Monday, July 30, 2007
Pretty much done tossing, Down to organizing
Golly gosh, this place is more of a mess than when I started.
I really think that a month should have been long enough to have made some sense of it.
I am still infected with the
“I WILL have A Grand Use for this some day” sentiments.
Especially the children’s books, the yarn and crochet thread.
It’s only polite that we each get two of the bookcases for our stuff, but I can’t seem to relieve it down for my share.
Three shelves more…..
Oh, and the yarn needs more organizing. It should fit within that closet space, really it should. If I could devote so many hours to crochet, I would get through the whole supply and have a great many projects to admire.
I’m needing lunch and a shower.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Janitor Substitute at Church
My left shoulder is hollering about how much work it had to do to run the vacuum cleaner over what is affectionately known as “The Acres” at the church building. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to type.
Yes, indeedy, I am church janitor substitute for about a week. The e-mail list of duties came the night before the regular guy left to visit relatives.
During the week, the job ain’t too bad, just a little clean up and empty trash in the offices.
However, on Saturday, all the classrooms have to be tidied up, the tables sprayed with sanitizer, the restrooms ready, the vacuum going for an hour or so.
After all that got finished, I did my usual preps for Fellowship Hour in the kitchen and came on home.
It brings on some memories, this gig as custodian.
I was the janitor from July 1991 to Dec 1994.
What I realize every time I agree for this was how much I depended on my guys to help with the duties. Back in those days, Joey always ran the dust mop in the auditorium and squeegeed the windows of the front doors. Chris says he remembers putting furniture polish on the planters and preacher’s stand. I always kept track of their work hours and paid them accordingly. Joe earned a CD player and several CDs to play in it.
There are changes in the decor, with the pipe organ being most worthy of note. The room partitions were difficult for shorty me to move all those years ago, so I said I’m not even gonna try while they are so much older.
Because of my weakened wrists, I also have trouble wielding a mop, so we also crossed that off my To Do List.
Another party will be responsible, should the need arise.
There aren’t any committee meetings on the schedule, one minister is on vacation for part of it, so this week is hopefully nice and quiet.
But, oh my, the vacuum.
Open the skylight, the foot tracks show.
I’m in for now….about to have some ice cream.
Husband borrowed my car to bring home boxes.
We went through the video cabinets and have a pile of those to donate for the library sale.
I’m telling ya, this room is getting a real nice makeover.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Friday, July 27, 2007
Quiet Friday
We got a newsletter recently.
At the very end of page 2 is a joke—
Q: Who was the greatest female financier in the Bible?
A: Pharoah’s daughter. She went down to the bank of the Nile and drew out a little prophet.
The weather now is warm and raining, with gentle, easy drops, no wind or thunder and lightning.
The kind of day when I want to curl up at the end of the couch and figure out a new crochet pattern.
I think I’ll do just that.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Recipe for Zucchini Nut Bread
There has come a request for the recipe for my zucchini nut bread. The original is a page torn from Working Mother magazine, November 1981. I have tweaked it over the years, and so will write it up the way I make and bake it.
ZUCCHINI NUT BREAD
Preheat oven to 325oF
Using a small amount of margarine, grease 2 loaf pans
either 9 x 5 like the original says
or 8 x 4 like I prefer to useIn a medium mixing bowl, stir together:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup quick oats
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
3 teaspoons cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground clovesSet Aside
In a large mixing bowl, stir together:
3 large eggs, already beaten together
1 cup oil (I use sunflower)
3 tablespoons Vanilla extract
2 cups white sugarSet Aside
measure out 1 cup walnut pieces and chop them
2 cups grated ZucchiniAdd flour mixture, grated zucchini, and chopped nuts to the liquid ingredients and stir together well.
Pour and divide into two prepared loaf pans.
Bake at 325o for 60 to 70 minutes. The loaves are done when a toothpick comes out clean.
Cool pans on a wire rack for about an hour, then remove bread from pans and allow the loaves to finish cooling on the rack.
