Why Does this Always Happen to Me?

Still looking for the fabric-wrapped cord I need to trim out the padded wall in my new home office/guest room. Why is there something so apropos about having a padded wall in my office? I took care of the top two shelves in the linen closet yesterday. Here’s what I discovered when I finished the closet:

• A solid black quilted comforter for a full-size bed - KEEP
• Four sets of sheets for a king-size bed - KEEP
• One set of sheets for a queen-size bed - KEEP
• Two sets of sheets for a twin bed - KEEP
• An ugly pale pink blanket - KEEP
• A hot-pink fleece throw - KEEP
• A Looney Tunes throw - KEEP
• A box containing several baby blankets - KEEP (I am the self appointed keeper of my daughters' sentimental belongings, even if they don't realize they are sentimental.)
• A bag containing baby blankets, caps and booties knitted by my grandmother, before she lost her eyesight, for potential future great-grandchildren - KEEP
• Twelve beautifully colored and patterned cotton flour sacks that I will one day hem to make tea towels - KEEP
• A large assortment of unmatched sheets and pillowcases that I am THROWING AWAY – how much do you want to bet that within the month someone will ask me for an old sheet?
• Silk screened pillow cases from Daughter #1’s elementary school days. Every year the class favor was a class designed pillow case - KEEP (see keeper of sentimental things explanation)
• Mosquito netting from Daughter #2’s Girl Scout camping trips. She was (is) so bug phobic that her Dad had to construct a frame out of pvc pipe, that he duct taped to her camp bunk, that perfectly fitted the mosquito netting. No bugs were getting to that girl! TOSS
• An assortment of aprons I don’t want to get rid of. One was my husband’s when he was a toddler made by his grandmother - KEEP
• A teddy bear made by me out of an antique blue chenille bedspread - GARAGE SALE
• The custom made bumper-pads from Daughter #2’s baby bed - GARAGE SALE
• Two wool blankets I bought at a garage sale because they reminded me of blankets we had when I was a kid, had dry cleaned, and haven’t ever used because they are too scratchy - GARAGE SALE
• Two ironing board covers - KEEP
• Two fleece throws I buy for the dogs. It is easier to replace their bedding when it gets dirty than try to wash them. I figure this is way cheaper than having to have a plumber clean the drain if I were to wash the used ones - KEEP
• An ironing board, an iron, and two cans of spray starch - KEEP (unfortunately)

All of this “stuff”, but still no cording. I am so tempted to just remake it! But, remember "the story of my life" from yesterday? If I remake the fabric covered cord, the original will show up. I am so frustrated, because I know it is in this house somewhere - but where? That is the question. Really, the better question is: Why does this always happen to me?

My Life Story

The story of my life sometimes goes like this: I save something because it is important and I know I will one day need it, that day comes and I can’t find it, I spend hours searching to no avail. This happened again today. I can’t find the fabric covered cording that trimmed the red upholstered wall in my daughter’s room/home office/guest room. When I removed the fabric covered cording (probably about eight years ago), to recover the wall in the new motif, I put it in a safe place just in case I might one day need it again. That day has come and I can’t find the cording I so carefully put away.

There are two logical places in which to look. The first is the linen closet; the second is the heinous hall closet. I looked in the linen closet; I’m not ready to deal with the hall closet, yet. This is what I found on just the two shelves in the closet that I was able to get to tonight:

• A body pillow, one of those long pillows, covered in the celestial moon and star pattern – GARAGE SALE
• 2 baby-blue faux fur throw pillows – GARAGE SALE
• 2 black pleather throw pillows with silhouettes of hot pink cats – GARAGE SALE
• A set of brand new, still in the package, beige sheets for a double bed – KEEP
• A twin-size quilted mattress protector. GIVE to Daughter #2; she has a twin bed in her guest room.
• A really ugly green blanket – KEEP (don’t know why, but I might need a really ugly green blanket one day)
• A box of Space Bags – KEEP
• A crochet blanket, Daughter #2’s security blanket of sorts – KEEP. She called this her oatmeal blanket, for one of two reasons – either it was because part of it was made of ecru yarn that was the color of oatmeal, or because she ate breakfast every morning wrapped up in the blanket and she got more oatmeal on the blanket than in her tummy
• 2 canvas drawstring laundry bags – KEEP

I will finish the closet tomorrow. But it is not looking good that I will find the cording. If the story of my life plays out according to the previous chapters, what will happen is this: I won’t find the cording, I will cover new cording with matching fabric, and as soon as it is installed I will find the old cording. I have lived this story many times before!

You Scream, I Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream

Yesterday, while innocently reaching for ice cubes, I realized I needed to clean out my freezer. Today I tackled the large food storage compartment and noticed I have a bad habit of freezing leftovers and never eating them. When the crust of ice under the Tupperware lid is so thick as to make the food underneath unrecognizable I throw it away. I guess this is some strange food ritual I learned somewhere. (From my grandmother, Big Red, perhaps?) I also uncovered some frozen farm produce from last summer – black-eyed peas, green chilies, jalapenos and pimientos. But the most exciting discovery of all was the one pint container of green tea flavor “It’s Soy Delicious” non-dairy frozen dessert. (It is amazing what passes for dessert around my house.) It was exciting, that was, until I remembered I gave up sweets for Lent. (Sweets and alcohol – what was I thinking?) After trying to convince myself that non-dairy frozen dessert didn’t really count as a sweet, I put it back in the freezer with visions of ice cream dancing in my head.

When I was a child ice cream was a treat. When we were lucky enough to have ice cream in our house it was usually the cheaper store brand and it was usually vanilla. Sometimes we had chocolate and sometimes we had strawberry (usually on someone’s birthday) and as an extra-special-super-duper treat we might have Neapolitan. This came in a rectangular carton which Mother would carefully open so she could slice a piece that held all three flavors. We sometimes had a vile concoction called ice milk. It tasted like ice cream made with water instead of milk; why bother?

