Sleeping Room and Play Room

Because Teddy wanted Lucia during naptime or at bedtime, I decided last week that we'd try to rearrange the rooms so that one room (darker, cooler, and quieter) would be for sleeping and the other (brighter and noisier) would be for play.  After advice from several friends on how to help children share a room, and adjusting for Teddy not actually taking a nap, we seem to have reached a nice arrangement.  I am inordinately happy with both of the rooms, especially since no toys are allowed in the sleeping room, and there's still a mattress in the playroom in case parents need to lie down and be played around.

The former nursery, with curtains still drawn up to be away from the baby:

 Still has the changing table and nursing glider:

 And the playroom, with the large bookcase still to sort out, but plenty of bright sunshine to play in.

 Here is an example of the rest of the house, though:

We'll just leave it at that.

In other news, this week I mailed out four packages of things that need to get out of our house, and I'm quite pleased with myself for making the decision and sticking to it and finally getting those packed up and sent!  (Only took four months for the biggest one...)

We have a house inspection tomorrow morning for insurance purposes, so I need to make especially sure that the attic is accessible via the closets, and that I don't have to cry about the rest of the house.  (Not sure I will do or be able to do the second part, but I could at least try.)

I'm transcribing the third in a series of Orthodox Christian parenting lectures and was struck by the analysis of temptation.  I recognized myself when I wake up: I have definitely gotten into the rut of making the bad decision.  So I decided to set my alarm and wake up.  Lo and behold, I've done a load of laundry, prepared banana bread to give away and library books to return, went to library storytime, fed lunch to myself and the kids, and got an oil change for the car.  Not bad for one morning, especially when set against: eat cookie, read books and internet, and glare at children.  Now I'm going to go read TG a book.

This Consignment Idea

Let's just say I'm glad it's only a semi-annual event, and that I only found out about it yesterday.

Reasons I feel guilty:
*As you received without pay... give without pay. Yes, I plan on giving the money to the parish, but I do want to take out expenses. That doesn't really sound like it's in the spirit of the apostles. Is this the first step down a path I don't want to walk?
*How can I give away things which people gave to me!? (I am trying to be ruthless and repress that thought. I can't quite bear to part with the handmade blankets, even if we'll never use them.)
*I don't even pay this much attention to what I wear.
*Keeping anything to provide for a mythical third child. Am I robbing someone by keeping things I'm not using right away? Is it bad to keep things for my grandchildren?

I think I'd do a lot better by ignoring some of these questions rather than trying to answer them.

Reasons I feel frustrated:
*Gah! Children's hangers!
*I have no idea how to price anything. Why? People are VERY generous to me. I get excited when I get to buy something for TG, and I'm still on single digits there, apart from getting onesies in bulk ... which was mostly to use up gift cards, but was still exciting because I got to pick them out. I have never bought children's shoes (except pool shoes).

When I buy clothes for myself, unless I have the burden of a gift card (here, have money, but you have to spend it at a particular place: it's the thought that counts), I prefer to shop at a thrift store. Mostly because if I get stressed out, there's a toy section, a household section, and, most importantly, a book section. They don't have those right nearby in the stores in the mall. So I get sticker shock going into any place that sells things first-hand. (Don't get me started on bookstores. Even the Goodwill bookstore is too expensive in my reverse snobbery mind.)

I think I have departed from the intent of the blog. (Both in what I've been writing and doing consignment.) Well, we'll see how it goes.

I've selected things to sell. I have pricing supplies. I need to clean a baby backpack. I've put everything on hangers (wretched little beasts). I've sorted things by size. I've even found some nice-enough children's toys in the mass covering the dining room table. I've started attaching little tags with little safety pins, completing everything but the clothes themselves.

This is a lot more painstaking than shoving things in boxes or bags and saying, "Yes, please come and get things," to the people who ask for donations periodically.

Tomorrow I'll see about pricing and numbering and entering things online. (Ugh to the first.) But there are still other things to do, like finish the bulletin and see about a sample Irish dance class for TG. (I am using all my willpower: "You will enjoy this enough to continue!")