We like this bread as is, or with butter, or cream cheese.
Sometimes, I grate and measure two and a half cups of zucchini, then put it into bags for the freezer. It’s all ready to put into the recipe next time I have occasion to bake. The extra half cup is because of how the vegetable seems to shrink and get watery from time in the freezer. I drain it in a colander when I have frozen zucchini.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Mutterings from Me
This has been one of those days when I seem to catch myself coming and going.
Things begun are not completed in a timely fashion.
I went down to the storeroom and could not remember what I wanted, so I climbed back up the stairs and went over to the kitchen sink.
There was a cutting board needing washed, so I did that, completely forgetting the first reason I went to the storeroom.
Chris asked about a shirt to wear, so I decided to set up my ironing board to use as a sorting table.
I found his shirt, remembered what I needed from the food shelf.
It was so I could get started on a batch of zucchini nut bread. That squash has been in the drawer since last Tuesday, and here it is market day again.
While I was down there, the dryer finished, so I put more wet laundry in.
The reason I’m doing laundry on a Tuesday is everything from our bed is getting washed and heat dry.
The other night I got woke up by a needle pain on my hip.
Fleas! in OUR BED!! even after both cats got their monthly treatment for ADVANTAGE (yeah the link is broken—check with your veterinarian).
I’m thinking how the little critters got there is that the property maintenance man (aka our head of household, top wage-earner, and all ‘round wonderful husband) has been out in the yard doing um, yard stuff.
You know, spraying herbicides, mowing grass, trimming bushes, pruning tree branches.
He’s been in the places where bugs live.
And they like where we live.
So, I bought a bottle of fleakiller spray stuff which is allowed to be used on upholstery.
Supposedly, the people and pets can resume normal life an hour later.
The first night, all was well, and we slept fine.
Then last evening, I went to the Concert on the Quad (the Irish dancing music was great, and I finished a white hat on the knitting loom), meaning I was sitting in the middle of a nice area of grass, while nearby was a family with a dog on a leash.
Perhaps I was the warm body who brought home the opportunity for the next feeding frenzy, because last night, I got a new pain and itch on my ribs. Let’s just say that my supportive undergarment is getting shuffled around a whole bunch today.
Along with the expense of the ADVANTAGE for the cats, spray for the mattress, I have to add in some hydrocortisone cream for my skin.
And doing laundry an extra time in the middle of the week.
Where was I? are you still reading my jibberish?
While the bread was baking, I decided I would love to have some red meat. Diving into the chest freezer brought up chicken breasts and salmon, but nothing previously on four feet.
Yesterday, I discovered the handle for the hose nozzle was broken. I made a special trip to buy a new one because I wanted to get done what I wanted to finish.
Today, I wanted bloody meat, we might even call it a craving, so as soon as the z-loaves came out of the oven to cool, again I drove the car to a store for a specific item. Not driving the car for 3 days leaves a balance for the times when I drive it 4 days in a row. A store which also sells dry cat food, but no, that item did not get put into the cart.
The roast is in the crockpot. I made a big enough mess in the kitchen to use up a zucchini, so the countertop seems crowded right now. And I’m planning on going to the Trailside Market to buy vegesides for supper.
I’m keeping busy without trying too hard. Thank goodness I don’t have a plan for reading the latest Harry Potter book. The sound of pages turning simultaneously all over the world was giving me a headache last weekend.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Sunday, July 22, 2007
When Coffee Prep and Phone Call overlap
So I’m doing my usual coffee and snacks prep in the church kitchen this fine Sunday morning. The microphone feed from the Worship Service is working well. I’m listening while measuring out the coffee into the filters.
The phone rings.
I wait while it rings 3 times, hoping that the sound tech or the office assistant will get it-out there, as in-not me.
Nope, so on the 4th chime, I pick up.
It’s a woman on the other end, asking to speak with the pastor, by name. I tell her he is in front of the auditorium at the microphone, and cannot come to the phone right now. I can take her name and number, will give him a message.