Once or twice a year our family traveled across the great state of Texas to my father’s hometown in east Texas to visit my grandparents, his parents, and my aunts, uncles, and cousins. We would usually arrive at my grandparents’ house late in the evening to a meal of fried salmon patties (croquettes as my Maw Maw called them), fried potatoes, cream style corn, cabbage slaw, and stewed tomatoes. The crowning touch was dessert. My Maw-Maw was a diabetic with an infamous sweet tooth. She always wanted “a little something sweet” after dinner and that “little something sweet” was usually a coke float. I use the word coke generically, as do most folks in Texas; a coke was any carbonated beverage regardless of flavor or manufacturer. Coke floats at my grandparents’ house could be made with Seven-Up, Dr. Pepper, Coca Cola, Nehi Orange Crush, or Grape-ette, but the ice cream was always Cabell’s vanilla with black vanilla bean specks in it. I thought there was no better ice cream in the entire world.

We kids would trek out to our Paw-Paw’s detached garage where he kept the wooden cases of 6-ounce bottles of “coke” and select our flavor. We would return to my Maw-Maw’s white tiled kitchen where she would have tall glasses full of Cabell’s vanilla ice cream waiting for us. The other adults were in the living room having a high-ball, Maw-Maw didn’t drink alcohol; her vice was sweets. Even now, years later, I can see her sitting at her kitchen table in her homemade housedress, rolled stockings, and sensible pumps. Her hair was gray, tinted either purple or blue, depending on the whim of Vergie, her neighbor/hairdresser, and held in place by a spider-web thin hairnet. Her big eyes, once brown, but now cloudy with cataracts were magnified behind her thick, rimless glasses. The skin on her face was remarkably soft, wrinkled and covered with powder. We would open the “coke” bottles with an old-fashioned church-key bottle opener and pour the liquid over the ice cream. I can still smell the bubbles from the 7-Up, hear the fizz of the Coca Cola, and see the bright, artificial colors of the orange Nehi and purple Grape-ette. We used silver-plate iced tea spoons to reach the ice cream from the bottom of the glass. Years later when my grandparents passed away I requested and received the very same silver-plate spoons. I use one every morning to stir my coffee and remember my Maw-Maw asking us if we wouldn’t like a “little something sweet” after our dinner. If she were still with us, I am sure she would tell me to go ahead and eat the “It’s Soy Delicious” non-dairy frozen dessert, as there is no way in hell she would call that a sweet!

Is It Cold In Here Or Is It Just Me?

A long day, not too much time for a cleaning/purging project, but I did clean out the upper compartment of my freezer (this is a small compartment normally only used for ice and frosted beer mugs). I opened the door to get some ice and discovered a paint brush in a plastic Ziploc bag from staining the hot tub this past summer. I read somewhere that if you put a wet paint brush in a plastic bag and store it in the freezer you can thaw it later and it is ready to paint with again. This is especially good if you have to stop in mid-project, know you will get back to it soon and don’t want to clean your brush. I don’t know what I thought I would get back to staining, but obviously it wasn’t pressing. It has been 10 months since I put the paintbrush in the freezer and I just today realized it was there. I guess it was time to clean out the freezer. The paintbrush was the biggest oddity, but running a close second was the Ziploc bag of ice, melted and refrozen in a shape to fit over my knee. I used this to ice my knee after my attempt at training for a half marathon. I haven’t attempted to run since August. Tomorrow I will move on to the main freezer section, God only knows what I’ll find in there!

Email Stuff

From: Daughter #1
Sent: Wednesday, February 25, 2009 10:50 AM
To: Mom
Subject: stuff
your blog today almost made me cry! sweet little tweetybird daughter #2

I was also thinking about your blog yesterday, as one of the many underlying inspirations for me to apply to law school was, bizarrely, going through all of my debate stuff (which I know was a thorn in your side for many years, but I thank you for letting it take up that closet for so long). I NEEDED to keep it because it represented something about myself, and in going through it all in October I was really reminded of what that is. Anyway, just a thought on "stuff" (and why we need it!)

xoxox
me

The above is an actual email from Daughter #1. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. I asked her permission to use it in a future blog and she gave it, so I’m not telling tales out of school (whatever that means?).

Over the course of the almost three months I have been writing this blog and cleaning/purging my house I have learned a lot. I have discovered that some of our stuff defines us. As my daughter said in her email – her stuff reminded her of who she was meant to be. In the case of my grandmother’s stuff – it reminds us of from whence we came and in the case of my mother’s stuff - it reminds me of who she was and who she inspired me to be. The jury is still out on my stuff. I haven’t figured it out yet.

Stuff can be powerful, stuff can be inspiring or useful, but stuff can also be dangerous. One of the reasons I began this blog (aside from the obvious – wanting a cleaner house) was because I felt I was being stifled by my stuff. Too much stuff makes me feel like I am being smothered, like I am drowning in it. People who know me well will be surprised to hear me say that because I have always been a collector and a pack rat. But I think there was something about turning fifty that made me want to begin the purge. Getting rid of the stuff brings with it a lighter feeling, it is somehow freeing. I have heeded my daughter’s advice and I am careful to keep the things that represent something about myself; sometimes I need that reminder.

But I Would Never Sell My Soul

Once I decided to have a garage sale I ended up with a mess on my hands. All of the stuff purged from my daughter’s room is in limbo at the moment. Half of the stuff was already by the front door waiting to be hauled off when I got the brilliant idea of having a sale. I couldn’t leave it there until the sale (I actually saw nothing wrong with leaving it there, but my husband objected) – we haven’t even set a date for the sale yet. So, I fell back on one of my classic habits – I moved all of the boxes into Daughter #1’s room until we decide when and where to have the sale. At least one room is clean!