What else is maddening is that this doesn't even deal with the baby clothes which are too large for LC, nor the boy's clothes too large for TG. It's a start, though, and my husband seems happier. We'll end on that note.

Clearing the Clearinghouse

Why the gap in blogging? Well, boys and girls, let's review what I've learned: don't hold both children up at the same time. No, it doesn't matter that it's only for ten seconds. It really hurts, for a surprising length of time. What else have I learned? Pulling a back muscle causes an entirely different kind of pain. This lasts longer and is more intense, and while the lying in bed and reading library books part of things is really nice, the necessity of doing so for three days straight before you can walk upright, let alone hold a baby while doing so... not so much fun. Oh, and that thing I learned about not holding both children at the same time? That lesson didn't stick, so I did it again. REALLY. LEARN THIS ALREADY.

And TG turned three. I am very happy that he is no longer a two-year-old. Much of the drama has vanished over the course of the past two weeks. I even like him again. (This is a huge relief.)

So yesterday, while I nursed LC, my husband brought things out of TG's closet: lots of toys and blankets, some from my childhood. We're keeping the little record player, although it probably needs a new needle and we only have three records. I'm giving up the 80s robot that I never really liked playing with anyhow. Other toys I need to check with my sister about, and some things I plan to use with Teddy in the near future (a wipe-off letter-tracing kit and a children's atlas, both of which I'd forgotten about).

My husband is having a really tough time at work, so I tried to get some work done on the two messiest parts of the main area. (Ignore the kitchen with me. I'm not leaving clothes out for the brownies... but then again, I'm not leaving out porridge either.) So I cleaned the living room of the birthday debris. The boxes that toys come in seem to be much harder to disassemble than before!

But then I forgot to take a picture of that "after," and used the living room to work on the things in the Florida room, namely, the giant table of baby clothes. Our parishioners have been so very generous with us. So I sorted through two sets of clothing: 0-3 months and 3-6 months so far. I found a children's consignment place which has two events a year. I have less than a week to get things ready and take them there. It costs $9 to participate, and I need hangers and tags, but they'll donate all the leftovers, and I'm planning to use any profit to donate to our parish. (Not that I don't want to donate clothes to other charities, but I'd like to reduce at least a little of our own parish's debt...)

Without further ado, here are some useless before-and-after photos.

Florida room before	Florida room after
living room before	living room after

Aside from noting that I'm really bad *and* lazy about taking pictures today, in the last picture there are two bins on the floor around the coffee table. One bin is sorted clothes kept for a possible future child, and the other bin is Things To Go Out of Our House.

Today I have learned I never want to work in a store that sells baby clothes.

How do I know I've made progress? My husband is happy.

Memorabilia

Went through the first box of memorabilia. I left all the adolescent poetry and writings for later, because, well, they're awful. I did throw out quite a bit, and had fun going through some things (like my collection of funny quotations which was started in college).

I also found the box with all my Irish dancing medals in it. Both kids like the way they clinked. I think my favorite part of going to feiseanna was just getting to be with my dad. (My mother thought it a waste of money; she sewed the pieces of my costume together and I believe that was the extent of her involvement. All the other dancers had their mothers involved. The only other fathers there were involved because the whole family danced. My father used to say that he had two left feet and they were both wooden.) This past Saturday, we went to the Clearwater Beach Feis and had fun. TG liked the "noisy" shoes, and LC was simply delighted. (She delighted more than one person, too!) Still uncertain whether TG will want to learn, but I have the information about the dancing school closest to us, who offers a free first lesson. Maybe I'll wait until after his third birthday this month.

This box is the hardest I've had to go through, maybe because I've gone through it so many times before. I don't need old fencing programs, or the poetry/art magazines from high school (which I wasn't in).

The first item from the box was a reminder of a very low point in life, so that made it even harder to get through the rest of the box... which took all day.

I did manage to sort through the next three-months'-worth of baby clothes, as LC is growing at a ferocious pace. As she is also starting to be ferociously mobile, the husband took apart the nursery bed and put the mattress on the floor, with a rug and some padded boxes (the mattress is a foot tall), to give her more room than the cage-like crib affords. So maybe that will help get rid of that set of antique furniture. It's nice to have a child's room with lots of playspace on the floor, I think.