She goes into her story about needing groceries.
and how Soenso got some help with her groceries.
and Pastor would be a good guy to help her out.
I mentioned again that he was quite busy, and I would take a message. It might be better to call during the week, when the pastor is actually in his office.
She finally gave me her name and number, which I wrote on a slip of paper with the first available writing utensil I could find—a child’s marker, in the color lavender. Oy, don’t anybody leave a pen near the phone?
It took a bit more mumbling, but finally, I was able to put the receiver back into its cradle.
I finished the writing on the note, then took it to lay on the minister’s desk.
By now, I am about 10 minutes behind for my set-up.
Two other ladies came in the kitchen then.
One asked if she could help by refilling the ice cube trays.
The other asked about the phone message.
I told them the tale about a woman needing groceries, and could the pastor help out.
We all got to giggling about it.
The thing is, the minister’s sermon, coming through the sound system, was about the parable of being a neighbor, using the injured man and his Good Samaritan as an example.
He also mentioned about helping a woman with groceries in the recent past.
Here, by an inconvenient phone call, was the follow-up.
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard a hard luck story.
As you’ve read before, our family’s been through financial stress.
We are in position now to help when we choose to do so, but it would have to be beyond the charities already written within our budget.
Hearing about a woman’s problems at the same time as the minister’s message did seem to come as a double whammy. I am all too well aware of compassion fatigue, and have to step back quite often to examine why I am in the middle of yet another situation where I think somebody can’t get it done without me.
But the minister’s message was about making a choice to help. Taking one small step, deciding on one certain area with the best comfort and ability to fulfill a service.
A little later in the morning, in a tone of voice I couldn’t possibly believe to be serious, a man stood right in front of me and said ‘you just can’t quit’ doing the coffee and snacks for the Fellowship Hour.
Well, I have given notice as of Labor Day, and I think 3 years is enough for me in the position, and really, somebody else within the congregation should have the chance to do some serving, to show a different flair for the job.
Especially if answering the phone means making nice.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Friday, July 20, 2007
Another Assault on Telltale Papers
Early in 1983, at almost 8 months pregnant with my second baby, the doctor mentioned that it might be best for my health to leave my job as the headwaitress of a fine restaurant. I had to get off my feet, give the veins in my legs a rest, and bring my blood pressure down.
Two days later, I took my two-year-old son by the hand and dropped him off at a church drop-in childcare for the morning (really, all they required was a name and a phone number. Since I would be busy, I gave them my husband’s number for his job, knowing full well he would not be able to do much if a call should happen), then went to the government agency office which would tell me what to do to get foodstamps.
I was also introduced to the WIC Program. Believe me, back then, understanding eligibility was not just a click away like that link would suggest.
I went back home and gathered all the financially proper papers from the last month. These included the utility bills, rent receipt, and paycheck stubs. Thank goodness I kept anything to do with money all in one folder on the shelf. It took a couple hours to come to the conclusion that we would not be eligible for foodstamps, but WIC could begin for both myself who was pregnant and our older son because he was under 5 years of age.
The social worker told me to come back in a month, when our income had been reduced enough due to my lack of a job, and re-apply for foodstamps. She also told me to cancel any other financial properties I might have, as they would count as assets.
I picked up my son at the church right at the time limit he would be allowed to stay for free. Neither he nor I had eaten since breakfast, so I stopped at ‘my’ restaurant for my last paycheck and our lunch, which the owner signed off for the bill.
I had to write to a life insurance company which had a policy in my name. My parents had been paying on it since I was a little girl, and Mom always said she would be able to have enough to bury me. I didn’t tell Mom I had to do this, I didn’t want her to know I applied for foodstamps. She found out years later, and still holds it against me that I didn’t tell her at the time.
The paperwork and check from that policy arrived, and I paid two months rent in advance with it.
Then I went back to the govt office, new month’s bills and papers in hand. Again, we were ineligible, because of the cash from the insurance policy.
