Patti's Grace Notes

Walking Solo/Emptying Apu's Closet

Project 1000 - minus 915

Hello out there! I have been absent in case you haven't noticed. This has been the longest I haven't written since I started my blog over two years ago. Well, I've missed you, but in all honesty...I needed the break. I've been a little busy.

So much has happened and there is no way that I'm going to be able to fill you in on everything in this one little post, but I have to start somewhere and it's a bit overwhelming to be so behind. Many of you close to me have been a part of the latest happenings or at least know what my little clan and I have been up to, but I know I have some gaps to fill for many of my loyal readers - all three of you, lol.

The last time I posted it was just before my sister-in-love's visit from Sweden. She is Apu's sister and this was her first trip here since her brother's death - quite emotional for both of us. She came with the new man in her life and I didn't feel so bad about continuing with my plans to hold my garage sale the 2nd weekend in September since she was busy showing him around. I had two garages FULL of stuff and limited time to unload it before starting back to work. In addition a trip to New York loomed ahead the weekend following the start of fall quarter AND a week after that I left for the Kona Ironman on the Big Island where our son competed along with over 1800 other, beyond human, athletes for the 140 mile triathlon. That alone will take three posts....I still haven't recovered from that one.

I must say, though, that my biggest accomplishment of them all was emptying Apu's closet right before the garage sale. I made certain that each of our children had time to enter it and take whatever they wanted. Apu's sister also was able hug his sweaters and choose some keepsakes. Clearing his personal space was the whole reason for planning such an exhausting event in the first place - that and the fact that my daughter-in-love has never taken part in this national past time. We planned it from the early spring and though she claims that her home country of Romania is one BIG yard sale I felt she couldn't truly be embraced by America until she had experienced this phenomenon. As it turned out she found a new part-time job in early September and wasn't very available, so thank God for my buddy Vera who brought her own wares, including a sofa, and worked her butt off with me.

I think I was too exhausted, numb, and cold (first real weekend of fall, rain and moist chill - naturally) to remember to take any snapshots. They would have been too painful of a reminder anyway so it's just as well. I must say that if I'd had just a tad more energy I would have written copious notes of my observations of the characters that entered my garage during those two days. I might not have had a best seller, but I do think that a some psychologists and a few anthropologists may have been interested in my findings - fascinating. My favorite was the man who became insulted when I announced upon his entrance that I had no tools to sell. This was after the first words out of the previous seven men had been, "Are you selling any tools?"

The greatest part of the two days was when a soft spoken gentleman had assembled a pile of some of Apu's favorite pieces of clothing - he wasn't a style setter, but he liked quality. "How much will you charge me for all of this?', he asked. "I'm sending things to my village in Africa." I responded by charging him $10 for anything he wanted and then provided duffle bags to pack it in. I just knew that Apu would be pleased that his items would be appreciated and well used. This garage sale was never about the money. It was about unloading my heavy heart and clearing out to make room in my soul. The $500 that Vera and I made didn't hurt either.

So dear people, I'm b-a-c-k! I'm trying to make sense of this 2nd year of walking solo. It's painful and somehow more real - the edges are sharper, the lines less blurry. There is some comfort in numbness, I guess that's why some people self medicate. It's tempting, but I know that Apu would just not approve - plus somethings are just more appreciated in sharp focus like the bright yellow of a New York cab whizzing by in a downpour, a perfect piece of coconut cheesecake on Arthur Avenue, swimming with a sea turtle in the turquoise water off a Hawaiian beach and the triumphant smile of an Ironman athlete as he crosses the finish line....especially when it's our son. Yes, the hurt, loss, and pain are very real - but so are the joys. I'm ready to embrace them all~ 

Project 1000/Minus 500

WooHoo!! Halfway there!

I actually don't need to get to 1000 until the end of December, but I'm still plowing through stuff and it feels great to hit the 500 mark. Maybe I'll even pass 1000. The sad part is I'm hardly making a dent, but you know the old saying, "A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step."

What a mess, what a mess my garage is in, but I have to store everything somewhere. It shouldn't be for too long and then I'll be able to clear some space in there. Discarding outter clutter also frees up some space in the soul - not to mention the head. One of the most difficult items to part with is the guitar left to me by my best friend, Gloria, who died in an automobile accident when she was only 27. I hung on to it not only because it was a part of her, but because I thought I'd learn to play it. I guess the fact that it has no strings on it and most of the tuning keys are loose might be an indication of how far I got on that one. I did buy a very nice strap for it, kind of hippie-style which could be a hint of when it was purchased. Time to let it go. I'm not losing her, just as with Apu - their 'stuff' is not them. Never was. Maybe some grateful kid will appreciate the deal and do more with it than I ever could. I think I'm ready for ukulele anyway - maybe when we're in Kona for my son's Ironman. Nice souvenier don't you think? I'll save it for my next garage sale. 