I've been doing my best to hang onto the resolutions, marking down the times I get up and go to sleep, my weight, my current Psalm verse for memorization, and the rung on the Hacker's Diet fitness ladder. I did have to realize that I can't do the prone leg lifts and it's not my fault because I had back surgery and am physically unable to do these. That realization was quite a relief, as the metal rods at least mean that it's not *just* that I'm really out of shape and lazy.

I'm getting slightly better about going to bed before midnight, and have finished memorizing the first two psalms. The weight is fluctuating all over, which I think is partially because, although I try to weigh myself first thing in the morning, sometimes it's only after I nurse LC and other times before, so that would kinda make a huge difference. I feel less flabby when I'm exercising, though, and I have been mostly successful at limiting my dessert intake.

I may be starting to burn out on the decluttering, and I think the best choice here is to work some more on the theology of this whole plan. I very much appreciate the comments shared on this blog so far. Please keep me in your prayers.

Uncluttering From Afar

Today I disposed of my prom dress, my high school letter jacket, and my Irish dance costume. My mother was going through one of the closets at her house and emailed me about those items. It was hard, but I will never wear them again.

Inch at a Time

Husband took out the recycling and made a trip to Goodwill.

A Find

I forgot to add that I found two punchcards with the University of Notre Dame seal on them, as a bookmark in one of my father's college music books.

Oh, yes, I'm keeping those. I learned to write my name on punchcards, but I've never seen a Notre Dame seal on one before.

Slogging

Went through three more boxes of sheet music.

I kept the flute music. Theoretically, I will resume playing the flute, and that's already been mostly culled. I did skip over the high school and college marching music (and it's really no good, having just the flute part).

I kept a few books of the Irish music. I threw away* photocopied books and books of Irish music (in Irish and in English) and felt horrible at the waste of time in the first place when my father copied them.

*Paper gets recycled. Usable music gets donated. Most of the time the photocopied books are classified as "paper."

*sigh* But I won't have to carry them around from move to move. I won't have to move boxes and boxes of "music I might use someday" to get to the things that I'm looking for.

I did keep a cute old ukulele book. We do have a ukulele, at least.

Then there was the stuff from my father's college and post-undergrad days. He was heavily involved in Roman Catholic liturgical folk music. I kept a few folders-with-brads I thought my sisters might like (but I was too young to remember). I kept a few booklets of, well, junk, just because it had my father's name on it. (But I did give away duplicates, at least.) I threw out mimeographed sheets with "Cum By Ya" [sic] and other things. I kept a couple of liturgical music binders which were used in church when I was growing up. I occasionally get songs stuck in my head, and even though I'm not Catholic, and even though I've heard about "those post-Vatican-II musical atrocities," I still like them. It's sort of like comfort food.

Then there was the Christmas music. Really, I don't need twenty photocopies of "Joy to the World." They were all mixed in with everything else. In another box, there should be about 20 copies of one carol book, and I kept a book of carols for piano, and a couple of photocopies of my father's favorite Christmas carol ("The Cherry-Tree Carol": my husband also likes it because it reflects the Orthodox teaching in the first line: "When Joseph was an old man...").

There's only one box left in the first stack. Whew.

I also got something off my to-do list, which was to call the lady back about Irish dancing classes for Teddy. They do accept students as young as three, and the rates didn't seem unreasonable, and the first class is free. We'll try to go to the feis up in Clearwater this Saturday and see whether or not his interest is piqued. (She didn't know enough about an adult class, but I figure I can ask when we go. Not that I'm in shape enough to last through one dance, let alone an entire lesson, but that'll be another post.)

There're more thinks percolating around in my head, but I'll stop here and let them ferment a little more so there's a chance of fewer mixed metaphors when they do get poured out. (Did the metaphors there just make you go "blech," too? Well, that's why I'm stopping here.)

Progress, then Allergies

August 23:

Action items from desk:

Cut out tiny icons from calendar to put together another tiny book like the one I sent Mat. Anna for her children's dollhouse. (TG wanted to keep it, so I'll make one for him.)