Meanwhile, a friend needed help with childcare a few days a week. She would pay in cash, and my son would have someone to play with while I “rested”. Those long winter days at home with two little kids are some of my best memories of those times.
We moved to Illinois when second son was six weeks old.
Within a week, I found the WIC office for an appointment.
All my papers now included a hospital bill for labor and delivery, and Husband did not have a job here yet. I had to ask my father-in-law to write a note saying how much “rent” we would be paying for living in a house he owned.
Yes, the WIC transferred from one state to another. The social worker also helped me to apply for foodstamps, we had another mouth to feed, and that hospital bill really was a doozy.
A few posts back, when I talked about the shredding, someone asked why I kept so many papers, what were they needed for.
I don’t know if she has ever had to be on public aid, but the lessons taught takes a big toll.
The mental attitude one must maintain for eligibility, the attention to detail for every tiny bit of money in or out brings on an obsession I cannot describe. All the Sunday School lessons about honesty for cash income get pushed back to the dark recesses in order to get food for the family for another month.
Then all those papers get spread out across a desk, and an adding machine begins clicking.
Sometimes, another govt officer gets consulted.
When husband finds a job, and gets a chance for overtime and takes it, because the winter is the coldest in years, and the heating bill skyrockets….well, those govt officers can’t take that into account. Paystubs show that Income increased, so foodstamps must decrease to meet the charted scale for the number of members in the family.
We were on foodstamps for about 2 years. When the space shuttle Challenger blew up, my young family was sitting at the lunch table having goodies provided by WIC and foodstamps.
We needed the help then, and I never begrudge anybody ever asking for public aid.
I know what they have to go through to get it.
I found that box the other day.
The one holding the papers as proof that we had been needy. With all the telltale bills and paystubs paperclipped together in monthly increments, along with the proper copy of the govt form. One natural gas company bill, the whole paper was the color RED, as the final notice when the meter would be shut off. Calling back my memory of the chilly April morning when a very strong looking woman was standing on my front porch with a monkey wrench in her hand.
With one receipt from a children’s clothing catalog pressed between, with a note saying the purchase made with birthday money from a grandmother.
One envelope contained one remaining foodstamp booklet, with $4 worth still attached. As if I had decided that the last $4 would never be worth the trouble to spend. That I had enough of laying my life out for other people working in rooms without windows to assess and pass judgement.
The need to keep, to make sure I had physical proof of circumstances did not pass lightly. The box contained papers with the dates 1984 to 1994. Minutes for working and calendars and service orders and paystubs and computer printouts of so many things regarding finances.
More Another Assault on Telltale Papers... below the fold
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
A Week in the Summer
Trailside Market sweet corn
Diane shucking corn for supper
The way I cook it
I have a gas stove
Bring a pot of water to a boil. Shake in some sugar.
Add ears of corn, one at a time.
Bring water to a boil again. No lid on the pot.
Reduce heat to medium low, set timer for 5 minutes.
At the beep, turn off burner.
Let the corn sit there in the water for 5 minutes more.
Remove ears of corn from water to a platter.
Enjoy with salted butter.
Beside shredding old papers, which brought forth my 5th car load to the recycle bins, I have been busy all week.
I held a newborn baby, watched a man get baptized in the Anabaptist tradition, attended the funeral of a long-time neighbor, the wedding of a girl who graduated high school same year as my oldest son, and a Fellowship Meal where I sat at the lunch table with somebody my own age.
All these activities seem all inclusive of what it means to be a person, a member of the community.
Also had some hobby time when I baked zucchini nut bread to take to my husband’s office, banana nut bread for the luncheon, crocheted 2 cross bookmarks, 3 potholders, and put 9 rows on the latest baby blankie.
Hope your summer is doing as well….
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Still Going with the Papers
Well, I didn’t think it could be done, but I went through SEVEN (‘7’) boxes of old papers and pictures which were removed from the closet and cabinet.
Two newly purchased Rubbermaid bins (actually made in the USA) have been brought into service as the For Keeps storage containers.