Thinking about having a garage sale has put a bounty on my stuff. I am seeing things in a new light now that I know there is money involved. I guess it is true what they say, “Everything has its price.” Or is it, “Everyone has their price?” Whichever, I am now rethinking some of my KEEPS, and considering attacking the dreaded garage project. Yes, I am that greedy.

My Daughter's Room

Spending so much time in Daughter #2’s room the past few days brought back a lot of memories. While going through boxes of her stuff, rearranging furniture, and even exposing fabric on a padded accent wall that has been covered up for years I have reflected on the childhood my daughter spent in that room. So many good times and a few not so good ones thrown in to remind us we are human.

While putting the bed back in the same place it was when she was three years old I remembered the night I stayed up with her trying to sponge away her high fever. Early the next morning we rushed her to the pediatrician’s office where she had a spinal tap and we ended up in I.C.U. for nine days with spinal meningitis, not knowing if she would live and then anticipating she would be deaf or blind or brain damaged (and welcoming that option over losing her). That story had a wonderful ending – she came away from her near death experience unscathed.

Putting some of my stuff in her now clean closet I thought about all of the toys she had as a child that were stashed in boxes, bins and baskets in that closet. I remembered one particular day when her cousins (who were not allowed to have lots of stuff strewn about their rooms) were visiting. When it was time for them to leave, their daddy and I went in the room to get them and we couldn’t find them. The room was absolutely trashed. Every single toy, game, stuffed animal and doll she owned was spread out all over her room. As we stood there dumbfounded by the mess we heard a giggle that soon erupted into full blown laughter from three little kids. My daughter and her two cousins were indeed in the room – they were just hidden by all of the toys. It was reminiscent of the scene in E.T. where the kids hid E.T. in the closet among all of the toys.

As I was wrestling heavy boxes around her room I was reminded of a time, when she was probably about 5 years old, and she claimed the very large box our new hot water heater came in. She put it next to her bed, put pillows and blankets in it and slept there for several months. When a friend asked her why, she said she wanted to know what homeless people felt like. She has always been compassionate and empathetic. Not much has changed there.

She will kill me for repeating this last memory. While putting the new bedding on the bed I saw the slightly lighter stain on the mattress. I remembered how that stain got there. Suffice it to say it was during high school, after a party that involved drinking beer, and not making it to the bathroom quickly enough. I will fess up that I had a similar experience during my high school days – the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

There are so many wonderful memories and so many happy times associated with that room. My daughter spent the first twenty years of her life there. Now I am taking it over, but her mark is permanently there. As much as I have tried to think of it as my office/guest room, I can’t. It will always be Daughter #2’s room. I hope I can create twenty more years of wonderful memories in there.

Stuff I Can Sell

I spent most of Sunday and several hours this evening working on my new home office/guest room. The bed is moved in. This was accomplished by the use of a loaner truck, my husband’s brawn, and with minimal blood shed. (While loading the bed in the truck the metal bed frame fell on my husband’s head.) Bed is set up and has new bed linen. I even bought new pillows for the shams.

Once the bed task was complete it was time to move on to the boxes. Boxes and boxes of Daughter #2’s discarded past. As I perused the contents I had a crazy idea. You know how difficult it has been for me to get rid of so much GOOD stuff. So, why not have a garage sale? I broached the idea with Daughter #2 and she was excited about it. (She’s obviously never had a garage sale!) It looks like we are going to have a garage sale. Now the logistics: Where, when, how do we split the work, and most importantly – how do we split the money?

Funny, now that money is involved I am a little more inclined to purge.

Office Stuff

The bed is coming, the bed is coming! My husband borrowed a truck so we can haul it home tomorrow; bringing it home to reunite it with its matching pieces. The only problem with that is I had to clear a space in Daughter #2’s former room/my new home office/guest room big enough to put the bed. This was not an easy task. You would be surprised what you can store in an empty space large enough to accommodate a full size bed. Have I mentioned in this blog that I am currently between offices at work? I moved out of my office of seven years in November. That’s not exactly true – I was moved out of my office of seven years by my very nice co-workers while I was in the hospital. I really appreciate them for coming to my aid, but they threw away, without regard to my feelings, SO MUCH STUFF. By the time I got out of the hospital the damage had been done and I was left with probably less than one-third of my “office stuff”. (I have considered feigning an illness to see if they might purge my house of two-thirds of my stuff, but have not given into that idea, yet. I may try it when I get around to the garage project.) Some of that “office stuff” is in my temporary office location, some is being stored until I move to my new office, and some is here, in my house, in my Daughter’s former room/my new home office/guest room.

Office Stuff:

• 2 letter-size file boxes full of recipes
• 2 letter-size file boxes full of miscellaneous office supplies
• A bulletin board
• A vacuum cleaner
• A drip coffee maker
• 2 portable plastic file boxes

I brought all of this stuff home because there was not room in my temporary office and I was afraid to store it for fear I would never see it again. My new office won’t be ready to move in for another month, so I have to keep my “office stuff” at home for a while longer. But the trick today was where to move it in order to make space for the bed. Everything is stacked somewhat neatly (okay, not neatly at all) on one side of the room. I will ignore it until I can move it to my new office. What I am afraid will happen is that I have been storing this stuff at home for 6 months only to discover that I don’t really need any of it!

