Clump #195: Clear two bags from son’s room via Skype.
Our son Skyped with us from Norway today. He and I got through a clump, then I turned the reins over to our younger daughter and youngest niece. My younger daughter was the one who initially sorted his stuff into piles by subject matter. As she took over the process, she said, “It’s so nice to see my clumps realized!”
Clump #192: Save son’s note cards.
Today I have been acutely aware of the passage of time. I found myself thinking how great it would be if the clock could stop when one sleeps. Time out? No such luck. Easter is quickly approaching and my to-do list is lengthening just as quickly.
I’m reposting the photo above of the beautiful band of spring crocuses I became infatuated with last week. This is what it looks like now:
The beautiful flowers and their colors … are … Gone.
All except one lonely daffodil, who seems to be saying, “Hey Guys, where’d you go?”
I had trouble getting in touch with our son for a Skype decision-session. So I made an executive decision to put his note card collection in the “save” pile. I gave him the Vincent Van Gogh ones. I have been increasingly aware of an undercurrent of motherly nagging in the things I have given him. “Clean your water bottle” (yesterday’s post), “Write thank you notes,” “Read this book to better yourself.”
Parenthood is always a matter of treading a fine line. The urge to nurture and make better can easily verge into the dangerous zone of : “who you are right now is not enough.”
Even when all you want to do is give them is the sun, moon and stars.
Clump #191: Sort through son’s remaining eating/drinking-ware from college. Day sixteen of my 30-day, 30-post Bedroom Blast Challenge.
Over halfway through the challenge! Today’s clump is an example of the glacially slow pace of this project. Our industrious younger daughter dove in to start the job, organizing what had previously been stuffed into our overseas son’s bedroom when making space for overnight guests. She even labeled each pile. Now what to do with it all?
The plastic cups and aluminum bottles will go in the recycling bin. I gave him that box of cleaning tablets for metal water bottles … most likely one of my thrillingly practical stocking stuffers. (Oh boy! Just what I’ve always wanted!) I happened to notice that they’re untouched. They and the bowl and knife can either go in the Goodwill pile or hang out here with his other “keep” items.
It’s small, tedious piles like this one that make me feel as though I’m not making any progress. But the fact is, the room is clearing out. Drip … drip … drip.
I drove to Lancaster County to see my mom today, and saw this: So wrong!
The poor, garbed goose of Strasburg was entirely unprepared for the cold snap. She must have donned the floral number when temperatures were in the eighties.
I chose to focus on fabulous forsythia, with flowers and stems like rays of sunshine.
Sometimes my mom will say something so memorable, I have to write it down. Her most frequent question is “What are the kids doing today?” About one daughter, she said, “This is her sunrise time.”
I relayed her comment to our daughter, and she loved it. You don’t need to worry about or force the sunrise. It’s inevitable.
Inevitable as flowers in spring and warmth returning to the earth. And, now, clutter leaving our home.
Clump #190: Recycle shredder, CD’s and cord. Reframe old photo.
Today I took a break from the clumps in our son’s bedroom. With all the paper purging I’ve been doing, we’ve had a casualty. Our shredder went kaput and couldn’t be revived. May I have a moment of silence for this fallen soldier in our battle against clutter? The drops on its top are rain, not tears.
I also deposited some unwanted CDs and a cord. This was a big day for Best Buy. I actually bought something there: a new shredder.
Then I took the picture below to another shop to get a new frame. It’s a lovely old photo of two dear family members. My husband was the photographer many years ago.
The cheap, plastic frame had a cardboard backing that obviously had suffered some water damage. Disgraceful! It was in the box I recently decluttered. Now to take care of it … honor it, or let it go.
I found a relatively inexpensive ready-made frame that did the trick. Wow! How much clearer it is through glass instead of ancient plastic! The “after” picture was difficult to photograph without my reflection looking like a guardian angel hovering over the scene. Trust me, it looks even better in person.
Ah, the man in the photo was our wonderful, late brother-in-law. He was fond of simple jokes that would be groaners if not for his excellent presentation and gravitas. One was: “What did the snail say while riding on the turtle’s back? … Wheeee!” He always pronounced the “h” in Wheee.
Thinking of him while doing errands on a day when it was raining cats and dogs, a similar joke came to mind: “How do you know it’s raining cats and dogs? … When you step in a poodle!”
The sidewalk to the shop was carpeted in confetti-like pink petals from the tree pictured above.