They are now on the top shelf of the closet (only the top shelf, not the whole area), where I will forget again for years.
I began clearing children’s books off the shelf.
Even as a TA, I don’t really need all the kiddie books I own.
Yessirree, the first shelf is only half full now, with the rest in a box going to the public library’s book sale.
No, Wait! what’s this? at the far right side?
a folder with a newspaper clipping dangling out of the corner
Aarrgghh! I simply cannot face another keepsake right now.
Except this folder holds information about birth of Son #3.
Paper clipping with the father’s name written incorrectly as Gary.
The list of who brought in meals, with marks for Thank You notes.
with the picture sent out to friends and family
brothers Lucas and Joey meet their brother Christopher 3/31/85
I put the folder, still intact, back on the bookshelf for now.
I don’t think my foot would like it much if I had to climb up on the stool again so soon.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Feet and Heart Both Ache
My left heel hurt so bad this morning that I barely could walk to the bathroom. I believe I must have overworked myself yesterday, what with riding my bicycle to breakfast, climbing up and down on the footstool during the afternoon to organize the closet, then in the evening, walking while carrying my lawn chair and crochet bag down and back for the Concert on the Quad.
I fear the plantar fasciitis has returned.
It is probably purely coincidence that I wrote about the same thing last year. I hope to be able to delay buying new shoes for a month or so, closer to when I have a job for the beginning of school.
Meanwhile, I need to renew my vigor for the proper exercises.
Later in the morning, I went to the funeral service of a neighbor. She changed houses only a month ago, moved a few blocks, so I still think of her as a neighbor. She was not quite five years older than I am. On July 4th, she had just left a family gathering and was driving her grandson to another place, and there was a terrible car accident.
According to the news article, she was pronounced at the scene.
The casket was closed, but a real nice photo was set on a stand nearby.
A good-size crowd, very diverse in looks, reasons for attending.
She was quite busy with her church, and the regular minister spoke a fine message, but he was obviously moved about how she is younger than he, and gone so suddenly.
Her grandson was at the service today, with some visible bruises.
New storage bins were purchased for the closet. There will come a day when I do more than sort this stuff, maybe organize them into nice scrapbooks by year or subject. I sure don’t want to wait until a funeral brings the need to trot out mementos.
But right now, the floor needs cleared for space, and some exercise equipment is a necessity by the time cold weather comes.
So the pile will get contained and stored on the high shelf awhile longer.
Seven boxes of papers are now One, and a smaller one for pictures.
Having been in the Library Club in high school, I’m having a very difficult time with all this.
Maybe someday, a little kid will ask what’s this stuff about? because most of our recent happenings are on back-up discs and viewed on screen.
Will it matter to somebody in a hundred years?
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Monday, July 09, 2007
Dan Got the Most Votes
My sister Denise sent an e-mail saying:
Dan just called me
and said Field & Stream called him
and that he won by 75 votes!!!
He did not know what the final total was.
He was very excited to be going to Springfield.
Please tell your friends thanks.
and Here I am!! Thank You All for Your Support!!
nothing quite like having friends with computers…...
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Here’s an ‘Eight Things About Me’ Meme
Over at Webs Random Ideas I was tagged to write some answers for the Eight Things About Me meme.
Along with the Evil One, Decrepit Old Fool, and A View to an Uzz, I do believe I’ll join in.
* Players have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
* Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
* People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.*
Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
~~When I look in the mirror today, I am surprised that my face is not 33 years old. That first birthday, the summer after my dad died, I took it hard. My mind couldn’t comprehend such loss.
Earning an Associate of Arts degree the same month I made it to age 50 is helping me to get back on track. I hadn’t really planned on using up so many years from my body.
~~When I walked down the aisle for my wedding, the rain of an Autumn thunderstorm was pounding on the roof of the church. I remember thinking I was glad for the darker quality in the pictures because the hideous yellow glass windows of the building messed up so many celebration photo opps.
The windows are still there, but carefully covered with blinds.