 

I'm also getting my sister-in-love's room ready for her arrival from Sweden on Tuesday. This will be a bittersweet coming together as we haven't seen each other since my husband, her brother, died last August. Fortunately we had all been together that June and she and I were so grateful to have had that time. I know this will be painful, but also joyful for both of us.

Well I better get "crack-a-lacking", as my son says. He's doing a bit of that himself since he came in 2nd in his division at the US Paratriathlon Nationals in New York City in August and earned himself a berth to represent the United States in Beijing next week. I spent yesterday running around town tracking down Yuan, Chinese currency. No one will accompany him on this leg of his journey (no pun intended, and don't worry he'll be the first to laugh) since it was so unexpected and each of us is full up to our eyebrows with life, work, travel, visitors....and yes garage sales. As you can see, we are a family on the go. Some of us to Beijing to compete for a world title - others taking walks with Scout in the magnificent Pacific Northwest. Which one is more significant.....let me think on that....

Walking Solo/Love Letters

Project 1000 - Minus 428

I'm still slugging away at clearing out my household and I'm nearing the 500 mark! I'm really under the gun now with company coming, getting ready for a garage sale (why did I think that would be such a good idea?) and I'll be back at work soon. Like many, it's how I work most efficiently except that now I'm into cupboards and closets and they are dangerous territories.

I found a packet of old love letters that I wrote to my, then to-be, husband while he was waiting for me to pack-up my Seattle digs and join him in our new home in Hawaii. It was such an exciting, romantic, and loving time and I relived precious moments in every line of each letter. I was a pathetic mess just half way through. I had to save the rest for today because I couldn't see anymore. I loved him deeply, madly, truly even then and I didn't mince words in letting him know. (I'm now searching for the ones he sent me because I KNOW I didn't throw those out!)

Ours was the stuff movies are made of or maybe just in my own mind - yes I'm sure that's it. I've probably told most of you this before, but never mind. He was a doctor completing his residency in anesthesiology and had daringly defected from a communist country just a few years before - leaving all he loved behind. I was six and a half years younger but had lived and traveled all over europe for over a year and immediately fell for this tall handsome, blue-eyed foreigner with the dreamy accent. He'd just ended a toxic, complicated relationship that included her gun-toting, crazy ex-husband and I had been dating a womanizing cardiac surgeon from Bombay, India (I warned you, I'm not making this up). We were both relationship weary.

I was a renal-dialysis nurse and my clinic was close to his hospital. Every Friday afternoon the surrounding medical professionals met in the lounge of a historic boutique hotel for 'Happy Hour'. As I've explained before, I walked in with a colleague that I had been casually dating and bumped into one of my dearest friends who was sitting at the table with a group of hospital people that included my one and only. All it took for me was his first sentence. It oozed of old world culture, history & mystery, and something very familiar - like I'd heard him whisper to me all of my life. I know, I know...hokey, but it's the truth. He for me?.....not so much. 

As he later explained, it wasn't that he dismissed me immediately, but I had walked in with someone and his dance card was also quite full. He may have had no long-term aspirations, but he was, in fact, a wild and crazy guy from Czechoslovakia. (refer to SNL) As you may already know, well-intentioned friends offered to "fix" us up, but I was leary of them meddling and figured I could screw this up all by myself. I almost missed my moment, but then I bumped into him (almost literally) in an elevator in the concert hall at a Carlos Montoya performance - he was with a redhead. I wrote "the" letter the next day. I addressed it to him c/o the name of his apartment building "somewhere on the 4th floor (I think)" is exactly how I wrote it. After dealing my hand I told him that if he wasn't interested not to worry about my pride because I'd just assume the letter never found him. I did not give him my phone number, only my place of work - couldn't make it too easy. He called me the next night. I almost peed my pants! Months later he confessed that he called me because his younger brother, who was visiting from Europe when my letter arrived, told him to either call me or HE would! I discovered THAT letter last night! The one that started it all, the three little pages that changed our lives - that created a family. How amazing is that?

Also in the stack was the note that was attached to the Christmas tree that I left for him in his apartment foyer one month later. It read:

Dear Dr.

