Yeah, I haven't been here in awhile. This "place" needs some cleaning up ... old links...old pics...it needs some general house cleaning. Which seems appropriate because I am in "out with the old" mode - big time.
I had taken this week off - hoping to clean out the garage and downstairs area and get it organized. Also to tackle a growing "To Do" list, and generally get it together. The house has been horribly neglected, because I've just not been able to deal with it. It's still standing. Barely.
So back to "out with the old." The garage severely needed cleaning out. It's condition - combined with how I overturned the basement recently - then left it - could make me a contender for Hoarder of the Year. We recently had a raccoon - and IT couldn't even stand it, and left.
So, I begin. First I mostly stand in the middle with my hands on my hips and take in my overwhelming surroundings. And then just force myself to get to it. There's a pile of clothes...from late high school/early college. I sort through them and remember which event of significance I wore each thing to.
I wore this anchoring at KOMU and put the clip mic just so to cover an ink mark.
I wore this to one of my first dates w/Ryan - where his mom was there too, and I fidgeted because it felt too low cut.
This is the pink jacket I wore and completely ROCKED a liveshot - only to later have the consultant tell me I shouldn't wear that color pink, and not even comment on how much the liveshot rocked. It was a LONG time before I liked any consultants again.
And I wore this to my friend's visitation...and this to her funeral.
Keep. Keep. Keep. And Keep.
I moved on. I organized big yellow bags of "to donate" items. Yes! There are four or five of these filled. That is progress. No regrets. They can go. I better tie the tops of them in knots so they can go, and I don't have second thoughts.
Knots tied, I move on. Ah, kids' books. I shall keep the "Pat the Bunny" book we read the boys as babies that's barely holding together. I shall keep the "Good Night Moon" book that Ryan and I could recite line by line probably still to this day. I shall keep the chewed on, beat up "Wocket in my Pocket" .. because it makes me think of giggling. Donate, donate, donate .... keep keep keep, including the two "Jack in the Beanstalk" books ... not because they're special, but because I have a son named Jack. They may seem odd. But that doesn't scrape the surface of odd.
I look over at the milk crates full of files. I know in those files are high school papers...including stuff like information about Mythology. I loved Mythology. And now could probably Google all the stuff I saved. And I've never had a Mythology emergency where I needed to go to that file and save the day. Yet, I'm still wavering on the "keep" or "toss." I skip the milk crate, for now.
Then I look over at the 3 stacked boxes of beta TV tapes (the big kind), 3/4 inch tapes, and yes, even some reel-to-reel things..and probably even some carts from my radio days. 3 boxes. I think about the closet under the stairs and remember, there are a couple more boxes there. I believe one box is full of coverage tapes from my coverage of "The Death of Lady Diana" alone. I'm not even sure a 3/4 inch dub station exists anywhere so I could dub stuff down. But let's be real, even if I dubbed it down ... I'd probably want to keep the originals for "just in case", right?
I skip the boxes of tapes.
I look over at an old toy box. Inside is one of the things Ryan always brings up when making fun of my propensity for saving things. Past the old Barbie dolls, cheerleading pictures and crushed pom poms you'll find a cigar box. Inside the cigar box you'll find a contraption that you won't recognize. It looks like a torture device for mice. What it actually is, is a cast type device made for my left index finger. I crushed my knuckle playing softball my sophomore year in high school. The doctor called it "potato chips." I took care of all the "never-hads" in one swoop: first surgery, broken bone, stitches and pin in my body. The doctor said I'd probably never have the same mobility in my finger again.
He said I'd never have the same mobility in my finger again. Yes, I just repeated myself. See, I keep everything for a reason. There's an image, a feeling, a reminder with each item I just. can. not. throw away. And this finger contraption thing - it's one of them. Here's how it worked: I had to super glue a hook to my index finger nail ... (from a hook/eye set) and then put this thing over my finger and hook a rubber band to the contraption and also to the finger nail hook. The contraption helped pull my finger to stretch it and work it so I'd have 'some' mobility after the surgery. But remember, this doctor told me I couldn't do it. He told me "I'd never." And I've never taken to being told "no" or "never" or "you can't do it" well.
So I proved him wrong. I used that contraption, and did all the PAINFUL stretching and pulling and pushing and hurting. And to this day, I have FULL mobility in my finger - and I'm a lefty, so it's important! And I impressed him so much, he took pictures of my "fully mobile" finger and was published. I was his star patient.
So to you, and my husband, this thing is a weird, and kinda gross, contraption that probably should have been thrown away a long time ago.