The Stuff I Bought

While cleaning out Daughter #2’s room it occurred to me that I bought all of this stuff. Every item I am purging has been purchased with hard earned money (mostly my husband’s) and given in good faith to the recipient, thinking that she would want, need, treasure, keep the item forever and ever, amen. Did I really think she would keep her maroon bean bag chair for the rest of her life? On that special day when we searched every shop in town that sold bean bag chairs, looking for just the right one did I think about the day I would donate it to Goodwill? No, I didn’t. When I had her baton bag monogrammed with her name and then hid it in my closet until Christmas (well until after Christmas actually, because she got so many gifts that year I forgot about this one until I came across it several days after Christmas) did I think about the day when she would no longer be interested in twirling batons? No, I didn’t. And the tee shirts, the hundreds of tee shirts, the tee shirts she had to have, the ones with obscure indie/alt/punk bands smeared across the chest that we had to special order from the internet – did I foresee a day when she would cast them aside? No, I didn’t. How many hundreds of dollars could have been spared on tee-shirts alone? What about the boxes of angel-presents she walked away from this week, saying, “I took everything I wanted.” Angel presents are gifts, small trinkets, really, given to my daughters every day of December. A tradition begun when they were young and I could get away with giving holiday pencils, erasers, and candy canes but as they grew older the gifts became more elaborate – bath soap, costume jewelry, socks, journals, picture frames. I really put a lot of thought into buying, wrapping and giving angel presents every year and now there is a box of unwanted “stuff” sitting in the corner of my daughter’s bedroom. If I re-gifted it all this Christmas would she notice?

I’ve got to learn to let go; to get over it. I need to take a cue from my daughter and learn when to get rid of stuff. I guess it is easier for her – she didn’t pay for any of it!

Not My Stuff - Day Two

Today I set my goal a little higher – remove/deal with 10 items from my daughter’s room/office/guest room instead of the paltry 5 items I worked on yesterday. These are the items from today’s purge:

1. A gi-normous hot pink plastic exercise ball with a cartoon of Dora the Explorer on it. My daughter has been promising to take this to her house for months, but it wouldn’t fit into her car. It is now in my SUV awaiting delivery to its new home.
2. A silver plastic milk crate-style storage box full of perfumes, lotions and soaps. Most of these were tossed because they smelled “old”. A few I kept in the guest bathroom for guests who might like to smell like a sixteen year old girl or a Bath & Body Works store.
3. A maroon bean bag chair. As tempted as I am to see if one of the dogs would use this for a bed I think I will donate it to a charitable re-sale shop where an aspiring Aggie Interior Design student might pick it up and make good use of it.
4. Washington Quarters State Collection 1999 – 2003 Volume 1 and Washington Quarters State Collection 2004 – 2008 Volume 2. After noticing my daughter removed all of the coins I put these in the donation pile.
5. A cell phone face plate – for use on Nokia 5100 series that we probably haven’t owned since the mid 1990s. Donation pile - on the odd chance that the one person in the world who still might be using a Nokia 5100 series phone happens into the charitable re-sale shop.
6. The 90s punk rock equivalent of the Monkees, Paul Revere and the Raiders, and Bobby Sherman magazine photos I once plastered all over my teen bedroom. Photos covering two closet doors, floor to ceiling - enough to fill two grocery bags, which I carried to the trash.
7. Three throw pillows in the midnight blue and silver celestial star theme that went with the décor before the black hole/punk rock phase. Donation pile.
8. Two bowling pins. Donation pile. Don't ask me why my daughter had two bowling pins in her room.
9. A lava lamp. I am keeping this – there is something about a lava lamp. I am a child of the 70s.
10. Something called a butterfly chair. A very strange apparatus made for sitting. If I can figure out how to sit in/on it I may keep it.

So, a slightly larger dent in a slightly smaller mess; before I know it I just may have that office/guest room I’ve been dreaming of for several years.

It's Not My Stuff

Now that I have inherited an entire room of stuff I'm not quite sure what to do with it. It is one thing to purge my own stuff, but I have discovered it is quite another to purge stuff that belongs to someone else. I walked into Daughter #2's room/my office/guest room no less than fifteen times today with the intention of beginning the purge; it was just too overwhelming. So today I went back to the "just remove x number of things" strategy. It was late, I was tired, so I only removed 5 things today:

1. 2 Jan Sport backpacks one gray, one navy blue - Neither backpack looks like it has ever been used. I will definitely KEEP.
2. A denim Levi jean jacket, size small - KEEP - I can't wear this, but I moved it to the hall closet, because one day someone will need a perfectly good Levi jacket.
3. 2 very heavy Hefty bags full of clothes - The old me would have second guessed my daughter and gone through the bags. I am proud to say I didn't untie either bag. I am going to DONATE both bags even though I could tell there were several pairs of blue jeans in the bags and I had to vanish the thought of making a blue jean quilt. (I have actually made a blue jean quilt in the past. Don't have any idea where it is now. I just remember I went through many many sewing machine needles making it.)
4. A monogrammed baton bag containing 2 batons from Daughter #2's twirling days. She was quite good and I was sad that she quit before she got to high school where she certainly could have been a feature twirler. KEEP - as crazy as it sounds I cannot bring myself to get rid of this. I will put it in the toy closet and maybe one day I will have a grandchild who would like to learn to twirl. (Or more likely, a grandchild who will break a lamp or an irreplaceable antique with a baton.)
5. A Bible inside of a cloth carrying bag - KEEP - I like to think one day my daughter will want this back.

A very small dent in a very big mess, but it is a beginning.

Hostage Update

As O. Henry proved – one should be careful about what they wish for in a hostage/ransom situation. Recall I have been holding Daughter #2's new Ikea bed hostage until she officially moved all of her “stuff” out of her childhood room, now more commonly known as my office/guestroom. Today she paid the ransom. Today she took the “stuff” she wanted. The “stuff” she wanted fit into two large plastic storage boxes. The rest of the “stuff," accumulated over the course of her lifetime, I inherited. Clothes, knick-knacks, mementos of her childhood, adolescent, and teen years, c.d.s, furniture, books and assorted craft supplies are all now mine. As if I don’t already have enough “stuff”. Now I will be cleaning/purging her room in order to make it mine.

