Skip to main content

Another Mystery

While spring cleaning the kitchen cabinets I needed a utensil drawer organizer that I'd lent to Kat for her apartment, and went out to search through the bins of her stuff to find it. In the process I found these two bins marked as my stuff that have probably been sitting in the garage for a couple of years now. I can't remember what I put in either of them (thank you, old age.) Let's look through one of them today, shall we?

I save everything people give me -- I find it almost impossible to toss or donate something that was a gift, especially books -- as well as cards, letters, programs, report cards, etc. That constituted about 95% of this bin, and a lot of it was from my mom (hence the really hideous yellow Clark's sign.)

Lots of miscellaneous junk, too. There was a manuscript copy of a novel I wrote way back in the eighties, of which an electronic copy does not exist, so I should probably keep that. The plastic fan was one my grandmother gave me, if I remember right. She had a thing for fans.

I still have every letter and card readers sent me as fan mail. How can I throw that away? Sigh.

One photo turned up that made me smile. This is me being made an NCO (Sergeant) in the Air Force, way back in 1980. :) Stop by tomorrow to see what's in bin #2.

Labels:

Comments

Maria Zannini said…
Look how baby-faced you were! So pretty too! When did you leave the Service?

I'm not begrudging your baby face. I look at some old pictures of mine when I got married and now I know why our parents thought we were too young to move away. We looked like babies.
February 8, 2023 at 6:04 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Holiday Prep

For Thanksgiving this year we've invited some guests from Oliver's mom's side of the family, so I have to start prepping now to get the house in shape for the big day. The first major thing is having the carpets cleaned, which we've scheduled for next week. This weekend I'll be cleaning out four rooms to get them ready for that. I started with my front dining room, which I use as my sewing room. It was kind of a mess already, so it felt good to get everything cleared out. We'll be having ten people at dinner plus two babies, so this will give me a chance to figure out how to arrange two tables in this space. I think this will be my last time hosting a big Thanksgiving gathering. Mike has started his family with a lovely girl who has a huge, close-knit family of her own, while Katherine will likely be off at grad school out of state for the next several years. I'm also not getting any younger. My guy and I will always celebrate Thanksgiving, but ...
6 comments
Read more

T-minus Day

This was our little Thanksgiving dinner last year, when it was just the three of us. Time keeps whittling down my favorite holiday; this year it will be just me and my guy, and we likely won't even have a turkey.* That will be a first in 35 years. I feel about Thanksgiving the way other people do about Christmas, and while it's a lot of work it's my favorite holiday. Of all the Thanksgivings I've had in the past sixty years, only three were truly terrible: one when I was a kid that I don't talk about (#1 most miserable); the time I roasted two turkeys together and hosted fifteen people whom I cooked for and served with zero help (the largest and #2 most miserable); and the one I spent in basic training (the #3 most miserable.) I have no pictures of any of those, thank heavens. In addition to doing all the cooking I'm the one who takes all the pictures, washes all the dishes and puts away all the leftovers. I suppose no one else cares because to them it...
5 comments
Read more

Fell Off the Wagon

I did cut up that plastic dollar tote to make into something stronger, but got caught up with work and set it aside. Then last night some hand-dyed silk and pretty threads called my name, and, well . . . Felt SO good to do some handwork, except my neck began hurting about an hour into it. I tried changing the way I sit and work, but it's pretty obvious that the doc is right.
7 comments
Read more