The things I carry.

Now that the kids have skipped town, I keep trying to clean their leavings out of the house.
Lighten the load.
Convert to cash.
The things I've tried:
-- Garage sale-one day only. Come and get it! Evidence of success pictured in yonder box.



--Hauled carloads to the Salvation Army.
--Listed stuff on Craigs list. $120 for used Wedding Centerpieces. $100 for a left-handed acoustic guitar. $60 for a big-ass backpack. $20 for a hard-shell golf case. Joy. Cash is king baby!
--Put odds and ends on the curb with a FREE sign attached.
And yet, the stuff piles up. Seriously, the detrius is starting to get me down. I just can't get it organized.
Look at it. An entire cold storage room. Packed. To the ceiling. Hundreds of dollars worth of plastic storage units. All full.



-Three boxes labeled, "Nora winter". Well, it's winter. Her clothes are here. She's in New York. What, dare I ask, is she wearing?
- 2 boxes of high school notebooks and photos.
- 2 shoe boxes full of Nora-Erin-Cara notes.
- Austin's juggling pins and flaming torches (not lit).
- 38 framed photos, prints and paintings.
- Paddy's old turntable and stereo components
- old slide projector
- old school maps (the pull down kind). Cause you never know when you'll need to map out the Goths and Visgoths migration.
- 3 old wooden doors
- 1 guitar amp (big)


- Wrought iron curtain rod
- A wax hand (don't ask)
- Uncle Billy's vintage baseball shirts
- Paddy's messenger bag w/ his left-wing patches
- 3 boxes labeled: "Mom's stuff to go through and toss."
- 1 box labeled: correspondence, 1974 and earlier.



- Lawnmower, shovels, rakes
- Probably some cat pooh and dead bats
- laundry basket full of remote control car parts
- a 6-shelf unit full of dishes, pans, glassware, vases



-7 table cloths
- old sewing machine
- vintage ironing board. Missing rubber foot stoppers.
- 2 American flags.
- Old steamer trunk full of Austin's memorabilia (it's been here for 8 years. It's the early stage of his life).
- one box labeled, "Nora's life."
- VHS tapes including the Bruce Lee Collection
- 12 Shriner Fezzes
- box labeled "light system from Austin's apartment" (Lori gently refused to take it to Philly)
- at least 12 boxes of books including a United States Armed Forces Institute publication entitled, "the Mechanics of English," 1944.
- 4 chairs and a desk
- 3 jars of buttons and a tin full of rick rack
- 2 turtle doves
- and a partridge in a pear tree.



That's just what I see without opening boxes and rummaging through their stuff. I'm tired just thinking about it. I feel another encounter with Craig's List coming on.

Reading: The Mechanics of English (I couldn't resist it)
Listening to: Pandora. Nora was right. I'm hooked.
Eating: Who's eating between meals? It's Ash Wednesday!

The Iceman cometh.

Look at that face! How could you not love a face like that. Serene, a little mysterious and a sweet smile made of a little hank of yellow rope. The vacant expression indicates that he's the kind of guy who won't be giving you any trash talk. But, most important, this man is cold. Ice cold. The kind of man you wanna throw your arms around when the heat of middle-age starts to flash. When you start to glow, from the inside out, this is the man you need next to you.




Lest the children worry while their father is away, Frosty is just a temporary escort. Tall, pale and, well, not handsome, but adequately chilled. Plus, he's sporting a hat. Don't you just love a man who's not afraid to wear a top hat. He's well read, like other men you love: look! He's close to the Wall Street Journal and New York Times. He's secure enough in his masculinity that he can wear a flowered boa and a touch of pink tulle as he heads into Ace Hardware. Yes, you can use him. Use him up. The nuclear heat that you're generating at random moments may render him a puddle of water by the end of the night, but he looks like he's got untapped reserves. Just look at the size of him. 8 feet of solid ice shavings!



Besides, he bears an uncanny resemblance to your missing Husband who is warming his old bones in the desert heat of Southern California. Heat, you don't need right now. Bask in the icy glow of SnowMan and welcome back the Man in your Life come springtime.

Listening to: "Snowed in" Albert Collins from the Frostbite Album
Enjoying: Lemon-Lime Sorbet

Take another little piece of my heart.

So, where are they? The joy of my heart? They seem to be missing. Or maybe I'm missing them. After a mother's love there is no love. I don't know who said that but it may be true. No matter how many tattoos you have. No matter how many times you wake her up on Saturday morning @ 7 am with a phone call. No matter how many times you don't call her. Even if you spill your nail polish on the new front steps (It's BROWN, it will blend in!) Even if you forget to flush the toilet. Or leave your life (in boxes) in the basement. Your mother always loves you. She might be mad as hell, but she still loves you.

Happy Valentine's day to my four lovely offspring.

And the Survey Says!

Good question. So, what is it? Passion or $$.
Filthy lucre.
Ducats.
Jingle Jangle.
The Almighty Dollar.
What's in your wallet?
It's not an either or question.
The answer today is, I'm carring the currency of compromise. I'm not passionate about what I'm doing. But I am passionate at what I'm doing.
Splitting hairs. Fine line and all that. But that's my final answer.