~~When I was in 3rd grade, I was done with my work, and it was almost time for recess. In anticipation, I took my ball and jacks bag out and laid it on the corner of my desk. My Aunt Sylvia was a seamstress/alterations expert for a department store, and she had sewn the bag for me out of a scrap of purple velvet.
Grandma used her long crochet hook to pull through a gold colored string to close it.
I loved that drawstring bag, and my friends and I had so much fun playing jacks on the playground.
My teacher was walking up and down the aisles making sure students stayed working. She scooped up my purple bag with her hand, went up to her desk, opened the bottom drawer, and dropped my bag into it. I don’t know why—I wasn’t bothering with it or disturbing my neighbors.
When it came time for recess, I asked for my jacks. She said no, that I had to wait until school was over.
It was a long and dismal afternoon for me.
At the end of the day, I went up and waited beside her desk. She opened her bottom drawer, but my bag of ball and jacks was not there. She seemed as surprised as I was.
I cried all the way home.
My mother wrote a note for the teacher, about how if the bag got returned she would make sure I wouldn’t carry it to school to cause any more trouble (I never understood what trouble I was in anyway—the bag was just waiting there on my desk).
I never heard anything else about it.
My purple bag never did come back to me.
Since then, I crocheted two more purple bags w/ yellow strings
but I still wonder if the velvet one made someone else happy
~~Finding and reading the works of so many interesting blogging friends, and using my computer for news and research, I rarely read a real book now. When I do, I prefer hardback.
~~My first job was when I was 12 years old, washing the floor for a neighbor lady. I would get my own chores done at home first, then go to her house later on Saturdays. I had to take all the chairs to the other room, pick up the scatter rugs and take them outside to shake hard. I had to sweep every corner of the kitchen and small bathroom just off it.
On my hands and knees, using rag and bucket full of “hot, soapy ammonia water” filled from the bathtub faucet, I would wash the floors, then go over it again with rinse water.
While we waited for the floor to dry, we would sit in wingback chairs in the front room, having a treat of cookies and tea from a tray on the coffee table. The tea had been waiting in a china pot under a crocheted cozy, but sometimes was lukewarm by the time we got to it.
When the floor was ready, I put back the rugs and chairs and got “paid for my time”.
Mrs. T would hand me $5 for this work of just over an hour.
This was high wages for a girl my age, plus tea and cookies was yummy.
~~My husband taught me to drive a clutch-and-stickshift car a few months after we got married. I came to prefer to drive a car with a standard transmission, but I fear my sore wrists will protest. It doesn’t matter right this minute, the car we own has an automatic, and we don’t plan on buying another car soon.
~~In our bedroom, I keep a small stool beside the chest of drawers. When I get dressed in the morning, I sit on the stool to put on my socks, start my pants, then my shoes.
I had to figure out how to do this when I had a job beginning at 5:45am and didn’t want to bother my husband sleeping on the other side of the bed.
~~I don’t like Corelleware dishes because of the sound the utensil makes when I’m picking up the noodles or whatever food is there. I much prefer melamine, because it meets the metal with a more pleasant tone.
When my father-in-law gave me a set of Corelleware dishes for a Christmas gift, I politely wrote a Thank You note, then put them into a side cupboard still in their box.
My husband brought them back out and insisted we use them, until one of our sons shoved a dish off the tray of the high chair. The plate shattered into a million pointy sharp pieces.
These days, we have a couple Corelleware plates for use in the microwave, but all others are long gone without regrets.
If I could be dictator in the church kitchen, those Corelleware dishes would meet the same fate.
There, eight little stories. Now I am supposed to Tag somebody.
Most of the folks I read out there in Blogland already have so much to say that they don’t need any prompting or making a list.
No, I think I’ll follow DOF’s lead and say
“if you feel like picking it up, enjoy!”
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Today’s reading list
First place I go every morning is Comics Online.
Decrepit Old Fool has Questions Three about experiences in education.
Vitamin Sea has a wonderful way to cook burgers. Actually, her family is having a pretty fun week, including a boat, so read some other writings as well.
