I've now been in Tennessee for a little over a month. I've filled the car up once and still have almost half a tank left! You would think I would have all the boxes unpacked by now if I'm not using up gas going anywhere . . .
On Saturday, it snowed. It was the perfect snow -- already snowing when we woke up, we were able to just watch it all morning without going anywhere, it covered the ground and trees, and then melted off (mostly) by the end of the day. No freezing streets. Dog was bewildered. Just peed on the very edge of the grass and ran back in as fast as his little legs would carry him. Which, quite frankly, is what I would do if I were forced out to do my duty in the snow.
The first time my husband and I lived in Tennessee (almost 25 years ago!), it was right after we were married. We weren't able to travel to for Christmas, so our first Christmas was just us. On Christmas Eve, it snowed. It was the first White Christmas I remember ever being a part of. I thought it only happened in Christmas songs. It felt like a gentle blessing on our marriage and our new life together.
In a sense, we're starting a new life together now as well. Kids are grown and basically out of the house . . . just the dog left. The snow this year seemed like a "welcome back to Tennessee" greeting. Merry Christmas and may all your Christmases be white.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Hoarding
There's a new show on A&E called "Hoarders." If you haven't seen it, it's about people with a psychological disorder that causes them to collect things obsessively even if it's dangerous or worthless. I could only watch half a show before turning it off. I'm not sure if the fact I was eating lunch at the time had anything to do with it.
However, when I turned it off I reveled in the relative cleanness of my previously-thought-to-be-cluttered house. I could see the floor! It was dirty, but I could see it! I have waaaay too many books, but they are all on shelves. That said, I do have my own issue of hoarding. And not just chocolate.
We're in the process of preparing for a garage sale in anticipation of a move across county. Where did all this junk come from? So helpful to find all the swim goggles now and not the countless 6:30 am mornings when we were late for a swim meet. Actually, as I'm looking to my right at the completed sets of boxes that have been gone through and priced, I have no idea what's in them. And I just worked on them this weekend!
I've heard the advice that if you can't decide whether to keep something or not, you should box it up. If you haven't opened the box in six months, get rid of it without opening it back up. I am unable to do that. I must look again. Even now, as I'm being as ruthless as I've ever been, I'm having a great deal of difficulty letting go of the little wooden mouse that was in our children's stockings just two, or ten, years ago.
My son brought out several boxes of things he thinks he no longer wants, and it breaks my heart to see how unsentimental he is. He doesn't what to keep his remote-controlled "Bart Simpson on a Skateboard" or his chia Homer. Never even planted his chia Homer. He could still get plenty of use out of it!
As I look through the things he and his sister have discarded, I guess a little bit of it is personal, because so many of these things I bought for them. I am a careful gift buyer -- it must be attached to a memory or something meaningful for the person I'm buying for. Or it can be a joke gift, but it still has to have meaning, or it's just not funny. I guess I must have bought more for my memory than theirs.
Of course, I tend to the other direction of not wanting to get rid of enough. It's not just the things that I have a sentimental attachment to or memory of. And just because I haven't thought about it in years, doesn't mean I can't think about it now! And I do! I can use this jewelry to make some incredibly creative . . . creation that people will want! These calendars have beautiful pictures -- there must be a great way to reuse them! I just don't know what that is! But I might someday! I do draw the line at toilet paper tubes and plastic butter containers. I try to throw out pens when they're used up (why is THAT so hard to do?).
It may be genetic. When my sisters and I spent a weekend several years ago cleaning out our stored "stuff" (there is no other word for it) from our parents' attic, it was clear that Mother had just boxed everything up "as is" and put it away. We knew this because the gum wrapper chain had been carefully preserved. I was glad to find some of my childhood books, projects from my first Vacation Bible School and my plagiarized report on Holland (don't tell Mr. Smith). And honestly, I don't remember much else that was recovered.
Perhaps this is a time when I can learn to let go of things -- I'm already letting go of my most precious possessions for the past 20 years -- my children. Everything else should really pale in comparison.
However, when I turned it off I reveled in the relative cleanness of my previously-thought-to-be-cluttered house. I could see the floor! It was dirty, but I could see it! I have waaaay too many books, but they are all on shelves. That said, I do have my own issue of hoarding. And not just chocolate.
We're in the process of preparing for a garage sale in anticipation of a move across county. Where did all this junk come from? So helpful to find all the swim goggles now and not the countless 6:30 am mornings when we were late for a swim meet. Actually, as I'm looking to my right at the completed sets of boxes that have been gone through and priced, I have no idea what's in them. And I just worked on them this weekend!
