Ruby Tuesday - Complete Chaos - September 20, 2011

I got a new India book yesterday and all I want to do is sit and look at it
but, alas, time is running out and there is so much yet left to do.  My
friend, Joanne Olivieri, aka Poetic Shutterbug, gave up her whole day
yesterday to come and help me get started on organizing for my "estate
sale" this weekend which will be from 10A to 4P at 67 Canterbury
Avenue in Daly City, CA, right near Hickey Boulevard and
Skyline ( just in case any of you are in the area! )!  I have so much
packing left and things to move to storage, not to mention that all
the furniture still has to go - and I have a friend coming from
Switzerland tomorrow.  He'll spend a few days here with me when
he isn't at his conference in San Francisco.

Jo and I did manage to get out to lunch with my friend, Silvia ( I
had liver and onions which I love - I know that most folks don't -
I even wrote a poem, "Liver and Onions"! ) and, on the way to take
Jo home, we saw a chance for some nice photos so, of course, we
had to stop!

This book is filled with so many marvels, I could easily never get packed
or moved out of my house!!!

Many years ago, my dear friend, Santos, my very first Indian friend, gave
me this beautiful cookbook.  It is filled with incredible marvels and the
most glorious pictures.  Santos, Lorna, his mother, May, and so many of
their relatives and friends made my one week stay in Mumbai so warm and
welcoming when I went back in 1997.  It is there I will begin this visit to
India.

These are my two Ruby Tuesday posts for today.  Check out the site and
add you own and join in the fun!

I'm also adding some photos of my home so you can see what my life
is like these days!!!

Sadly, almost every room is like this - boxes in every stage of being

packed, upstairs and downstairs.  I've given hundreds of things to Good

Will, before Jo talked me into an estate sale.  Over fifty pairs of my

shoes are out there somewhere in the world and, at least, two hundred

books!  I could never bear to part with a book.

 

 

I'm keeping my ancient Marantz receiver and the speakers though my

turntable died years ago.  I'd like to get another because I love all my

33-1/3 records...but, if someone wants to buy them, I'll woefully say

farewell.  I have over a hundred VHS movies I hope someone will

want.  Some nursing homes and other facilities still have videorecorders

and players.

This was my mother's owl collection - I brought it home with me from

Georgia but none of my boys, of course, wanted it and I'm not an owl

collector.  I decided it should go to someone who loves owls.  I'm having

a hard enough time parting with things I've loved all my life - like that

ferm coffee set!

Every book in here goes - they're all cookbooks ( you should see the

number I'm keeping.  About thirty years ago, I used to do some

catering but I never charged enough to make it worthwhile.  Cookbooks

were also the souverneirs I brought back from my travels.

Everything in here goes as well.  I'm not sure why but I used to collect

teapots, some of them with a hundred dollar price tag...and they were

never used for tea!  Okay, I'm crazy but I know it. 

Years ago, when a son didn't occupy my guest bedroom, it was all done up

in unicorns!  I have dozen of unicorn pictures and knick knacks.  They're

not important to me anymore.

I used to do a lot of needlework, decoupage and various arts and crafts.

I love Christmas, too, and tried to make each one different and special. 

All those books are for sale now and so is the legal book case that I

ruined by painting a cheerful yellow.

I won't say that this whole experience of  going through my life and

marking things I've treasured for sale hasn't been a really painful

experience.  Every thing I touch spawns so many memories and I've

shed more than a few tears.  I've left off the eye makeup and mascara

or I'd really look a fright.  I know my boys don't realize how traumatic

this is for me.  "Junk," they call it - a lifetime of joy it's been for me.

It's a good thing my years are numbered.

I just want to say a very big thank you to Joanne Olivieri, aka Poetic

Shutterbug who is the best of friends and always the greatest help to

me whenever I need her ( which is constantly! ).

I Am Losing My Mind ( Or Did I Ever Have One? ) - December 7, 2010

I Am Losing My Mind ( Or Did I Ever Have One? ) - December 7, 2010

I am supremely frustrated, now that my date to move from this house has been set

( the end of February ).  There is so much to do, so many things to throw away, much

 that I treasure and want to keep but where will I put it?  The items my sons call "junk"

mean something to me but they just do't understand.  I look at some of these - gifts from

friends over the years, strawberry and elephant mementos they've lovingly sent to me that

moved me to tears and do now, as I ponder giving them to Goodwill or assigning them to

the garbage.  I just cannot rid myself of these treasures, even if I must put them away in

storage and bring a few out at a time to comfort me in my new life and new space.

I may be in my van for awhile, or just rent a room somewhere until my financial situation

recovers a bit so that I can find a small apartment.  Then I can surround myself with the

objects that have meant so much to most of my life.

I'm not foolish enough to keep everything.  Some things I've given away and it hasn't
been hard atall.   Some, I liked at the time but they aren't tugging at my heart now.  Off
they go to Goodwill  where I hope someone will enjoy them as I once did.  But this
so-called "junk" that three young men sneer at derisively, stitched lovingly by my dearest
friend of almost 45 years, a tiny elephant purchased for me in Covent Grden by a beloved
forensic nurse colleague ( now a PhD ) when we were on a trip to England, antique
elephants and strawberries sent to me by the wonderful couple I always stay with when
I visit England - these things are as dear to me as gold and I can't let them go.  Once I
finally make my departure from this earth, the boys will just have to get a dumpster and
enjoy tossing it all in with a hearty heave ho.  Sorry, kids, your old mom just isn't ready yet.