Please take me - I'm yours. 
Keep me warm-
Give me H20 for my thirst
Love me & sing to me & look at me,
But don't dress me 
Until that lady that got me for you
can come and help- Promise.

Your ever loving & faithful,
Christmas Tree 

ps - You must only think lovely thoughts when you are near me!

He told me that was when he knew he loved me. I think it was pretty cheesy, but whatever - it worked! 

Well, it was quite a whirlwind. In February he completed his residency and asked me to marry him. By March he'd accepted his first position in Honolulu and we packed him up and moved him there. I returned to Seattle to quit my job, pack my humble abode and ship all we owned including my car to Hawaii. I wrote to him every day for a month and during that time we learned a lot about each other. They are heartfelt, beautiful letters written by a young woman in love and I cherish each one. I feel sorry for many young couples of today who communicate only by texting and emails that will be lost. I cried, yes - buckets, but I'm so happy to have them, to remember in vivid detail that magical time. I'll get through this, I know I will. Sometimes lately I feel like I'm living too much in the past, but mostly because I'm so scared I'll lose those memories. I think I'll be able to move forward to a place that allows me to visit those precious times without needing to dwell there, but not yet...no, not for a while. 

Professionals, friends, family, and written resources all have advice, thoughts and opinions of how long this process will take. I gave myself a year of "Widow Walks" but I only changed the title of my posts....not my state of mind. It's not that simple. I've had some really good days lately - happy, meeting friends and keeping busy, but I'm so much more into my head than I've been all year. Last August I was in such a state of shock - I really see that now. I suspected all along, I mean it's normal and to be expected, but while I wouldn't want to remain in that perpetual frame of mind it had it's comforts. People gave me a wide berth and expected me to be emotional, quiet, withdrawn, and moody. I could forget appointments, be late, have mental lapses and all other sorts of social maladies, but while I feel just as out of it I now am expected to behave like a responsible adult....and all I am is the one left behind who hasn't quite figured out what the girl who so purposefully wrote those loving letters all those years ago is supposed to do now.

 

Walking Solo/Project 1000 Minus - 342

It seemed appropriate to apply the double heading for this post since I was on my own at our cabin for a couple of days this week, clearing out some of Apu's things. The special items will remain, of course, but I felt ready to pack up some things that maybe others can use. I was getting rid of some of my stuff too, so it was a beginning of de-cluttering there as well as home. The lake lapping below my bedroom window was a worthy distraction.

I stayed longer by myself than I have in the past and by day two the quiet and nostalgia was getting to me. Listening to our old music and going through drawers and cupboards started the tears flowing - which is probably a good thing. I wonder just how much a person can cry - I mean really, can you become dehydrated from losing tears? I drank a couple of gallons of water just in case.

My pal, Scout, was there to help me....and test me. She is such a puppy! Lord, how I've forgotten how much work and patience they require. That and the fact that I'm not getting any younger. She is a terrier (my first) and I'm learning her quirky personality pretty quickly. I'm having to lay down the law pretty damn quick or I'll lose all control completely. I heard they like to dig and found her attempting to dig her way through our ancient sofa in an effort to get the cushion button. I yelled "NO DIG!" which didn't faze her much so I screamed, "STOP" at the top of my lungs and she jumped, looked up at me as if to say, " why didn't you say so?" and then proceeded to bark (as in talk back). I didn't yield and she finally rushed me to lick my face - "I didn't mean it". I think I might need professional help....in more ways than one.

                                                                    Just foolin'

I am making some progress, but have a very big way to go before my garage sale in September. This is so good for me to have this project but the ups and downs are draining me. I'm not sure what it is - melancholy or just the whole last year ganging up on me. I returned home feeling listless and overwhelmed. I have company coming from Europe in less than two weeks, back to work soon after that, a house that is still full of too much stuff and I have so much to do yet I find it difficult to get motivated. I'm just trying to walk myself through each day and have at least a few goals accomplished. I'll be fine - I'll get it done (or I won't). I work best under pressure anyway - I wonder why that is? My husband was always Mr. solid and steady, plodding himself through any task, but he was always amazed what I could accomplish in half the time - once I got warmed up.

I felt frustrated and angry today. I'm not an angry person. It takes a lot to get my Italian blood to boil, but it was different today. I just sort of smoldered - don't know why. Poor Scout....I kept her in her kennel for long stretches since I didn't want to take my short fuse out on her. Finally I remembered what brought me peace all those months ago when I was sorting out emotions of another kind. I snapped on her little purple leash and we walked - we both felt better for it. The good news is I'm eating better, cooking for myself more, and trying to get to bed earlier, which reminds me - it's past my bedtime...sigh. Tomorrow's another day - God willing.