Recorded ice cream prices from grocery store ads in Blue Bell spreadsheet.

Called to be removed from catalog mailing list.

Husband steamed apart paper icons and TG's book.

Cut out coupon and recycled flyer.

Made correction in vespers supplement and uploaded corrected file.

Registered to vote (change of address ... sent in April ...).

Sent away for free umbrella.

The hardest thing about dealing with paper stuff, I find, is not the "to be filed" section, but the "action" section. There's still a book I want to mail, a book I want to find (I wrote cryptic notes; I found it while searching for another book on interlibrary loan, so the database I searched is only available at the library), and three liturgical booklets to correct. And some other stuff, I'm sure.

***
We've made our first foray into the "project closet." Office supplies and diplomas are so far being kept (stored in the filing cabinets now empty of genealogy materials), but we've gotten rid of some music from an aunt, from a cousin. Then we started on the first box: Irish music.

My father collected. Everything, but mostly Irish things, especially stamps and music. My mother donated most of his music collection (the cds, at least) to a university whose Irish studies department was happy to get it. Some of the cds had never been opened, and some were duplicates. It was still boxes and boxes full. I think when we moved here, there were at least seven boxes of music—sheet music.

So as I was going through this box, I felt that I was rejecting part of my father. But I don't need folders and folders of photocopied books of music. I don't need music books for harp, harmonica, and guitar. I don't even need music books for the flute. I think I managed to keep about an inch or so of "keep" items (including a music book with liturgical Irish and no English which I am hoping a friend will enjoy) and a few things of "potential keep" items.

I didn't expect to cry.

***
I had saved the above in a draft, then continued with another box and the Fixing of the Last Diaper in the afternoon. (My husband was right: it took less than 15 minutes; how come I waited four months?) I didn't get back to the post because of the Attack of the Allergies. Yesterday morning all that was accomplished was Disney movies (Dumbo, The Jungle Book, and The Black Cauldron). For the time being, I've given up on psalm memorization and exercise and am focusing on breathing and sleeping.

The project closet, right side, showing a marked decrease in the first stack of boxes. The two piles on the floor are what I've kept out of two of the music boxes. Four more boxes to go in that stack.

First Time for Everything

Today, I did something I have never (to my recollection) done before. I threw away greeting cards. Granted, most of them were repetitive (I think I'll remember having the baby, and Christmas cards aren't all that memorable), and many were from people I don't actually know. (I *try* to match parishioner faces and names, but there's usually at least one small distraction (about two years old), and the parish directory is out-of-date.) I did check that I had important addresses in my Google Contacts, but I threw out unnecessary envelopes.

I was looking for a certain gift card for this coming Saturday's baby shower, so I cleaned off my desk. I have six of those little "inbox" things that stack up. Those were overfull, and there was a pile on my desk as well as a box (a small box, but still) on the floor. We will carefully omit any mention of boxes in closets which may or may not have "to be sorted and/or filed" paperwork. I didn't find the giftcard I was looking for (haven't gone through the small box on the floor yet...), but I did find over $100 in gift cards.

*sigh* I don't like shopping, and when I do go shopping for clothes, it's usually at Goodwill, both because if it's a mistake, it's cheap, and I don't feel pressured by the consumerist oppression I experience in the mall (and there's miles to go to find anything I'd wear). I don't get to shop for my husband often because, well, he's a priest, so his priestly clothes are pretty standard and his unpriestly clothes will probably never wear out at the rate he wears them. The kids ... well, let's just say it's exciting when I get the opportunity to actually buy TG anything to wear. That hasn't happened with LC yet, and, by the looks of things, she's set through age 3. (There will probably be more new gifts as well as hand-me-downs by then.)

In the meantime, I've done four loads of laundry including putting them away (the hardest part!), made the bed, and run the dishwasher. The sense of well-being does seem to have extended itself and made the house more restful. (Not entirely, because TG's making noise with his toys, and I'm cranky and hungry, but it's much better than it would be otherwise.)

I guess Don Aslett did make a good point when he mentioned that clutter robs you, because you have to keep looking through the junk to find the thing you want. At least I know where the gift card isn't...