There is something very sad about one’s child moving out of the house for good. She physically moved out years ago, but having her things in her room still made it feel like hers. I could even still smell her plumeria body spray when I went into the room. (I discovered this is because I inherited an entire plastic milk crate full of scented bath products.) But now, she has relinquished all claim to her room; she has taken what she wanted and is out of here. It is what I have been asking her to do for months, maybe years. Oddly, I’m not as thrilled about it as I thought I would be (and it doesn’t have anything to do with her bequeathing her “stuff” to me). It’s because my baby is gone. Her room will soon officially be the office/guestroom – and I’m a little sad about it.

Before I can wallow in sadness and self-pity I have to finish cleaning/purging her room. Perhaps it is a good thing that she left me with a job to do; less time to miss her, even if she is only across town.

It's Time to Stop and Get Gas

I am taking a three day sabbatical from the internet and from “stuff.” It is nice to be able to do that. Nice to have a place to go where the “stuff” has been put there on purpose, not “stuff” that is the residue of living in a place for 25 years. My retreat is a small cabin on a lake 45 miles from my home; it feels like 4500 miles from my home. The geography changes drastically thanks to a feature known as an escarpment. Millions of years of erosion have caused the land to give away leaving a beautiful landscape drastically different from my day-to-day surroundings. I drive about 45 minutes, hit the escarpment and feel like I am in a different country. I mentally leave all of my “stuff” on top of the canyon before I descend to my new world. Of course, it is there waiting for me on my return trip, but at least I have had a day or two to breathe unencumbered by the stresses and obligations of my life.

I am leaving this morning for three days of freedom. I feel like a kid on the eve of a Disneyworld trip. Don’t get the wrong idea – the three days will not be filled with crowds and non-stop excitement. My three days will be filled with quiet and solitude, sleep and rest, reading and writing, good food and the good company of only one other soul.

These three days will be just what I need to come back to the “stuff” of my life – my work, my obligations, my stresses, my life. To come back to the “stuff” with a renewed vision, a renewed strength, a renewed desire to keep moving forward in this wonderful, crazy life I have created for myself. Of course, knowing that my refueling station is only an hour away helps.

If the Shoe Fits (Buy it in Every Color)

Yesterday’s blog brought out memories of previous jobs when I found the half-slips stashed in the drawer. Slips I can’t recall wearing since I worked in an office and wore skirts and dresses, hose and high heels. I’m happy I don’t have to wear all of that “stuff” now. Now I wear jeans and tee-shirts and comfortable shoes. Birkenstock sandals and Merrill clogs, Nikes or Adidas running shoes, a well worn pair of Born work boots or my backward-tilting Earth shoes; all chosen for comfort, all going against Daughter #2’s mantra of “fashion over function.”

I used to put more stock in her mantra. As the collection of slips uncovered yesterday proved – I used to dress up. There was a time in the 80s when my legs hurt on weekends because I wasn’t wearing high heels. My legs weren’t used to the relaxed position. I remember vividly the beautiful, torturous footwear I used to subject my feet to. I had a collection of snakeskin stiletto heels, dyed colors only a snake on acid would appreciate: royal blue and black, lipstick red and black, and the sedate chocolate brown and beige. I loved those shoes and they loved me – they made my, then skinny, legs look great. I selected dresses to match my shoes, not the other way around.

I come from a long line of shoe loving women. My grandmother, my aunts and my mother each all but deformed their feet wearing pointed toed stiletto heels during the 1950s and 60s. Fortunately, my entrée into the world of high heels was in the 1970s. I remember strappy four-inch Famolares and wedge-heeled sandals we just referred to as “wedgies” (now that word means something else entirely). And boots. I recall walking across my college campus in brown leather boots with three or four-inch heels. The summer before my freshman year I sewed up a storm making skirts and vests copied from the coeds in Seventeen magazine to match my beautiful new boots purchased with money saved from my part-time job. Today I see girls on campus, my daughter included, wearing flip-flops. (We used to call them thongs, but that, too, has an entirely different meaning today.) Probably a much wiser footwear choice – at least they don’t run the risk of a broken ankle from falling off of their shoes.

My love of shoes hasn’t diminished, the aesthetics have just changed. Give me comfort over fashion any day, but if you can find that comfort packaged in a good looking shoe, I’ll take it. I’m still trying to make my, not so skinny anymore, legs look great. I come from a long line of well-shod, fashionistas; it’s in my blood.

Slip-sliding Away

Today's task was a dresser drawer, the smallest drawer left to be cleaned/purged in my dresser. A drawer I rarely use, you will soon see why.

