Saturday, July 8, 2017

Long Time, No Hear From

I have an excuse for not posting. Really I do. I've been moving.

Yes, I have. It's been a painful process, mostly in the physical sense. My back is still not speaking to me and the bruises are a lovely combination of blue, purple, green, and puke yellow. I counted twenty on my arms alone. I didn't count the ones on my legs, probably a thousand or so (I bruise if you look at me funny). Myrtle the Younger won the mosquito award with 55 on her legs. She believes she will get the Zika virus or West Nile.

I'll keep you posted.

By the grace of God and the much appreciated help from friends, we managed to empty 90% of our house into two storage units. Why storage? Because we have too much crap and are moving in with my father-in-law (aka PawPaw). This means we will have storage units until two households are consolidated into one, assuming that is possible.

Moving presents an excellent opportunity to clear out some of said crap. PawPaw is a saint. He keeps saying "nothing is sacred" meaning we (meaning I) can keep or get rid of anything I want. Easier said than done.

Some things are ridiculously easy to unload: 10 rolls of aluminum foil and 11 rolls of plastic wrap are prime examples. I now much choose what I want to keep from the multitudes of baking sheets and casserole dishes. However, I have discovered a few personal challenges to the end goal:

1) If it's old, it must be an antique and therefore worth something. I know, I know; it's not worth a plug nickel. (But it might be worth more than a nickel.) (I probably watch too much Antiques Roadshow.) But I have determined that no matter how much they might be worth, the collectible Dallas Cowboys glasses from the 70's and 80's are going away post haste. And, if I find any more tucked into some box somewhere, I will smash them to bits. That ought to further increase the value of any remaining glasses.

2) It's family. Either great-aunt Melba got that coffee mug as a wedding gift and used it for her snuff habit for sixty years or Granny's boyfriend gave her that ceramic vaquero at her first county fair and had it on her dresser for as long as anyone can remember. (I made up the coffee mug, The vaquero is real. It had a note sitting underneath with its history written by my mother-in-law. Anything with a note should be kept, right?)

3) It's handmade. Considering I make a lot of stuff, I have a place in my heart for items made by hand, whether it be a crocheted doily or a bookcase which PawPaw built. There's a piece of someone's soul in their work. That's hard for me to let go of.

So, pray for me while I sort through this stuff. I've told everyone in the house that we will NEVER need to purchase plastic baggies, foil, plastic wrap, office supplies, and band-aids. EVER.

T.

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