Fasting with my Closet and New (Ecclesiastical) Year's Resolutions

The death of a little girl who was close in age to our daughter has given us quite a bit of sorrow. Her funeral will be tomorrow evening. May Isabella's memory be eternal.

My husband's sermon this morning was about Matthew 17:14-23, where the man comes to Jesus for healing for his son, because the disciples were not able to cast out the demon. Jesus told his disciples that "this kind never comes out except by prayer and fasting." Then my husband defined fasting as "doing without things you want" and said that the purpose of fasting (if I took notes correctly; does anyone else take notes during sermons, wiggly babies permitting?) is "to be holy as God is holy."

This made me sit up and take notice, because one of the things I've learned in this project so far is that it's okay to both want to keep something and to still give it away.

Today before church (the littles slept in quite a bit), I went through and sorted a few things in the Florida room, gaining two empty boxes and two empty boxlids. After church—coffee hour sent us home with cream puffs, mini cinnamon rolls, and half a gallon of milk; I refused the unopened box of crackers, pleading lack of space and was forcefully told that we need to eat more...—we went through my hanging clothes in the closet, sorting into: maternity, would like to wear, and would not like to wear categories. Since I'm post-partum, I have no idea what size I am, but there were lots and lots of clothes that I don't actually like wearing, even when they do fit.

Which leads into the exercise and dieting section. The ecclesiastical new year is coming up on September 1, and I like to take the opportunity to make New Year's Resolutions (even though I'm definitely not good at keeping them). My planned resolutions are memorizing the Psalms and losing weight. I've been slacking off on memorizing psalm verses, so I thought I'd use the GOARCH Planner and gold star stickers to keep me going. My hope is to learn six verses a week (one a day), and review on the seventh day. I've already learned the first psalm (and so has TG, mostly, although he still says "pencil" instead of "counsel"), and am almost halfway through the second... but I've been there for over four months now.

For losing weight, I plan to do three things: weigh myself each morning (I did *not* like this morning's number in terms of its distance from my prepregnancy weight!), follow the hacker's diet fitness ladder, and eat only one dessert a day. The last will probably be exceedingly effective, as doughnuts, cookies, and anything else which falls into the dessert category is an anytime snack. So today I had a peach instead of an entire sleeve of Oreo cookies. But I did forget and eat lots of cream puffs at coffee hour ... but I didn't eat breakfast this morning. (I know! I'm breastfeeding! I'm sorry! I honestly forget most Sundays! Even TG only had one doughnut and didn't even want milk!) And I'll try to drink water more, in general. I should probably also get more sleep.

Aha! That was the thing I was trying to remember: lose weight, learn psalms, and go to bed on time. So that means I need to hurry up and figure out something for dinner which isn't doughnuts (those should probably go into a cupboard where they're safer than right out on the counter) and turn off the alluring computer. Which reminds me I have two more Inspector Lynley books from the library, so that should be enough incentive.

Commendation

I'd just like to publicly announce how awesome my husband is. He gave an unused remote-control car to the pest control guy who just left. I've barely had breakfast, our son is still in his underwear, but something has already left the house!

And now back to our regularly scheduled laundry and shrieking baby...

And then there was pie

Today we celebrated the feast of the Dormition. TG continues to be pretty happy, and LC quieted down and slept during the Liturgy. We came home and celebrated with cookies, ice cream, and pie through the rest of the day. (It's a feast, right?)

My husband made a sandwich for me, and while I was distracted with tasty goodness, we did some more with our bedroom closet. While I started munching, I looked at the clothes in my closet (didn't get to those today) and thought about the St. Basil the Great quotation about how the extra clothes we have are stolen from the poor: "The bread which you hold back belongs to the hungry; the coat, which you guard in your locked storage-chests, belongs to the naked; the footwear mouldering in your closet belongs to those without shoes."

I made much more progress on saying, "I don't need this," than I had the first day we did the closet. My husband confessed he got a little worried when I was clutching (figuratively) to the torn (literally) sheets. They could be useful. They probably are useful. But I. don't. need. them.

I have come to the realization that even if I really like something, even if I really want to keep something, it's still okay to give it away.