• 8 half-slips. I'm curious, who wears half-slips anymore? Who wears slips? I am so tempted to toss them all, but one is brand new - still has tags on it. These date back to the days when I worked in an office and wore skirts and blazers and (horrors) high-heel shoes. As crazy as it seems - KEEP 4 (two black, one white, one beige), DONATE 4 (2 white, 2 beige).
• a sweater stone. This is a device for removing sweater-lint. I don't think I have ever used it, don't think I ever will - DONATE.
• a duck whistle from the D.C. Duck Tour - KEEP - I am sure I will need a duck whistle at some point.
• a tee-shirt dress from the 1980s. If you don't know what a tee-shirt dress is - allow me to explain: you cut the bottom of one tee-shirt off under the arms and sew it to the bottom of another tee-shirt making a long tee-shirt dress. Why anyone ever did this is beyond me, however, they were all the rage in the 80s. The reason I still have this one is because it is decorated with my daughters' hand prints. I actually had them dip their hands in white paint to decorate the tee-shirt dress. Too bad I was a little too early for Project Runway. KEEP - of course I will never wear this again, but I can't get rid of my sweet daughters' hand prints.
• 4 drawer sachets - KEEP - but not all in the same drawer.
• a pedometer from a McDonald's "Healthy Meal" that appears to be broken - TRASH.
• 2 sets of rosary beads - KEEP - it would probably be a sin to throw them away.
• a satin lined, small velvet bag - perfect for a tube of lipstick and a small mirror in an elegant evening bag - KEEP - in spite of the fact I am sure I will never use it.
• a beautiful, fine linen, handkerchief given to me by Daughter #1 on the day of her wedding, for use at the wedding. Of course I cried, but I didn't use the beautiful handkerchief - I didn't want to get it dirty! KEEP
• 2 clothes pins - KEEP - move to utility room.

That is the end of the exciting cleaning/purging activity for today. Quack, Quack (that was the duck whistle).

The Hard Stuff

Some days I am inspired to clean/purge something and other days I am too tired to face my messes. Today was the later. But I am committed to this blog so I chose to clean an area I had an issue with last week. On the night the relatives came for dinner I had an incident that drew my attention to a mess of a disaster waiting to happen. Daughter #2 was cooking Spanish Rice at the stove and I reached over her to get a bottle of bourbon out of the "liquor cabinet." I have noticed that approximately 95% (don't take me seriously when I use math - I would never actually figure a percentage - I am only making a wild guess here) of the people I know keep their liquor in the cabinet over the oven. My parents did, so I do. Anyway, as I pulled the bottle out of the cabinet I accidentally knocked over a champagne flute. The glass fell from the high cabinet, to the floor, and shattered into a million pieces (again, the math thing - probably not a million pieces - I didn't count). As I was sweeping up the mess, Daughter #2 threw the Spanish Rice in the trash and announce she was going to the store to get new ingredients, as she wouldn't serve anything that might possibly kill someone. Good call. Remember the glass shattered - smithereens is a word not often used, but it comes to mind, odds are glass got into the pan of rice. So, the liquor cabinet was my project for today.

The liquor cabinet is a fairly small cabinet over the oven. Keep that in mind as you read the items I pulled from the cabinet:

• 2 Golden Goblets from Excalibur Hotel/Casino in Las Vegas - Home of King Arthur's Tournament - DONATE - Maybe someone, somewhere, will want these.
• 15 shot glasses - KEEP 12, TRASH 3 - Sort of an odd decision, considering we don't "do shots", but you never know when a wild streak might possess us and we have a need for 12 shot glasses.
• 2 clear glass Christmas mugs - DONATE
• 2 brandy snifters - KEEP
• a glass ice bucket and matching tumbler, Wedgwood blue with a Grecian pattern - KEEP - these belonged to my parents, remind me of my parents - I'm keeping them.
• 8 Koozies - KEEP 5, TRASH 3
• a set of 8 coasters featuring the labels from wines from our local winery - KEEP
• a set (15 assorted) of "authentic" British Pub Mats (coasters) still in the package - KEEP
• 4 wine corks - KEEP - I save them in a big jar, are you surprised?
• a clay pot Daughter #1 made in elementary school - KEEP - wonder what it was doing in there?
• An Aerolatte - The Original Steam Milk Frother - KEEP - but put it somewhere else, with cappuccino maker, perhaps.
• 2 on-the-rocks glasses with Chivas Regal emblem - KEEP - nice heavy glasses.
• 2 champagne flutes - KEEP - one can always use champagne flutes
• 3 cordial glasses, 2 matching, 1 odd - KEEP 2, DONATE 1 - we aren't big cordial drinkers.
• a glass pitcher with a red plastic spout - KEEP - this is another item from my childhood, go figure.
• 2 crystal wine glasses that belong to the ever-diminishing set of my mother's crystal - KEEP
• an orange plastic cup in the shape of an orange with "Smirnoff Screwdriver" on it - KEEP - this is also from my childhood. It was kept in my parent's liquor cabinet and my Daddy put his pocket change in it after work. This change was used the next day for our school milk money. Memories.
• a miniature plastic beer bottle that is labeled "Twang The Original Premium Beer Salt" - TRASH
• a sombrero shaped container of Jose Cuervo Margarita Salt - KEEP
• 2 empty, purple velvet Crown Royal bags - TRASH - why did I keep these?
• 7 packages of assorted cocktail napkins - KEEP
• a stainless steel cocktail shaker - KEEP
• a battery operated electronic timer - KEEP
• 2 Christmas-themed wine bottle stoppers - KEEP
• 4 Christmas-themed swizzle sticks - KEEP
• 12 wine glass charms - KEEP
• a brocade flask holder with plastic flask - KEEP - this is one of my crazy estate sale buys. I laugh out loud when I think of the woman who might have owned this. Anything that makes me laugh out loud gets to stay.
• an assortment of Texas Wine promotional pamphlets and wine coasters - KEEP COASTERS, TRASH THE REST

Have you noticed anything missing? Now for the good "stuff"