Momma’s Corner celebrated the holiday with her family earlier in the week. She has something to say about current events.
I’ve been back about six times to watch the kittens frolic at Truths and Half Truths.
I realize most of these are in my sidebar already, but a little extra touch is nice.
Also, about 40 hours left to Vote for Dan as the Total Outdoorsman.
A new picture is up, my sister (his mom) is the photographer.
Now I gotta get back to working papers through the shredder.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
ps with all those open links, I have the Comments closed
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Don’t Hesitate beside the Shredder
I’m tired, folks.
Really and truly at the bottom of energy.
All day long, with an eats break once in awhile, sitting between the shredder and a lopsided pile of dead tree products, I have been going through boxes and bags of our family history.
For Christmas 1999, we received 109 greeting cards, many with photos and newsletters tucked inside.
And all of them were stashed away, in a nice bundle, inside a plastic bag, taped shut with 1999 marked on it.
There were over 20 such bags in that cabinet I emptied.
There are some who would say I should save the fronts and send them off to some do-gooder outfit that makes new cards from old cards.
I’m on a personal mission here, which is to CLEAR SPACE Do Not Waste Thoughts so most of those cards were dropped into a box and hauled away to the town’s re-cycle bin on Walnut Street.
That word up there Do-Gooder reminds me of something that happened a couple weeks ago. Chris and I were talking in the kitchen, and he asked me if that is a real word, or did I just make it up, since I am the only person he has ever heard to say it.
So I went around and asked some folks at Sunday School if they knew the meaning of the word.
Of the seven persons I asked, in age from their late 20s to early 60s, and who had grown up in 4 states and one province of Canada, all knew the general idea of a do-gooder.
My mental health and smart mother status remain intact.
Anyway, loaded into the car at sunset this evening, were two bins of shredded papers, a trash can of paper, a large box of greeting cards, and our usual container for cans and bottles. When Husband wanted to put in another box of old paperback books, I had to say there was no more room, we’d have to go another trip later.
As Uzz said in the comments of the last post, it kills me to throw stuff away. And yet, how long should I keep the bulletin for a wedding, when the marriage lasted a few months short of five years?
I had three sons of my own, and dozens of youngsters under my care for years. There are only so many rainbows and butterflies, or space aliens drawn with crayons I can keep track of.
Some items are no-brainers. Both our dads are long gone, but while we had them, they wrote chatty letters and sent pictures and post cards for the grandsons. Just seeing their handwriting causes a tightness in my throat.
Their memories will get re-sorted and lovingly organized later.
Another trend I noticed was Thank You notes. Usually for something I had crocheted as a gift. Good Glory, I sure do keep busy with hook and thread. However, I began having the troubles with carpel tunnel aches in the Fall of 1997, and so could not crochet. My Thank You notes dwindled off for a year, until after surgeries on my wrists in the Summer of 1998. The first item I crocheted was a cross for a wedding the last Saturday in September, and sure enough, a note came back awhile later.
The notes for Husband are along the line of “thanks for your help with my computer” or “you did a terrific job with the program”.
He told me to shred them all, what’s done is over now.
Our computer correspondence must have picked up around 1995. There are fewer contents in the bundles since then, considering many folks are sending e-mails. I must admit, I do print out some of the nicest writings, but I hit Delete more often than I would if the message had come with a stamp on it.
Which is another place the Thank You note comes in—many are done with actual handwriting on a pretty card, so it seems a travesty to destroy a thing of beauty.
There are cars parked in front of the house, with their owners walking up the street to the city park for the fireworks.
I’d better get out to the end of our front walk and have a look, too.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Monday, July 02, 2007
Temporarily Empty Cabinet
Do you know why this cabinet shelf is now empty?
because I pulled out all the birthday and Christmas cards, and many, many, many other paper keepsakes of all our years of living here.
It’s probably not good to be keeping each and every one of these items. They are in boxes next to the shredder machine.
Decisions not easy today.
~~love and Huggs, Diane