 

Project 1000/Minus 272

Our youngest was home a couple of weeks ago for a brief visit. She has had quite a year - haven't we all? She calculated the average numbers of hours per week that she worked during her internship as an equine veterinarian and came up with 90! She hasn't had much time for herself let alone anyone else. I searched for her in the house and found her in a heap in her father's closet - sobbing. It was difficult to witness, but necessary - healthy.

My heart is so very heavy. Just when I think the load is lightening that hungry pit settles in my stomach that just can't be filled. I know we are supposed to be comforted with the memories of our loved ones....carrying them forever in our hearts, but I'm sorry.....that just doesn't cut it! Not even close.

When my Dr daughter loaded up the trusty ol' jeep with memories and a few momentos for our trip south, she added a couple other items - Mikey and Rufus (so I guess minus 274). How could I let them go you might ask? They were hers to take...well Mikey for sure and now she needs them more than I do. Besides, Apu sent me Scout. I found her on our wedding anniversary just when I thought my heart would break for sure. In case I doubted he also arranged for Erik Satie's piano piece, Gnossienne No. 1, to be playing over head. When did they start piping classical music into dog shelters? This was a beloved piece of music and was played live at Apu's memorial. I am not making this up or imagining it (our youngest was with me). I turned and there she was waiting just for me, my little Scout Satie (pronounce Sa-tee). I chose the name, Scout, from the little girl in my favorite book, "To Kill A Mockingbird".

I'm circling his closet, but I'm not ready yet. I will have the garage sale next month, although I'm not very motivated. My whole body is feeling the date marking one year looming - one week. I just can't believe it. I think Scout and I need a walk.....

 

 

Project 1000/Minus 189

Ok, I know, I have a way to go for my 1000 item toss. Yikes!! But I promise - I am on a mission.

Rufus thought these were relatives~

One thing that has helped me clear out some items lately is the joy of giving things to people that I know and think they can use (God help them). I'm in a pretty good position to do this having been recently widowed - no one says no.

Seriously though, the thought of going through my husband's things is really upsetting, yet I gave away several pairs of his shoes because they fit my brother. Apu wasn't much of a trend setter, but he loved quality and with all due respect, he was a bit of a footwear whore. I actually think that in this case my brother was grateful; he got some pretty nice shoes. It's not like I was giving away underwear.

Then there is the case of my daughter-in-love's mother. J is visiting and comes from a part of the world where they actually still wear fur. It's not just a fashion statement in Romania....it's really freezing there in the winter. I happen to like fur (Let the red paint flinging begin!). I didn't say I wear it or that I agree with the slaughter of innocent animals so that I can feel luxurious. But I have been known to holler at a group of PETA activist, protesting fur, on a street corner, "I like your leather boots!" This was done from inside a speeding automobile, I might add. (Never said I was brave.)

I'd inherited a couple of coats from my mom, but they were just occupying closet space. The look on J's face when I asked if she could use them (or maybe sell them) was priceless. You'd have thought I'd just smuggled them across the border and pulled them from their hiding place in the false bottom of my steamer trunk. This transaction also involved tossing in a large suitcase to accommodate a few other items she's collected along the way. Shoot, I may just forget my garage sale and send a crate to eastern Europe. One gal's surplus is someone else's treasure. I'm keeping the mink my husband gave me years ago when the world was heartless....I don't care - I look good in red.

 

Project 1000/Minus 166

"There is something about a closet that makes a skeleton terribly restless" -Wilson Mizner

 

Into The Closet!

Well, all I can say is that I'm in quite a state at the moment. So much so that I can't even bring myself to write my "Widow Walks" post. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but I've been reading that there is something about the 7-8th month mark in the missing department - that....and my birthday. It just sucks! (Wish I could be more eloquent, but it is what it is.)

I've decided to focus on busy things - things that lift me up like cleaning out my closets. To be honest it really wasn't me doing the cleaning. I convinced my youngest, who was home for a brief visit, to spend part of her precious time home getting rid of some of her stored things. I wish I had thought of taking some photos of her trying on old prom dresses, but I'm just not that quick thinking lately. She did a pretty good job - I'm proud of her. Now I just have to work on the other two clearing out their items. What is it about adult children storing stuff at mom and dad's house?

