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Thursday, October 06, 2005

A Brand New Look - at least to me

I ache all over but I think it was worth it. Tim bought a new mini-entertainment center for his room (he shares a house with a couple of other guys) and gave me his enormous old one. He and I spent all afternoon and into the evening shoving furniture. It holds the t.v and all the stuff that goes with it, my stereo components and record player (yes I still have a record player), speakers on top and still enough space to fill it up with the hokey little knickknacks the girls are always bringing me. My computer desk and bookcase sit right along beside. I think I said somewhere that we set our room up as a bed-sitter. It keeps me sane. I love my girls but, to probably misquote The Prophet, "let there be spaces in your togetherness".

We went through all my vinyl and got rid of the records I have replaced with cd's or Rhapsody and some others that people had given me because they knew I could play them. Could play doesn't always mean will play. I kept quite a few; albums that to me are irreplaceable or so sentimental I just couldn't bear to lose them. Tim's even worse. He remembers growing up listening to music with me and many of the covers brought back memories. I thought he might cry but he soldiered on.

Then I started on the videos. I've taped many opera performances over the years. Much of it I will never watch a second time (modern to me is Puccini) and some I've replaced with DVD's. I'll keep all my commercial tapes. Many of them my husband bought for me from second hand stores. Didn't know for sure what he was looking for but if it sounded like an opera, he brought it home. He did very well - I like everything he came in with, including the Bolshoi Swan Lake. It looked like opera to him. I taped Christmas music that PBS repeats every year along with many of their other repeating music specials. Five years of the Boston Pops 4th of July? It's a little excessive as is every televised Pavarotti concert. He always sings almost the same program; only the scenery changes.

Somebody (probably Dear Abby) wrote a column some time ago about pack rats leaving their children an ungodly mess to deal with and I wrote very righteously that I had vowed never to burden my kids that way. First and last time I've ever written to an advice columnist. I was practicing for Blogging Baby and didn't know it. When I looked at the pile of discards today, I realized I wasn't living up to my promise very well.

I'm about halfway finished with my side of the room. I still have to go through cassette tapes, cd's, and dvd's (no 8 tracks - can you believe it?) but that'll be easier. I'll give the cassettes and many of the cd's to Elcie. She has old fashioned listening taste and I have some wallpaper music from the 40's and 50's she'll adore. I like a lot of it too but enough is enough.

Then I'll start on Ray's half (the Star Wars side). If you think I'm a pack rat, you haven't met my beloved. I've gotten pretty good at organizing his collections without disposing of any treasures although I've threatened him with a bonfire a few times. We combined households when we married so we have way too much stuff. He's suffering from trauma at the moment. It took him over a year to get used to the kitchen after I switched the silverware drawer from one side of the sink to the other. Poor baby. Tim and I shipped him off to the living room so he wouldn't have to see what was going on. He's not well enough to help; he has lung problems among other things and we were stirring up a lot of dust.

I still have piles of things but they're orderly piles unless the girls start burrowing. I can walk across the floor now and sleep in the bed; both of which had been piled high. The rest is manageable and I've done enough for one day. Kids ate canned ravioli. It won't kill them once in a while and they love the Chef.
I think I just republished my previous entry. Just ignore it please until I figure out how to delete it. I may have to ask my "anonymous" friend. Never mind - it's still there only once.

Insomniac - just received your comment. Sure, probably all our lives are soap operas when we start writing them down. No self respecting producer would buy them - not enough like "real" life.

Good night L. and Gawdessness. Good night insomniac granny. Good night "anonymous" friend. Good night moon. I hope I'm not too tired to sleep.


Uncle Roger said...

I took an english class about a year ago and one of the things the professor said was that good writing is "life, told creatively" (or something like that.) (Meaning that everyone's life is can be an interesting tale, if told well and with liberal creative license.) I agree.

He also said that for all the stuff we go through, we ought to get at least one book out of it. That too, rings true.

Gawdessness said...

Good Morning Ann!
Wanted to tell you that as much work as it is to go through those things and to winnow away the chaff from the grain - I love being a part of it when it is someone else's stuff. Physically there doing it or just hearing about it. There are always treasures of some sort to be found.
Even when it is just memories. Hope you slept well.
By the way, your husband sounds a little like my son. He still hasn't quite grasped the things that were moved around in the kitchen 6 months ago. It's okay though, I generally find what I'm looking for. And hey the Chef was the best treat when I was a kid.

l. said...

My kids don`t like the Chef -- very different taste than what they`re used to. Instead, I have to drive to Japantown and buy foil packets of instant curry, so I can get a break while they enjoy their salty, fatty, MSG-laden dinner treat.
Don`t get me started on stuff -- we just moved, and had to pay an extra $1,000 in moving fees because our shipment was overweight, because I didn`t throw enough junk out. Just having junk is bad enough -- paying big bucks to MOVE it is painful.

Jenorama said...

I love these posts, and I am sooo happy you have this blog!

I should start going through my stuff because it's fall and I love fall and so I wouldn't even mind too much...