To show you how preoccupied all this moving stress is making me, I really goofed this
morning.  I was up early to take Jeremy to the train and had reached in the van to put
the key in the ignition., turning it and the heater on.  Somehow, I must have locked it
and didn't even notice the beep indicating that because the radio was blaring.  I went to
get my travel of coffee to find the van locked, keys inside and, of course we couldn't
locate the second set of keys.  Jeremy was not pleased and took off on the freeway
on his friend's motorcycle.  Thankfully, the CA Automobile Association arrived in
about fifteen minutes and, within one minute, had opened the door.  It's kind of scary
how quickly someone can get into your car.

My apologies because this is so totally disorganized - kind of like me right now.  I've
been sadly remiss about responding to comments.  I'll try to get to them as I so
appreciate hearing from all of you.I'm not a Scrooge but Christmas isn't high on the
agenda this year but I am sending warm and loving thoughts to all of you at this special season.

Laughing All the Way to the Bank - Magpie Tales, Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Laughing All the Way to the Bank - Magpie Tales, Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Sarah climbed the stairs of the small farmhouse to her aunt’s bedroom, feeling
incredibly weary. It had been a long day and she felt so alone and bereft. Her aunt
had been her only living relative. She hadn’t been ill a day in her life and, suddenly,
without warning, her heart stopped beating as she slept in the bedroom where she’d
spent every night for the past sixty years. Sarah had gotten the call while she was
making rounds at St. Mark’s Hospital where she was a second year surgery resident.

She arranged to take a week’s leave and went home to make arrangements. Old Mr.
Jeffries, her aunt’s attorney, told her that the old farmhouse, paid in full, and all her aunt’s possessions had been left to her. There was no money, really, other than the small trust
Sarah’s parents had left when they were killed in a car accident when Sarah was ten.

The following morning, dawned bright and sunny and Sarah began to take an

inventory of the house. She would not sell it. She loved its bright cheeriness and the

lovely furnishings and it had been her home for over eighteen years. Tears stung her

eyes as she thought of her aunt, busy in the kitchen, baking wonderful cakes and

cookies and showering her niece with love. It would be a struggle to keep the farmhouse

and to pay the taxes on it but, once she finished her residency, she would be able to

afford it. She wanted to practice in town where her father had been a physician and

the farm was only a short commute. And it would be a wonderful place to raise children,

she thought, touching the diamond on her finger.

Upstairs in the bedroom, she looked at the old white trunk, wondering what was inside.
It was locked. Where was the key? She looked on the dresser and in the drawers,
without success. The lock was old and quite rusted. The trunk itself was of rough
wood, and sat in a corner of the room. Sarah thought that, perhaps, she could use
a screwdriver to break the lock. It was then that she noticed the red velvet ribbon
hanging on a hook inside her aunt’s closet. Dangling at the end of it was an old rusty
key. After several tries, the key turned the lock. Sarah lifted the creaking lid. It
seemed that the trunk held old dressing gowns. She lifted the top one away, then
gave a gasp, grabbing at the other. There before her, were stacks and stacks
of money, twenty dollar bills, tied in packets of five hundred dollars. When she
was finally finished counting, she realized she was two hundred thousand dollars
richer than she was when she started.

I am participating in Willow's Magpie Tales

Only The Pencils Are Sharp - Magpie 18 - June 15, 2010

Only The Pencils Are Sharp - Magpie 18 - June 15, 2010

She was so exhausted, she could barely make it up the second flight of stairs.  There had been

a second Code Blue on the evening shift and, while her patient had survived, it had been such an emotional evening, with at least fifteen family members in and out of his room all night.  She shouldn't have worked overtime, especially since she had the 7AM morning shift but they really needed the money.  Jeff still hadn't found any kind of work, nor had he completed a screen play or his novel.  Three months ago, she had been supportive of his taking the time to finish his book while she did extra shifts to cover their living expenses.  It seemed like he wasn't putting in any time on this lately, coming home instead long after she had gone to bed.  He told her he was "networking" with other writers, getting leads on possible jobs and collaborating on a t.v. movie with two other men. 

For his birthday, after he told her he hated using a computer for his first draft, she had given Jeff two boxes of number 2 pencils, an electric pencil sharpener, and a ream of lined paper.  She'd never seen him use any of it.  Before she left for work this morning, she'd had an angry confrontation with him about his idleness.  He had stormed off in a rage.

The alarm went off at 5:30AM.  She felt as though she hadn't slept at all as she stepped to the bathroom sink and splashed water on her face.  Jeff was sleeping so soundly, he hadn't even budged.  Quickly, she applied makeup and stepped into her scrubs.  In the kitchen, she poured water into the coffee maker and poured herself a bowl of cereal.  Glancing at her watch, she saw that she still had thirty minutes before she had to get morning report and the hospital was only a ten minute walk from their front door.  She poured milk into her cereal and looked in the dish drain for her favorite coffee mug, one that had belonged to her great grandfather.  He had gotten it when he attended the coronation of George VI of England.  It had belonged to Elaine

since she was ten-years-old when her great grandfather had given it to her.  She had admired the crown on it and he said, "Since you are my little princess, you should have it."

Perplexed, she looked everywhere but could not find it.  Suddenly, her gaze fell on Jeff's desk in the living room.  There, holding all the sharpened pencils, was Gramp's coffee mug, her special treasure from which she had been drinking hot chocolate, then coffee, every day for the last fifteen years.  Without even thinking, she grabbed the colored pencils and threw them, screaming at the top of her lungs, all over the room.  When Jeff ran into the room, she sat clutching the mug to her heart, crumpled in sobs.