it was so rewarding!  The editor of the Home section, Joanna, even said that we were the Home Stage's most-talked about and well-attended presentation for the whole weekend...what an honor!

Pictured above, are Cary and her mom, who flew out from Chicago to attend!  

All in all, we had such a wonderful time at this event.  The hours of preparation and hard work was more than worth it.  We love Sunset and everything it stands for, and can't wait for more events like this in the future!  Check out Sunset Magazine's event page for future events.