We live in Florida, so we got rid of lots of sweaters. (Including one my grandmother knit that matches the hat I wear when it gets cold ... but I don't actually like the sweater itself.) And lots of shoes. (Including the really expensive, dyed-green-to-match-my-prom-dress-which-I-no-longer-have dress shoes.) And a pair of nice snow boots. (Man, those were so heavy!) And a set of sheets. (Oh, but there are lots more sheets to come, I have a feeling.)

We also went through TG's toys, getting rid of about a boxful, sorting through what he might want, what LC might want, what I might want (the little coke truck and the car my father carved are not going anywhere, and both my husband and I love the little green Trabant), and then some nicer things which we can give as gifts (a wooden duck, a neat blocks set, a set of circles that fit together). We also got rid of lovely metal boxes and a stationery box (no stationery in it, but it's a lovely box). I love containers, especially pretty ones. *sigh* So that was hard.

We also got rid of the sewing machine that I've had for a year. It's really heavy. It's never actually been set up at our house. I still hope to make a set of vestments for my husband before he dies. I mean, soon.

Oh, and while we were sorting things, the doorbell rings. It's the mailman: one package from my sister (safe: honey, so that'll get eaten rather quickly) and two packages from my mother (Raffi DVD for TG's birthday next month from the Amazon wishlist (awesome), a cute Russian Orthodox children's book from her trip to Mongolia (awesome), and some clothes (they feel like plastic/sandpaper and five shirts of varying plaids) of which we kept a pair of pants and three shirts.

So all that and some previously sorted stuff (but not all of it) went to Goodwill today: a trunkful. And then there was pie.

One Step Back

Yesterday and today have been busy, and there isn't really anything positive to report today.

Yesterday, I was sent home from the retreat with a bagful of Oreos. (I know! Suffer, suffer. I'm getting rid of them as fast as I can.) Also, "Uncle Tony" brought TG about six or seven boxes of animal crackers and a tin of mints. Previously, he sent two boxes of animal crackers in the mail. The last time Teddy saw him he asked, "Do you have any crackers for me?" Uncle Tony didn't, so he went out right then and bought some.

Today, I was sent home from coffee hour with the remains of a gallon of milk, a plate of fruit, more Oreos (seriously, and we just bought more because I'd run out), and some artoklasia because the person sponsoring it thought our daughter's middle name is Marie. It's not. Also, a parishioner brought another bag of baby clothes.

*sigh*

On the other hand, we may actually be getting interest for a parents-of-young-children play-group (or something) at church, so there may be a place to give toys and clothing in a somewhat reciprocal manner. (Or it might be even more awkward, as you don't want to give back things that people got specifically for your use.)

Tomorrow morning we will celebrate the dormition of our holy mother the Theotokos. I tell my mother she's not allowed to die until she's sorted through the things in her house. (This does not mean sending them to my house, however.) I've been reading more in the current Don Aslett book, and there are some relatively brief sections on verbal, emotional, and mental clutter.

My husband has noted that TG is more pleasant to be around since we removed all of the toys from his room. I don't know whether it's correlation or causation, but today was certainly much more pleasant than usual, and it was an extremely exhausting day, with five hours at church in the morning, a brief break (while the priest-man went to vest the body of a brother priest who had fallen asleep last week), and then back to church for vespers. The rest of the family went to the pool and I stayed home and rested a bit, watching Hoarders later on in the evening.

All the things I haven't done but mean to seem to have this pull on me, like dead weight. I hope that getting rid of the things that I'm not going to do will release me from this feeling. Not sure what the plans are for the attacks in the coming week, but I hope to show significant progress, even if it's only figuring out what our next steps will be.

Retreat

After three years at Holy Trinity (Clearwater), I'd never gone to the annual parish retreat. This year, now that we're no longer there, I was actually in town (albeit an hour south), so we went. Two of the GOYAns were there for TG. LC's nouna (and everyone else!) was there for her.

Got rid of 17 egg cartons. (Our parish doesn't use these for red eggs at Easter, but I saved them anyhow because they must be useful to *somebody*!) And gave about a year's worth of box-tops-for-education to LC's nouna who is a teacher. So we didn't get rid of much stuff, but with as full a day as we had, I'm glad we did make at least a little progress.