I've heard the advice that if you can't decide whether to keep something or not, you should box it up. If you haven't opened the box in six months, get rid of it without opening it back up. I am unable to do that. I must look again. Even now, as I'm being as ruthless as I've ever been, I'm having a great deal of difficulty letting go of the little wooden mouse that was in our children's stockings just two, or ten, years ago.
My son brought out several boxes of things he thinks he no longer wants, and it breaks my heart to see how unsentimental he is. He doesn't what to keep his remote-controlled "Bart Simpson on a Skateboard" or his chia Homer. Never even planted his chia Homer. He could still get plenty of use out of it!
As I look through the things he and his sister have discarded, I guess a little bit of it is personal, because so many of these things I bought for them. I am a careful gift buyer -- it must be attached to a memory or something meaningful for the person I'm buying for. Or it can be a joke gift, but it still has to have meaning, or it's just not funny. I guess I must have bought more for my memory than theirs.
Of course, I tend to the other direction of not wanting to get rid of enough. It's not just the things that I have a sentimental attachment to or memory of. And just because I haven't thought about it in years, doesn't mean I can't think about it now! And I do! I can use this jewelry to make some incredibly creative . . . creation that people will want! These calendars have beautiful pictures -- there must be a great way to reuse them! I just don't know what that is! But I might someday! I do draw the line at toilet paper tubes and plastic butter containers. I try to throw out pens when they're used up (why is THAT so hard to do?).
It may be genetic. When my sisters and I spent a weekend several years ago cleaning out our stored "stuff" (there is no other word for it) from our parents' attic, it was clear that Mother had just boxed everything up "as is" and put it away. We knew this because the gum wrapper chain had been carefully preserved. I was glad to find some of my childhood books, projects from my first Vacation Bible School and my plagiarized report on Holland (don't tell Mr. Smith). And honestly, I don't remember much else that was recovered.
Perhaps this is a time when I can learn to let go of things -- I'm already letting go of my most precious possessions for the past 20 years -- my children. Everything else should really pale in comparison.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Cleaning Up
In the aftermath of my daughter's move to college, husband and I spent the better part of Saturday cleaning out her room. (We are not kicking her out, but we ourselves are getting ready to move, so everything must be evaluated and discarded or boxed up.)
It was an archeological dig of her whole life. Layers of little girl, middle schooler, teenager and young woman sorted into boxes and labeled. Oh, and found some of my stuff, too, which I gladly reclaimed. Had to paint over the raspberry polka-dot wall, the back of her door where all of her friends doodled and wrote notes to each other, the places in the closet where she measured herself to see how tall she was (what kind of parent am I that my daughter had to keep her own height record?).
All the layers of activities over the years -- ballet, cheerleading, swimming, lacrosse, leadership, choir. Remnants of who she used to be, who she tried to be and glimpses of who she might turn out to be. So much left behind, so much to find ahead.
Relief that she's away, concern that she's away, hopeful for what comes her way. I can only clean her room; thankfully, I can't clean out the memories.
P.S. I have enough shampoo, conditioner and lotion to last the rest of my life. I am not exaggerating.
It was an archeological dig of her whole life. Layers of little girl, middle schooler, teenager and young woman sorted into boxes and labeled. Oh, and found some of my stuff, too, which I gladly reclaimed. Had to paint over the raspberry polka-dot wall, the back of her door where all of her friends doodled and wrote notes to each other, the places in the closet where she measured herself to see how tall she was (what kind of parent am I that my daughter had to keep her own height record?).
All the layers of activities over the years -- ballet, cheerleading, swimming, lacrosse, leadership, choir. Remnants of who she used to be, who she tried to be and glimpses of who she might turn out to be. So much left behind, so much to find ahead.
Relief that she's away, concern that she's away, hopeful for what comes her way. I can only clean her room; thankfully, I can't clean out the memories.
P.S. I have enough shampoo, conditioner and lotion to last the rest of my life. I am not exaggerating.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Letting Go
This week I escorted my daughter to the beginning of her freshman year in college. Moving from the cool climate of northern California to the desert heat of Tucson will be quite a change. Here are some things I observed:
- Palm trees are beautiful, but they are not shade trees.
- Stanley the Monkey (Tucson mascot?) looks curiously like Curious George.
- Don't walk in front of someone who has a box in front of their face. The bruises healed nicely.
- There are a lot of families shopping in Target who use their outside voices.
- Some students brought a U-Haul to move into a 6' x 12' living space. I can't even comment on this.
- My last advice to my daughter: "I love you. Please take care of yourself."
- My daughter's last advice to me: "Get a hearing aid and a GPS!"
- I am glad I am not going back to college.
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