Who Cares?

Well, I DO...that's the problem. I am a pack rat. The only way to comfort myself when I must rid myself of all my stuff is to believe that someday an archeologist will find it and cherish it even more that I.

My new way of softening the blow is to take a picture of the stuff I'm eliminating. Here is my outfit from the ballet in which I was the waves of the ocean. I was the only little ballerina with BLACK ballet shoes. I was horrified and blamed my step mother. My mortified son is holding the moldy, stinky remains. The fabric was VERY uncomfortable, but shiny enough for a pack rat to save. I'm parting with it too.

I also saved my outfit from when I was part of the sunset in a dance put on by the recreation department in Portland, OR. The dance was in the evening at the rose gardens in Washington Park. My family drove straight to the park from wherever we were vacationing. We almost didn't make it, the dress was way too big, and hung on me. I think I'm beginning to identify the seeds of my control freakness.




In addition to my moldy stinky stuff, I'm giving away my miniature clocks to my daughter. I found these little curio displays at the Dollar Tree. I used my Dremel tool to modify the spaces and painted them black as my daughter requested. I hate cutesy stuff….thankfully, my daughter likes it.