There is something so wonderful about pink in the natural world. It’s the color of cotton candy, tutus … Barbie’s favorite color … it’s an almost frivolous hue …
But it’s also magical. Like a silly joke. It brought delight to hum-drum errands on a dreary day.
Clump #132: Clear out old newspapers.
In the rush, rush, crush of the holidays I didn’t have time for reading the newspaper, something I’m normally addicted to. So going through this pile quickly was difficult. I couldn’t peruse each section the way I normally do, but off they go into the recycling. Here’s the thing: news should be new.
On a brighter note, Hey! This is the one-year anniversary of this here blog!! I’m imagining Clump A Day-type confetti:
A ball drop:
Dancing (don’t these trees look like they are dancing, like the three graces?):
And bubbles!
Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has been supporting me in spirit through all the clumps.
You can not imagine how much it has meant to me!
Clump #129: Assemble and wrap birthday presents.
Around here, present-giving doesn’t end after December 25th. My younger daughter’s birthday follows quickly on the heels of Christmas … our little Christmas angel. When I was pregnant and due around this time, many people told me all sorts of negative anecdotes about having a birthday on or near Christmas, but she has never seemed to suffer. Maybe because we have always celebrated her half-birthday in June with my husband’s side of the family.
This is a milestone year for us. We will no longer have teenagers in our immediate family. Our younger daughter made teenager-hood too enjoyable a stage, so I’m feeling unexpected sadness …
but our holiday house guests are helping to distract me from it. Here is a snippet of conversation from this morning as I cleared newspapers off of the table to set up for breakfast:
Putting the papers on the chair, below, I said, “Another clump is born.” My older daughter responded, “Welcome to the world little clump.” “Like an acorn growing into a mighty oak,” I replied. My older sister added, “Soon you will be blog-worthy!”
It was a good day to get the clumps out of my head by taking a walk with my husband and niece.
I have the annoying habit of needing to stop frequently to take photos, so it was good to have a nice niece along to keep my husband company while I caught up.
I was impressed by the green popping up through a dusting of snow.
Just when I think I won’t find any beauty in the dull-colored world of winter …
it’s as if Mother Nature dares me not to be swept away by lovely sights.
Beauty in the dead of winter, like sweetness in the fury of adolescence.
Clump #112: Confront plastic Bag O’ Junk.
For the life of me, I can’t remember when, why or how this bag of random junk got stashed together. A mystery for the ages. But today I broke it down into things I can do: toss out, give away, or, in at least three cases, return to someone else. I enlisted my husband’s help and we puzzled over the pile together.
A few of the contents: foreign coins. Great timing! I’m going to see my younger daughter tomorrow and she can drop them off at her college’s Travel Abroad Office.
So, a little lesson for myself. When an area is cluttered, it follows that the floor below is filthy.
What’s left? My mother’s and my accordion recipe files. They are not going anywhere … yet. I’m sure the recipes could be winnowed down, but that is a clump for another day.
Clean at last:
We had a big snow storm here today, and the world was transformed. It was a day of cleaning inside and out.
I couldn’t stop taking pictures. These are just a few that seem like I was photographing in black and white.
I’ve been whining a bit (just a bit?!) lately about the loss of color in the landscape. Man oh man, I couldn’t complain today! I had a difficult time doing errands without pulling over every two seconds to capture another shot.
The minimal palette is divine.
At this very moment, the Christmas CD I’m listening to is Kelly Clarkson singing the song White Christmas.
May all your holiday days be clear and white, bright and light, and filled with beautiful sights.
Clump #111: Clear out more of pantry floor.
Sometimes (certainly not always), a dreaded task turns out to be not nearly as bad as expected. This box was a paper tiger, filled with, I’m embarrassed to admit, receipts from last year’s Christmas gifts. I know exactly how long they’ve been stuffed in there.
And underneath were just plastic bags … piece of cake! Just a small paper shredding job.
And then there were two boxes of valentine craft goodies which belong in the basement, to be ready for the holiday in February. My mom started our tradition of hand-made cards.
