Becky vs. The Acorns

...is the movie I'm starting in 10 years if the robots aren't already in charge.

It’s early days for stARTistry, this no-news letter. You can’t count on it arriving on a certain day of the week or with any predictable frequency. But you can count on a couple of things:

1. You’ll get at least one idea that will tempt you to start something new, or something to make you feel better about the ideas you have in the works.

2. You won’t be intimidated or jealous of me, because I won’t come out looking like the smartest acorn in the bag.

Here’s my autumn example. I like picking up the acorns in my front yard. It’s therapeutic. Like meditation, with a little bit of exercise. And it puts a tiny dent in the thousands of tiny pin oak trees trying to plant themselves in my lawn.

The strangers who walk by, however, don’t know I’m doing self-care. They just see a crazy lady in her yard picking up stuff.

ACTUAL COMMENTS from people walking by:

·       “Ya know, trees this size drop 10,000 acorns each.”

·       “There will be twice as many tomorrow, don’t you think?”

·       “It’s easier to just mow down the trees when they sprout.”

·       “You’ll never win this one, sweetheart.”

Some restrain themselves and just say “picking up acorns?” But no one acts like what I’m doing is normal.

Last fall, I happened on an article saying that acorns are a good ingredient for garden compost. I’m a joyful composter, so this was good news.

“Great!” I thought. Now I can USE the acorns I pick up. And when that know-it-all guy with the black lab walks by and says something to zap my zen, I can say “I know I look crazy, but I use acorns for compost.”

The rub is, you have to smash the acorns before throwing them in the compost, or you’ll be planting tree seeds in your garden when you spread your compost. Smashing acorns with a hammer is NOT meditative.

With more research, I found a hack: just smash the acorns by driving over them with your car!

With new enthusiasm, I picked up more acorns, faster. I was now saving instead of tossing them, watching the containers fill up. I was setting goals…to pick up 100 acorns per session, or fill a bowl in 10 minutes. I felt so productive, I didn’t even notice when my acorn breaks morphed from zen moments of mindfulness to a one-woman crazy factory.

In December, I declared it time to smash acorns and start my most earth-nourishing batch of compost. My husband, Cary, didn’t even roll his eyes when I put two cups of acorns in a grocery bag and asked him to drive over it with his SUV.

I directed the 4000-pound vehicle back and forth over the acorns. Excited, I opened the bag to see the first batch of product. I was SO curious – like a chef pulling a new recipe out of the oven. Had I created acorn granules? Acorn mash? Maybe acorn dust?

Nope.

No compostable fairy dust. Just a few hundred fully intact acorns staring up at me.

We couldn’t believe our eyes. We regrouped and pondered the physics of the situation, as if we could calculate the physics of smashing acorns. Determined, with the confidence of engineers, we decided we needed something hard on top of the acorns, something flat. So I grabbed some old shelving boards and put them on top of the acorns.

Cary got back behind the wheel and I video recorded as he drove slowly back over the boards and acorns (Sorry, the video isn’t loading, but here’s the prep shot.)

Then…a surprisingly loud crunching sound.

Don’t get excited. It wasn’t acorns, it was the boards breaking. The acorns were intact. They remained intact after five attempts.

If you and I are out for a drink sometime, I’ll tell you the rest of this 45-minute Laurel and Hardy routine. It ends with 20 pounds of whole acorns in my garage.

And…a new hopeful startup in the world!

You see, just as I was getting frustrated, my 8-year-old neighbor and robot whiz kid rode by on his bike. He was no help smashing the acorns, but he has accepted my commission to invent an acorn-collecting robot with a smashing attachment. He has promised a delivery date of ten years from now when he can legally purchase explosives. Stay tuned.

What creative insights are you to take away from this story . . . in this no-news letter of inspiration and encouragement?

1.  If you’ve always wondered about composting, you can START HERE. It’s great for the earth and makes you feel not so bad about expired produce.

2.  When you find something therapeutic that gives you peace, think hard before deciding to turn it into a productive venture. It’s a prickly path.

3.  When someone wants to invent something to solve your problems, say “yes, please.” If they are eight years old, accept all their terms and conditions. These are the stARTists that will change the world.

My new book, Start More Than You Can Finish, is getting great reviews. That then-8-year-old robot maker gave one of them.