I’m going through my twice yearly spaz feast, also known as, reorganize the house to distract myself from all that is my life. I’m faced with a glut of presents. Plus, on going home improvement projects designed to make our house less of a death trap to objects that are not in power mobility devices, has created a need to purge all that is not nailed down. Everyone is making sacrifices and preparing bags and boxes for delivery to Goodwill. All will be well for a couple of weeks while I enjoy the small addition of space before rearranging everything again to make room for the cumbersome plastic toys Santa vomits all over my house.
However, despite all my efforts to downsize and declutter, and the three moves we’ve made through the years, some items always make the cut. I often give my husband a rough time because we’ve been moving around from closet to basement to storage space several old video game systems, Transformers, original beat up Star Wars action figures and 20-year-old D&D manuals. But that makes me a dirty, dirty pot because I’ve got my own stash of ridiculous keepsakes that never see the light of day. (Yes, there’s even more to my collection than the lamp and the vase.) You see where this is headed right? This weeks quick takes are a stroll down memory lane brought to you by the letters WTH? and the number seven.
1. My grandmother’s antique dressform.
Every spooky attic in every story of merit I’ve ever read has contained a dress form. I inherited this one after my grandmother died eleven years ago. I can’t figure out how to actually use it but man, doesn’t it look artsy and stuff? Email for rental rates if your first year photography student is interested.
2. A set of Raggedy Ann and Andy candles.I can never, ever burn them! And if the kids see them, they’ll want to touch them or worse, play with them, so into the back of my closet they go.
3. A Crazy Eddy t-shirt. His prices, and this entire shirt, is insane. Unfortunately, the fit is circa. 16-year-old Kelly so I don’t don this particular shirt very often unless I’m fishing for muffin top comments.
4. My tap shoes. I know, it’s just a whole ‘nother side of me you didn’t know existed. I never became a Rockette, but I refuse to part with these shoes, if only to amaze my kids with a little soft-shoe every couple years or so.
5. A pair of purple velvet Doc Martin boots, rivaled in awesomeness by my knee-high white Doc Martin wedding boots. Yes, this Catechism thumping traddy once had a wild side; one that blew her entire back to school budget on a pair of Doc Martin boots. And then, because I hate dancing in high heels, I bought an even more expensive pair for my wedding. Every so often I consider selling them on Ebay, and every time I wind up stroking them in tears saying, it’s okay, mommy didn’t mean it. I still love you. And then I wear them, realize I look like a very uncool thirtysomething in Doc Martin’s and we forget one another for a while again.
6. My grandmother’s gaudy costume jewelry. I only wish I had more cocktail parties and black tie affairs to wear this stuff to. Don’t get me wrong, at every church potluck I’m breaking out the bling, but my denim jumper just doesn’t do it justice. But despite the fact that I really can’t pull off wearing it anywhere, I can’t let it go. I keep hoping that because my grandmother was fashionable, that style is genetic and that there is indeed hope for me.
7. My black leather motorcycle jacket. So this one time at band camp…actually, it was on a high school band trip to Toronto I was so convinced that the exchange rate made everything practically free I bought this jacket with all the spending money I had on hand, like, the second day of a week-long trip. And it was hot. The jacket and the weather. I stopped wearing it within a year but I can’t part with it. I tried ebaying it once and when I didn’t get close to the reserve (which was a sentimental $40 Canadian, eh) I decided I’d hold onto it and force one of the kids to be Fonzie for Halloween…eventually.
And this list doesn’t include the bins of old newspapers and 3×5 discs containing every published article I ever wrote during my brief stint as a reporter before launching full time into motherhood or my portfolio of photo school prints, a.k.a. the year of black and white self portraits and deep meaningful stuff I shouldn’t have to explain to you. Is this just me? Please leave a comment detailing frivolous items you hold onto so when I feel the need to either wear or sell my tap shoes, I’ll know I’m not alone in my struggles.
Now that I’ve put everything back in its cryogenically sealed vault, I’m headed over to Jen’s for more Quick Takes. Won’t you join me?
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