For years I’ve held a Valentine’s Tea the Sunday before February 14th. Below is a photo taken at last year’s party. It was the first one I held as an empty-nester, without the help of my younger daughter, the baking-phenom. I was feeling very blue getting our traditional chocolate dipped strawberries ready. I hadn’t done a very good job of inviting guests; it’s usually just an impromptu handful of neighbors, and friends of our kids. Up until the doorbell rang, there was a real possibility that no one would come. I had to laugh, thinking it would be a great stanza to the Beatles song, Eleanor Rigby … hosted her Valentine’s Tea, but it wasn’t the same / Nobody came … “All the lonely people …” Ah, just finding the link for that song reminded me that yesterday was the anniversary of the murder of John Lennon, 33 years ago. Now I’m feeling old and sad!
Happily, a few die-hard friends did arrive for tea, strawberries, sweets, and valentine-making. One guest wore a fancy red coat and white gloves!
So, not too much more clearing to go … chipping away the dread, along with the ubiquitous onion skins.
I just hate to end with an ugly photo … here’s one more from last year’s party. What Valentine’s remembrance would be complete with out roses?
Clump #110: Purge two bags from the floor of pantry.
Pictured below, the ugly truth: bags of food we had cleared out for a long ago construction project, and made even uglier when I discovered an unopened plastic bottle of water down there with a very small leak. The price of negligence.
After: getting to this point is making me feel more hopeful that I can, indeed, get through the mess of stuff down there. This is a new and refreshing feeling! As the song goes, “Inch by inch; row by row … Gonna make this garden grow …” But here, I’m shedding a garden of food.
All right, I can’t post another picture of my claustrophobically cluttered closet! Outside, we had our first substantial snow of the year. Occasionally people at our Quaker Meeting mention sensing the Friendly presence of generations past who were (are?) a part of the fabric of the meeting community. Taking the picture below was one of those moments for me.
The bark on the oak tree in front of the meeting house usually looks like elephant skin, but with snow, was changing to zebra skin.
Nothing like the sight of colored lights on freshly fallen snow, at home tonight.
If tiny snowflakes, joined together, can create puffy white mounds, I’ve got to believe someday my small clumps will accumulate into a meaningful improvement in our house and lives … inch by inch.
Clump # 109: Return unwanted decoration; start clearing floor of pantry.
I helped at a local food pantry’s one-day Christmas gift give away for needy people today. The items up for grabs were all donated, second-hand, but in good condition. Except for one table of toys in the back, which were all new, and where I was stationed. Mostly I had to tell people who came by that there was a limit of one item per family, since the new toys had to last the whole day. People came in by appointment, and it wouldn’t be fair to those with late appointments if all the new toys had been taken by those with early times. I was the fairness police, and for the most part it was okay … people were understanding about the rule. But I will be haunted by a woman in a wheelchair who wanted a Barbie for each of her two daughters.
Barbie, Barbie, Barbie. By far the most popular toy on the “New Toy Table.” What is it about this doll? My sisters and I played endlessly with our Barbies, and the allure has not diminished in the least. I am going to keep my eye out for good sales and vow to donate some more new ones next year.
Since the Barbies given away today were very basic, in a simple two-piece bathing suit, I was able to see the difference in the doll’s body shape since my day. Barbie’s body can now support life! And she has a belly button!
I’m avoiding discussing the clump today. I did get a box out to UPS to return a holiday decoration I had purchased but was displeased with. This sounds very snooty, especially given the way I spent my morning.
The clump I’m stumped about is on the darned floor of the pantry I’ve been clearing out. Why in heaven’s name did I put it there? Most likely a quick shove-in right before guests were to arrive. But inside lurks something I’ve been flummoxed about for a long time. Ironically, a doll.
My younger daughter received it from my father-in-law’s second wife. My husband’s mother died when our younger daughter was too young to remember her, so this step-grandmother, who didn’t have a grand daughter, took over lovingly in her place. This was a doll that had belonged to her daughter, who had died without children. I had packed it up to send to the step-grandmother’s surviving son, but he and his wife adamantly insisted that we keep it, since she meant for it to go to our daughter. The only problem is that our daughter never really cared for it. I know she appreciated the gesture … but really didn’t want to keep it. I’m sorry to say, she was no Barbie.
So now I feel badly every time I see her, or think about her. She even has hand-made clothes!
For now I’ll put this clump in the basement, but with heaviness, because one of these days I’ll be de-clumping the basement and will have to revisit it.
I put the question out to anyone who is still reading: What should I do with her? I can’t throw her out. Sell on eBay? Donate to Goodwill? Save for future generations?
I guess I’ll start with the premise that the loving and lovely grandmother would not want her gift to be a burden … stuck, rocklike, weighing us down.
Clump A Day 