• an almost full bottle of 100% Agave Tequilero Hecho en Mexico Tequila - KEEP
• a bottle of Crown Royal Special Reserve with less than a 1/2-inch left in the bottom - DONATE (I am actually donating this to my grandmother's liquor cabinet where the odds are better that someone at her house will drink it.)
• a bottle of Southern Comfort 100Proof I know I have owned for over 20 years. We bought it on a trip to the Virgin Islands in 1989, talk about aged! DONATE - ditto the above recipient
• a bottle of W.L. Weller Special Reserve with about a 1/2-inch left - DONATE - ditto
• a bottle of Old Charter Kentucky Bourbon with about a 1/2-inch left - DONATE - ditto
• a bottle of Tequila Reserva 1800 Reposado 100% de Agave hecho en Mexico - KEEP
• a tiny bottle of Guzano rojo Mescal from Oaxaca - KEEP - souvenir bottle from Daughter # 1's summer in Oaxaca
• a bottle of Triple Sec Liqueur - KEEP
• a bottle of Bacardi Rum, again with only about a 1/2-inch remaining - KEEP - I might one day feel like a Mai Tai
• a partial bottle of Malibu Caribbean Rum - KEEP
• an unopened bottle of J&B Scotch - KEEP - neither of us drink Scotch, but you never know...
• an empty bottle of St.Remy Napoleon Brandy - TRASH
• a partial bottle of Praline Pecan Liqueur - KEEP - this is awesome on caramel apple pie
• a partial bottle of Amaretto di Amore - KEEP
• a Mogen David Deluxe Concord Wine in a Limited Edition Collector Decanter - TRASH - this has been around for way too long.

This cleaning/purging exercise would have been way more fun if it weren't Lent.

Day Two of the Hostage Situation

The hostage situation has not been successfully negotiated. It appears that we have a slight delay. Daughter #2 is in college and can’t partake in the negotiations until next week when she is on Spring Break. I have decided to continue the room purge on my own. Same rules as last time – remove ten items.

• The head piece my mother wore on her wedding day in 1956 and that my daughter wore on her wedding day in 2007 – SAVE – I finally wrapped this in tissue paper and put it up on the top closet shelf. Daughter #2, Niece #2, Niece #3, and Grandnieces #s 1, 2, 3, & 4 will have the opportunity to wear it when their special day comes.
• A plastic step stool – MOVE – Moved to hall closet (the dreaded hall closet).
• Folding chrome stand and canvas laundry bag that fits into it – MOVE – Take to lake house – where it will be perfect for hauling laundry back and forth.
• Two UPS shipping boxes (folded) – MOVE – one more thing into the hall closet. I actually have a shelf with wrapping/mailing supplies on it (who knew I was so organized?).
• A duffel bag with clothes, towels, supplies I have packed to go to the lake – MOVE – moved to my bedroom to finish packing – whoo-hoo we are going to the lake this weekend.
• Loose pages with wine information that came with our wine club shipments – MOVE – move to snazzy little notebook that came with initial wine shipment where they belong.
• A tote bag and a shopping bag full of wedding planning paraphernalia from Daughter #1’s wedding (almost 15 months ago) – MOVE – I moved both bags to Daughter #1’s room – I need to go through the wedding “stuff” to make sure I don’t toss any important memories. (Note the trend of moving stuff back and forth between daughter's rooms.)
• A pair of real headphones, not ear-buds, Daughter #2 gave me for my ipod – MOVE – put with my ipod – (Thank you, Daughter #2).
• A packing box that a book was shipped in. I have been saving this because who knows when I might need to ship a book - TRASH - Really, what are the odds I'll be shipping out a book? Please note - one thing has been thrown away during this exercise!
• Package of drawer organizers from last week's trip to Ikea. This was the only thing I bought for myself - MOVE - to my room where the drawers in need of organizing can be found.

I have done all I can do towards the hostage negotiation. Daughter #2 is going to have to take over from here. I am hoping to have this hostage crisis situation resolved by the end of Spring Break.

We Have A Hostage Situation

I have a hostage in my house. I am actually holding a hostage. The hostage is a new queen-size bed from Ikea. The ransom I am demanding is the removal of all of daughter #2's "stuff" from her old bedroom (my new office). If she wants the new Ikea bed, and I know she does, she first has to move out of my house. That shouldn't bother her, as she has her own home across town. Across town she also has the bed that goes with the remaining furniture in her old room (my new office). I am sure a simple swap can be arranged as soon as she removes her "stuff".

I am being a slight bit hypocritical here. It's not as if the room will be vacant once she removes her things. I stood at the door today trying to imagine it as a guest room/office and even I don't have that much imagination. The room is what is commonly referred to in some circles as a JUNK ROOM. It has become the room where anything without a home goes. It has become a JUNK ROOM. As I stood at the door I knew I needed to begin purging, but I just couldn't figure out where to start. The floor space that was once occupied by the bed is covered with "stuff". I went to the door and just stared in despair several times before I actually got the nerve to go in and do something.

This is going to be a project I will have to tackle in segments, much like the kitchen cabinets. I gave myself the task of removing/putting away/tossing 10 items today. Ten items was manageable, the whole room would require a Pod (you know, those storage units they deliver to your driveway) and a forklift.

The ten things I removed/put away/tossed:

• a 16-quart stainless steel beverage tub - put away in its original box in the closet where it belongs.
• the box containing the most recent wine club shipment - bottles of wine put in wine rack where they will sit unmolested until Easter when I can drink again, box saved for daughter #2 to pack her "stuff" in
• a duffel bag containing workout clothes - moved to my bedroom closet so I will see it and remember to workout (won't someone please take me seriously?)
• two suitcases (please note I am only counting this as one entry) - I nested them, one inside the other, and moved them to daughter #1's room until I can find a more suitable storage place (I have a very bad habit of moving things back and forth between my daughter's rooms. I'll try to work on this.)
• a wooden stand with 4 very heavy wooden folding t.v. trays -stored in the hall closet. The hall closet is the second scariest storage place in my house, the first being the garage and the third was the Tupperware cabinet from blog dated 2/14/09.
• a 6 x 9 foot wool rug purchased by daughter #1 in New York and hauled back to Texas in a very large suitcase after she decided it didn't match her apartment (this was, of course, before luggage poundage limitations went into effect). - I have relocated this to daughter #1's room (I told you I had issues with this) until I can get moth balls and an adequate storage container. Then perhaps I will move it to the storage building we own in a town about 30-miles away. Oops, I just realized that I haven't yet fessed up to having an outside storage place. The first step is admitting the problem - I've done that. Give me a break.
• A box-fan - moved to hall closet, where it is now perched precariously on top of the t.v. trays.
• 2 Mr. Clean car wash kits - husband moved to the garage for me (I'm too scared to go in there)
• 2 tote bags containing miscellaneous writing "stuff", notebooks, journals, books - went through both bags and put "stuff" up where it belongs - desks, bookshelves, etc.

