Take Care of the Bacon, Y'All!

I think I got this from Merlin Mann. It works.

You already know what spam is--it's the stuff you don't want. Well, there are less-important emails you also received from organizations and other stuff you signed up for, but you don't really want to read it often. This stuff is called bacon.

Bacon is really annoying in the inbox. I really just want to see email I'm interested in reading in my inbox. So I decided to do something about it. Since I use Outlook, I created a rule that puts emails from certain email addresses into a special folder called "Bacon" (oddly enough). I've placed this folder beneath my JunkMail folder. As new bacon arrives in my inbox, I add the new email to the rule I created.

Now when I check email, I see the emails I'm most interested in when looking at my Inbox. I then use the Unread Mail filter (saved to favorites) to quickly review all my Bacon and see if I want to read any of it. Otherwise, I can quickly delete.

I also have emails filing themselves upon arrival, and read them all in the Unread Mail filter. This is especially handy if you can predict the subject line (especially from mailing lists that put a prefix in the subject), or if the email is always from or sent to a specific email address.

This all makes email much more painless!

What other tricks do you use to help with your influx of emails? Please share in the comments!

A Dream

I had a very interesting dream the other night. It was brief, yet very emotionally vivid. I don't often dream of such topics, yet I've been so troubled by the violence in the Middle East--maybe my brain was looking for some kind of resolution.

To begin, understand that the world in this dreamscape differs dramatically from the world in which we live. Here were the "facts" in my dream:

• One of the worst things a Muslim or Jew could do cultuerally would be to use a comb that had been used by one in the other group. Kind of like how throwing a shoe is a significant form of disrespect.
• Muslims and Jews wear a small piece of metal shaped something like a ring in their hair near their temple--on opposite sides. These rings are incredibly significant, and one would never go without wearing one, or wearing it on the "wrong" side.

It wasn't clear in my dream which side was appropriate for which group. I should explain that my dreams are never very visual; they are more "situational." I experience in dreams what I do when reading; I don't dream in color, and images are never very distinct. I tend to know who someone is simply because I know who they are--not that they look like the person I know them to be. Also, sometimes I am a participant in the dream, sometimes I'm simply an observer, and sometimes I go back and forth. In this dream, I'm only an observer.

OK, so here's the dream. It's brief:

* * *

The setting is somewhere in the Middle East--somewhere where Muslims and Jews live in proximity to each other. Out in the open, as though it were a market or something. Daytime.

There is a small, simple stage with side curtains and a back curtain. Two men stand on the stage: one is Jewish and one is Muslim, but it's not clear which is which (see how odd my dreams are?). They are doing some kind of impromptu performance. They are both passionate.

One of the men pulls out a comb and runs it through his hair. He hands it to the other man. The second man then runs the comb through his own hair. The crowd gasps.

The men then simultaneously flick the "rings" out of the hair at their temples, and they ping, ping, ping on the stage. A much louder gasp.

* * *

It was clear to me in the dream that these two men passionately yearned for peace. While coming from different faiths, they did this significant show of unity. The comb through both of their hair connected them. The flicking of the rings signified a refusal to any longer appear separate. While the image of the dream was very brief, it felt at the end that this ripple would continue to travel beyond them, and would not be stopped. People would tell the story of what they saw, and somehow understanding and Grace would travel with the story.

I long for a world where that happens.

"First Date?"

I wasn't expecting a first date, but there it is. Josh was out of town; was I cheating on him? I was ironing clothes and getting cleaned up to look just right, taking great care with all appearances, there was even talk of mouthwash on Facebook. Being received positively was so important! What kind of first impression would I make? Would there be another meeting? Would the deal get closed?

OK, enough with the double-entendres (which really means I'm running out of ways to stretch it any more without horrible sentence structure). If you're up to date on my life at all, you've probably already figured out I'm talking about the house: I listed on January 2 and today was the first open house.

While the place was in very good shape already, I wanted it to be perfect. This is a great place for my perfectionism to come out. I've had a basket of clothes thats needed ironing for months. I didn't want the basket in the laundry room, so I ironed everything. By the time I was done doing that and laundry, it was quite late, and the only dirty clothes in the house were those on my body. While I don't achieve it anywhere near what I'd like, I very much enjoy "a place for everything and everything in its place."

I finished organizing some random packing boxes, and some loose odds and ends that hadn't made their way into boxes yet. I cleaned this and that, vacuumed the entire main floor and polished all the floors (which really needed it—I hadn't done it since construction was done).

I planned out everything to be done today, and got to bed late. This morning I did a few more things, then went to church. On the way home I stopped and got a wrap for lunch and flowers for the kitchen. I baked cookies (yes, I'm a completely house-selling whore), prepared the cats for our trek, turned the heat up to 70° and turned on all the lights. A few minute before 1 Connie showed up, and I stowed the three cats and me into my car; we were going to spend some quality time. Everything passed Connie's inspection, so we were off.

Connie found out last week that there was going to be an Orchard Ridge Parade of Homes, and she got my house into it—great timing! So while she showed my house, I went to look at most of the others (there were 12 total). I got to 8 of them in two hours.

It was fun: I got an opportunity to see what the market by me was like. I'm happy to state that I'm positioned quite well. I enjoyed talking with the other Realtors, and was up-front that I was another house on the tour; no one seemed to mind. I walked into one house and a woman was ironing. Hm. I wasn't aware that there were two houses on the tour that were being shown by the sellers. It was even ok with them; we had a nice chat. He enjoyed showing off his house, which deserved it: they'd done a nice job with it.

One beautiful, large, expensive house was vacant and all the storm windows were open! I informed the Realtor and we went about closing them all. Three of the houses had clear pet odor smells. I asked them if they'd like a recommendation (www.odormute.com), and all three jumped at it. It felt good to be able to help some people out. Some of the properties were in pretty rough shape (one in particular), and one small house was absolutely stunning: new maple floors (strip, not plank like mine), in-built maple cabinets with glass doors and lights, beautiful tile by the entry way and other finishes. The woman and her boyfriend had done much of it themselves. I was impressed, and glad that they were only a two-bedroom so that they weren't my competition!

We got back at 3 and Connie waved me in—there was no one there presently. She said four couples came through, which is ok for an open house in January. She'd already prepared us that open houses don't do a whole lot any more, although she always likes to have one after putting a house on the market. Tom, a previous owner, came by with his family and a few of my neighbors, and he left me a nice note. I asked Connie if anyone had critiques, and she said there wasn't one. Everyone loved the floors, the sunroom, the other approvements and appointments, and someone even complimented the staging (points to Connie and Stacy for that one!). Many of the houses I saw weren't depersonalized or staged that much; I was again thankful for my position.

I feel very good about the position of the house in the market, my price point, etc. Now that this "first date" is out of the way, I'm more relaxed. I can be myself a bit more.

I made way too many cookies. They'll go to work tomorrow.

Forgive the shameless plug: see the house at www.1317RaeLane.com