I haven't counted up all of her items yet since they haven't been officially crated up, but I'm deciding what to do with them until my garage sale. It doesn't make sense to fold them up and cram them in a box when they'll hold up so much better hanging, but I SO want to add them to my count. I'll work it out probably by filling one of my clean closets with the counted items til sale time. I think I'm getting obsessed by my own "count" rules. Just trying to be honest here. FYI - I'm incorruptible with my golf swings too - just sayin'.  

I think I'd better step things up a bit; I'm falling behind in my progress. I did get my taxes done!

 

Project 1000/Minus 136

A BOATLOAD~

It may not seem like it but I'm still pluggin' away on eliminating household clutter. Little by little, inch by inch, corner by corner. Monday marked 7 months since the death of my much loved, desperately missed husband and, to be honest, I've been in a bit of a slump. I try very hard to find ways to motivate myself. One thing I've learned is to be aware when my energy is high and then take full advantage of it. The only problem is when it strikes at midnight. It's only difficult when I need to function the next day. Oh well - baby steps.

Many years ago (I don't even remember when) we bought this fiberglass rowboat with teak trim. We always loved boats (especially *Apu) and usually had one larger one and several smaller versions, canoes, kayaks etc. As his health declined we finally parted with our last power boat a couple of years ago, but we gave up on our true love, sailboats, quite awhile ago. 

We were on our way to our dear friends, the Radwick's, cabin northwest of us on Camano Island. One of the tremendous perks of living in the Pacific Northwest is that you are never far from a body of water with limitless options for boating adventures. We'd had many sailing trips and were both fairly skilled at manning the helm, trimming the sheets, and battening down the hatches.

We hadn't owned this particular sloop for very long, but we loved her - she was a beauty. My husband had already survived three open heart surgeries and we'd often questioned if we could still handle the rigors of sailing in rough water, but his delight was infectious. On this day we'd planned to meet up along the way with Betsy and her husband in their power boat. We knew it was blustery and the seas seemed quite choppy, but this isn't uncommon on the Puget Sound. The plan was to leave Edmonds marina past our friend's home, which is on the waterfront, and call them as we sailed by. Their boat was so much faster that by the time they boarded and set out, we'd have quite a head start and meet up along the way. We called and Betsy's husband answered with the news they were going to drive since there was a gale warning in effect and they were having a little trouble with their dingy. Trouble!? We didn't even HAVE a dingy!!

It was then that we noticed we were the only small boat on the water. Down went the sails, but turn back - oh, no...not us. The next few hours were among the most harrowing I can remember. Trying to get out of the way of a local ferry was the most fun. My knuckles were permanently white! Later, I physically shuttered at the thought of something happening to him out there. This classic old wooden vessel had no rails and I could never have gotten him back into the boat if he'd fallen overboard. We began to accept the truth - our sailing days were over.

The photo of the little boat above is in fact the dingy we should have been pulling that day, but my husband was in the middle of refurbishing it. He lovingly stripped it, refinished all of the wood, repaired the fiberglass (no small endeavor) and gave it the ubber nautical touch of rope edging. A few seasons of wear and tear later he vowed to sell it - too much work, and it was so heavy to load and unload. Then he died. I'll never sell it now - too many memories, but I did find a purpose....

Until I finish my garage sale and load it back on to the trailer (with help of course) for the trip to the lake it will contain the objects of my purge. In a way it's like Apu helping me, urging me along and then in his delightful accent saying, " And when you're finished, sheet gotdammit" you can scrape, varnish, and refinish the damn thing!" 

Yes, sweetheart....I'd love to. 

*apu is our family name for my husband (it's a Slovak thing for dad {really Hungarian, but it's a long story}). I really need to make a FAQ sheet for new readers. I'll put it on my list.

Widow Walk 6 Months 8 Days/Project 1000 - Minus 115

Yes, I know I've merged two categories - sometimes that's bound to happen. As I tell my nursing students "The human body is a complex collaboration of many different systems. They all interact and influence one another". Yesterday I was feeling a bit rocky and rather than pull the covers up and over (I'd already tried that) I decided to clean and de-clutter. Now having said that, please be informed that I wasn't all that industrious, but what I did accomplish felt good. Then I went to the movies with my kids.

I was weepy yesterday - it happens. Seems that it didn't take much to set me off. My bed is a good example. I decided to change my sheets and just as I was about to strip the bed I paused and noted that I still sleep only on my half - actually, less than half. I generally don't move around a lot as I slumber and most often the other side of the bed isn't even disturbed. I'm grateful to be a "good" sleeper in that I fall to sleep easily and rarely wake till morning.