Okay, it's a start. Any day now I will have room to put a bed in the former JUNK ROOM, soon to be combination guest room/office. I wonder how much longer I will have to hold the new Ikea bed hostage? I am eagerly anticipating the hostage transfer!

Suitcase Stuff

Why is it so hard to unpack after a trip? It seems that no matter the length of the trip I have issues with unpacking. It is so much easier to leave the suitcase on the floor by the bed for a couple of days and continue to live out of it than to actually pull out wrinkled clothes and dirty laundry; easier until my husband trips over it in the middle of the night or a cat thinks it can be used for a litter box. (That did actually happen years ago, but I have no cats living at home anymore. Ask me about my grand-cat.) Having returned late last night from a three day business trip I decided unpacking would make an excellent blog topic. I also decided I was too tired to actually clean/purge anything, so I unpacked. I won't list all of the items I unpacked; no one wants an accounting of dirty socks and undies, but I will pose a few questions inspired by my suitcase.

1. Why did I take four pairs of shoes for a three day stay?
2. Why did I take an outfit I never wore ?
3. Why did I take two novels and three magazines? I barely read a page.
4. Why did I take granola bars, tea bags and energy drink powder? My breakfasts and lunches were provided at the conference and my co-workers and I went out to dinner every night.
5. Why did I take my ipod, ipod charger, and two sets of earbuds?
6. Why did I take a camera with me to a work function? It's not like I would want memories to treasure in my dotage.
7. Why did I take shampoo and conditioner when I always use the cute, good-smelling, little bottles on the hotel bathroom vanity?
8. Same question for lotion.
9. Why did I iron my clothes before I packed them?
10. Why did I pack every medication known to man just in case I got sick and then forget to take take even my vitamins while I was away?

Just a few things to think about the next time I leave town.

Big Red's "Stuff"

Since I began this blog I have alluded to the fact that my grandmother, Big Red, has contributed significantly to my packrattishness (I think I just invented a new word), hoarding, and/or my inability to part with “stuff”. Having just spent the weekend at her home celebrating her 102 birthday I have some thoughts on Big Red’s “stuff”.
Big Red’s “stuff” falls into several categories:

1. Good Stuff: an antique glass Daisy churn, an antique Roseville pitcher, the awesome circa 1950 drapes in her den.


2. Stuff that might be made into something else or that might be employed for some important function at a later date: Ski rope that might be woven around a metal lawn chair frame to make a new seat, a piece of wormy barn wood on which someone might want to decoupage a picture, a full skirt from the 1950s that could be used as a tablecloth.


3. Family history stuff: The dress her mother wore in her high school graduation photo, numerous scrapbooks, diaries, and photo albums, the original school teaching contract offering x amount of money per Choctaw pupil taught and every letter or greeting card she has ever received stored in manila folders by year.


4. Stuff that is just plain crap: 47 florist vases and containers, trashcans made from five gallon ice cream containers with sheets of rolled up glossy magazine pages covering the outside, and pantyhose and/or nylon stockings to tie up plants with or to store onions in (you put an onion in the leg, tie a knot and repeat until the leg is filled then hang it in the garage).

The category I am interested in today is #3 Family History Stuff. What a rich history our family has, and what a wonderful keeper of the history we have in our 102 year old matriarch. She has kept the almanacs of our family’s existence. Her three bedroom house and her two car garage are full of the evidence of her multi-generational family. She has the original copies of generations of diaries under her bed, stored neatly in shallow boxes. (So what if they are beer boxes.) She has the photo album/scrapbook from her teen years when she rolled her stockings and had a spit-curl in the middle of her forehead. She has the dress, tattered though it may be, her mother wore in her high school graduation portrait and the speech her mother made to her fellow classmates on that day and the deportment metal awarded. (Does anyone award deportment anymore? Maybe we should!) She has copies of civil war conscriptions. She has small account books listing pennies spent during the depression. She has a photo of herself standing by one of the first cars her family owned – an Apperson Jackrabbit. She has the baby name book with the odd spelling of my first name. She has every class photo of every class she ever taught. She has framed photos of her children, her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren and her great-great-grandchildren (or just her grands as she refers to us when she lumps us all together) in every room of her house (yes, even the bathrooms). In short, she has a house full of stuff; some great, some not so great – but it is her “stuff” and it makes her who she is and it defines the family. It is a museum of sorts where we go to learn about ourselves, where we go to laugh and cry and be awed by the wonderful people who came before us. Thank you, Big Red, for keeping the “stuff” so we have a little better insight into who we are.

The Stuff We Have to Do

I have fallen behind on cleaning and blogging. As always, I have good excuses:

• Co-hosted a two day local conference

Followed by:

• A 3 (4)-day weekend celebrating my grandmother’s 102 birthday with about 30 family members

Followed by:

• One day in the office to get five days worth of work done

Followed by:

• The 3 days I am leaving town (beginning today) for a conference/training/workshop for work

The stuff I have to do takes precedence over the stuff I want to do. Oh, life!