Now that Steven and I have finally purchased and moved into a home where we have a good amount of storage, our parents have made it a point to reunite us with all the bins and boxes and bags of our stuff that have been cluttering up their basements and attics since we left the nest.

21 days into my excavation project and suddenly my decluttering job just got a whole lot bigger. My parents arrived for a weekend visit with 8 rubbermaid totes, a couple of boxes, and a couple of bags full of stuff for me to sort through dating back to my early childhood.

Seriously? How is that even fair?

My mom was worried that my husband might have a stroke when he saw how much stuff they were bringing (and they didnt’ even bring all of it), but Steven took it all in stride and just carried it all down to the cellar and stacked it in a corner so I could sift through it when I was ready. I guess since I’ve been so good keeping up with my decluttering so far, Steven is confident that I can keep it going strong even with this minor setback in progress.

I have to say, I’m pretty proud of myself so far. The first free moment I had today, I couldn’t help but to tear into the boxes to see what sort of treasures were in store for me. I was sort of afraid that I would be so overwhelmed with memories and sentimentality that I would be unable to actually get rid of anything in the boxes. But, luckily, good sense prevailed.

Why, just take a look at this fine specimen that ended up in the garbage today…

That, my friends, is a bust sculpted by yours truly for an assignment in art class my senior year in high school. My good friend Andrew was the model (though the sculpture bears little, if any, resemblence). And don’t even ask about the paint. I could lie and tell you that the choice was, in fact, a well-thought out choice meant to be a metaphor for the duality of human nature, but if I remember correctly, I wanted to leave it unpainted, but my art teacher, Mrs. Kosmicki insisted that ito be must have some sort of paint or glaze to be considered a finished project. And this was the best idea I could come up with…

Sad to say, the bust sort of grew on me. Hell, I even hauled him to New York my sophomore year of college. I guess I figured he needed a little culture. I’d say it was during his time in New York that he really came into his own. I even bought him a tiger print cowboy hat at a little shop in Greenwich Village.

Sorry dude, the hat can stick around a little while for Cadence to play with, but you sir, have got to go.

Yet, while my sculpting career ended before it really even began, I have to say I do think I had a knack for throwing pottery on the wheel. Having a pottery wheel in my home someday is still on my wish list (right up there with my own dark room), so it was fun to unpack a few of the very first pieces of pottery that I made in high school. And since I still have a few empty cupboards in the kitchen to display knick knacks, these little beauties are safe–at least until the next round of purging.


  1. Was Andrew half black? RIMSHOT!

    When I left my parents house many years ago I had a few large boxes of this type of stuff. As the years passed, the box got smaller and smaller and it’s now about the size of a shoe box.

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