And Asa begat Josaphat; and Josaphat begat Joram; and Joram...

We had a lot of 'begats' in our closet. My wife's grandmother's genealogical research had yielded roughly a dozen paper boxes' worth of documents, photos, and assorted other materials*. For the last four years or so, this genealogical data had taken residence in our closets. First in Clearwater, where it was unpacked and stored in filing cabinets. Then it was packed up and brought down to the new house, where it was unpacked and stored in filing cabinets. To the best of my recollection, that was all the interaction that had taken place between our family and the genealogy stuff.

Until yesterday. My wife admitted to herself that, with two small children, there are other people in the family who would have more time to devote to this endeavor, at least for the next, oh, eighteen years, give or take a couple. And so, out came the documents, photos, and assorted other materials, and back in boxes they went. Today, they left the house, on their way to a good home. Να 'ναι ευλογημένο!

*Wifely footnote: My husband said that as he was writing this, he thought of Nebuchadnezzar and the sackbut, psaltery, lyre, harp, and every kind of music. I am glad we are no longer paying homage to these boxes full of papers.

Baby steps

We've packed up most of my grandmother's genealogy research. I haven't done anything with it in the four years I've had it. I've moved it into filing cabinets and back into boxes for the move, then my husband put it into filing cabinets, and we've boxed it up again to go to a cousin who had worked with my grandmother on genealogy before. She says she'll scan it in and maybe send the originals to my sister.

So that's ten or twelve boxes. (Some of the old photographs are really quite large, so we have yet to figure out the packaging for them.)

We've removed all the toys and books from TG's room. (Except for a giant box and sundries in his closet.) These are currently in the Florida room (and, from previous confiscations, in the breakfast room and two ... no, make that three other closets in the house). I hope to go through those toys and books and select the most important ones ... and let the rest go, whether to friends who teach, library sales, Goodwill, or our annual neighborhood garage sale in the fall.

I took pictures of my beautiful antique bedroom suite. (My sister wanted to see pictures, to see whether she wanted to try to talk her husband into receiving it.) I think it's some of the most beautiful furniture ever; I picked it out as a birthday present from my parents when I was a teenager. (Our family tradition: each daughter received a set of bedroom furniture.) But. It doesn't make me happy. The wardrobe is much too large for almost any house on the market these days, and the handle for the main door is slightly broken and I'm afraid to fix it myself. I'm hoping to have a parishioner who has a "woodworks" business look at it and suggest options. I like the bed and nightstand (with the funny little cabinet for a chamberpot!), but I think it should all be kept together. I am hoping we will find a place for it where it will be taken care of and enjoyed. In any case, it must go.

Out of our house today: one pair of shoes and two shirts, as TG's hand-me-downs.

I am exhausted and emotional. I feel guilty that I haven't done anything with the genealogy materials and guilty that they're out of order and uncared-for. I feel like I've failed. And then there's the rest of the Stuff which is just everywhere. Well, except TG's room.

I'm reading (slowly) Don Aslett's For Packrats Only and was struck by the suggestion of "At least thin that collection of all the birthday cards you ever got." The correspondence file... well, okay, I do actually have all of the birthday, Christmas, etc., cards and letters I ever got. I probably don't need to keep correspondence of people I don't know and/or don't remember.

Purpose

For a while now, I've been contemplating that command of Jesus, "Go, sell all you have and give to the poor, and come, follow Me."

And then there were lots of articles about how children who grew up with lots of toys are physically, emotionally, and spiritually confused and handicapped by their abundance.

And I grew up with lots of stuff. Not necessarily expensive stuff, but lots of it. In telling a certain man about my father's hoarding, he looked at me and said, "You're a hoarder, too." And I had to admit that he was right. I am. I keep things which I do not find beautiful nor useful.

And then there's the Montessori ideal of a "prepared environment."

I have not kept all the commandments, like the rich young man in the story in the synoptic Gospels, but I am coming to admit to myself that if I really want to know Christ, there's a mountain of Stuff and Self in the way.

I hope this will be a blog about getting rid of at least part of that mountain.