But to me: It's a symbol of ME.
A reminder right when I needed it.
Keep.
I had taken this week off - hoping to clean out the garage and downstairs area and get it organized. Also to tackle a growing "To Do" list, and generally get it together. The house has been horribly neglected, because I've just not been able to deal with it. It's still standing. Barely.
So back to "out with the old." The garage severely needed cleaning out. It's condition - combined with how I overturned the basement recently - then left it - could make me a contender for Hoarder of the Year. We recently had a raccoon - and IT couldn't even stand it, and left.
So, I begin. First I mostly stand in the middle with my hands on my hips and take in my overwhelming surroundings. And then just force myself to get to it. There's a pile of clothes...from late high school/early college. I sort through them and remember which event of significance I wore each thing to.
I wore this anchoring at KOMU and put the clip mic just so to cover an ink mark.
I wore this to one of my first dates w/Ryan - where his mom was there too, and I fidgeted because it felt too low cut.
This is the pink jacket I wore and completely ROCKED a liveshot - only to later have the consultant tell me I shouldn't wear that color pink, and not even comment on how much the liveshot rocked. It was a LONG time before I liked any consultants again.
And I wore this to my friend's visitation...and this to her funeral.
Keep. Keep. Keep. And Keep.
I moved on. I organized big yellow bags of "to donate" items. Yes! There are four or five of these filled. That is progress. No regrets. They can go. I better tie the tops of them in knots so they can go, and I don't have second thoughts.
Knots tied, I move on. Ah, kids' books. I shall keep the "Pat the Bunny" book we read the boys as babies that's barely holding together. I shall keep the "Good Night Moon" book that Ryan and I could recite line by line probably still to this day. I shall keep the chewed on, beat up "Wocket in my Pocket" .. because it makes me think of giggling. Donate, donate, donate .... keep keep keep, including the two "Jack in the Beanstalk" books ... not because they're special, but because I have a son named Jack. They may seem odd. But that doesn't scrape the surface of odd.
I look over at the milk crates full of files. I know in those files are high school papers...including stuff like information about Mythology. I loved Mythology. And now could probably Google all the stuff I saved. And I've never had a Mythology emergency where I needed to go to that file and save the day. Yet, I'm still wavering on the "keep" or "toss." I skip the milk crate, for now.
Then I look over at the 3 stacked boxes of beta TV tapes (the big kind), 3/4 inch tapes, and yes, even some reel-to-reel things..and probably even some carts from my radio days. 3 boxes. I think about the closet under the stairs and remember, there are a couple more boxes there. I believe one box is full of coverage tapes from my coverage of "The Death of Lady Diana" alone. I'm not even sure a 3/4 inch dub station exists anywhere so I could dub stuff down. But let's be real, even if I dubbed it down ... I'd probably want to keep the originals for "just in case", right?
I skip the boxes of tapes.
I look over at an old toy box. Inside is one of the things Ryan always brings up when making fun of my propensity for saving things. Past the old Barbie dolls, cheerleading pictures and crushed pom poms you'll find a cigar box. Inside the cigar box you'll find a contraption that you won't recognize. It looks like a torture device for mice. What it actually is, is a cast type device made for my left index finger. I crushed my knuckle playing softball my sophomore year in high school. The doctor called it "potato chips." I took care of all the "never-hads" in one swoop: first surgery, broken bone, stitches and pin in my body. The doctor said I'd probably never have the same mobility in my finger again.
He said I'd never have the same mobility in my finger again. Yes, I just repeated myself. See, I keep everything for a reason. There's an image, a feeling, a reminder with each item I just. can. not. throw away. And this finger contraption thing - it's one of them. Here's how it worked: I had to super glue a hook to my index finger nail ... (from a hook/eye set) and then put this thing over my finger and hook a rubber band to the contraption and also to the finger nail hook. The contraption helped pull my finger to stretch it and work it so I'd have 'some' mobility after the surgery. But remember, this doctor told me I couldn't do it. He told me "I'd never." And I've never taken to being told "no" or "never" or "you can't do it" well.
So I proved him wrong. I used that contraption, and did all the PAINFUL stretching and pulling and pushing and hurting. And to this day, I have FULL mobility in my finger - and I'm a lefty, so it's important! And I impressed him so much, he took pictures of my "fully mobile" finger and was published. I was his star patient.
So to you, and my husband, this thing is a weird, and kinda gross, contraption that probably should have been thrown away a long time ago.
But to me: It's a symbol of ME.
A reminder right when I needed it.
Keep.
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