For 35 of our nearly 38 years together, my husband and I slept on a DOUBLE bed (full size) by choice - we loved it. We slept in what is described as the "spoon" position - you know, on our sides facing, the same direction, all snuggled together. Like a carefully programmed machine, when one or the other turned in the night the other person automatically made the shift. It was a sort of dance and filled me with great amusement. I would never have been interested in possessing a sex tape, but I would love to have one of our nocturnal ballet. Only once can I remember, while in a deep sleep, he not only didn't turn when I did, but flat-out refused when I asked him to roll over. I belly laughed so hard it woke him up.  

I hope that all of this isn't "too much information". In the last couple of years of his illness Apu was so fragile and he bruised very easily. We finally had to get a queen-size bed to protect him from my bony elbows and knees. I didn't want to be reported for spousal abuse. Now it's just me in that big old bed and at the six month mark I think I'm going to have to get my kids to come and help me rotate the mattress so I wear it out evenly. The sight of his undisturbed side of the bed with only my little pile of reading material sitting there just set me off, but if it wasn't that - it would be something else.

A friend recently described grief like the waves on the ocean. They come fast and furious in the first days and months and crash over our heads with unrelenting furor. Very gradually they pace themselves out - a bit slower, a bit less violent, but they still keep coming. There are days now that, while far from a calm sea, the rhythm is more of big swells with many cresting and now and then a rogue wave will build and break, followed by a few more of lesser intensity. When that huge one hits, even if I've had warning of it building, it knocks me flat, wipes my feet out from under me and any sense of temporary stability is lost. I can feel myself gasp for air as I tumble and churn trying to right myself and struggle for a foot hold. Just when I think I won't make it I break the surface and feel my lungs fill once again - a bit shaken, but relieved I rode out another one. 

I've been tired and fighting a mild cold (sneezing, weepy eyes, headache) so an extra nap here and there seems more than a luxury; it's a necessity. As soon as possible I try to get back to a project or go out somewhere to avoid sinking too low in that pit of self pity. The cold, dark winter days are an accomplice to my hibernating tendency and I so look forward to spring to bring me out from within my wounded soul. I am trying to use this time in a healthy contemplative manner and have really enjoyed my quiet Bible readings. I find it very comforting even though it's not always peaceful. I love the history of it and in it, and am motivated to include a study guide to consult. If I hadn't been so impatient after my recent retreat (retreat info), I would have done better research and found a more inclusive collection. It's ok though, I love the feel and texture of the pages in my edition and it's just the right size to cart around. I imagine students of the Bible have all sorts of resources to cross reference. I'll just have to be careful to unload some old books before I start stocking my current library.

Walking through my garage as become an adventure (I know, I need to get out more) and I just can't believe all of the junk we've collected over the years. My son and I have plans to organize my husband's tools and equipment, but I can see that I have a lot to do before we can even begin that. I've started discarding one or two things every time I head to the car or come home. It's disturbingly easy so far. Just a reminder - over a hundred items of clutter have been dealt with so far and I haven't even really attacked a closet or a drawer. Maybe there's a method to this grief journey and the madness of de-junking my life at the same time? Perhaps just as the giant waves wash over and cleanse my heart, this '1000 project' clears out the "stuff" that burdens my outer sanctuary. I have a feeling that the interweaving of the two will meet most abruptly, yet with necessity in my husband's closet - at the proper time. I think for that one I'll need an oxygen tank and flippers....

 

Project 1000/Minus 96

"Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful." -William Morris

Ok now, this one really has me stumped! As you can see this little item pictured here is neither useful nor beautiful, but I'm not ready to let it go just yet. It means something to me...makes me happy just to look at it. Last May I joined my gal pals in Palms Springs for my very first time. They know the sweet spot that I have for Palm trees (synonymous for v-a-c-a-t-i-o-n) and had this silly little plaque waiting for me by my bed (along with some florescent pink sunglasses and plastic beads, but I managed to let those go - see there's hope). 

I am still in the "see it and cringe" stage of my de-cluttering and I think once I get down to a certain level I'll be a bit more discriminating - doncha think? I have yet to take on a REAL de-clutter project like a closet or a cupboard, but I can hardly wait. Oh wait, I take that back. While chatting on the phone with my sister Carla (which can take a while) I peaked under the sink cupboard in the upstairs bathroom and nearly passed through in to Narnia. It was a quick visit, but gave me a glimpse of what is to come. ....and some people go to Disneyland.....