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On the up side, I won a door prize.

Picture this: a business networking event where plenty of entrepreneurs are wandering around with wine, cheese, business cards and a nametag. It’s a small city…lots of people already know each other, and lots of people wish to be known.


Of detainees, ClimateGate, and Y2K

We can hardly blame the mainstream media for no longer hosting public debate about whether climate change is actually happening: nobody wants to appear as though they’re supporting foolish conspiracy theories. Dissenters have been relegated to the journalistic ignominy of the internet, which is why the Internet is so juicy.

Isn’t it ironic that the people wearing the end-of-the-world sandwich boards used to be considered the wild-eyed fringe? Now, they’re the reasonable ones and the crazies are the ones saying, “hold on, it’s not that dire. Everything’s going to be okay.”


Who’s the boss?

Dressed warmly for walking to school this morning, Caleb stood at the front door with his dad and sisters.



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The giant fork and spoon live

We did it…we purged our closets. We separated clothing into a blue plastic bag–what someone might want–and a green plastic bag–what nobody would ever want. Technically, we’re performing Steps 3 and 4 simultaneously: The Sort and The Purge.

I’m also going to try a tip from The Organizing Connection for tracking my clothing usage: hang all clothing backwards, they suggest, (with the hook pointing out)  and after wearing, re-hang them with the hook pointing in. Then you can identify the clothing you wear most, and the clothing you haven’t touched within a month or so.

When we moved in five years ago, I noticed the color on the inside of the closets…1975 mint green, with various scuffs, one long wooden rod, and one high, deep shelf.  (I’m not a fan of deep shelves.  They become black holes. Your favorite green argyle sweater gets accidentally pushed to the back and disappears. Who knows what else is back there? A gravity well full of everyone else’s clothing?)

At the time, I couldn’t care less what color the closet was, or bother to custom-fit a new closet system, because we had been waiting for nine desperate weeks to move into our new place as our sale agreement stipulated. Our family of five camped with relatives all summer. By the time moving day arrived, we all just wanted to have our own place.

Today, I felt no different when I yanked everything out to purge, even though I saw it again—the faded mint green color still blaring a noisy tune.

In the Organizing Connection’s General Tips for Closet Organization, I read, “It always gets really messy before it gets neat. You will need to empty the closet completely so you have a clean palette to work from. This is a good time to either give the walls a good washing or it may be time for a fresh coat of paint. You will also want to get out your measuring tape and size up the area for a new closet organization system.”

Both closets measure 41 inches (3 feet five inches) wide by 37 inches (just over 3 feet) deep. Sketching out a design and shopping for an economical closet system will be our weekend chore. Maybe after we do that, I’d be willing to splash on a lick of paint. For right now, the purged contents are going back in.

What about the stuff I got rid of? I need to find another place for:

-          Several sets of king-sized sheets

-          A giant basket filled with loose photographs

-          My big, clunky film camera in its case, a Canon EOS. It’s a great camera, and only about eight years old: too bad it didn’t have time to wear out before it became redundant.

-          A three-drawer plastic container on wheels, filled with acrylic paints and other craft supplies

Folks, I feel like a fraud.  I’m not really organizing, I’m just shifting stuff around. We ditched a few books and threw out some old, ugly clothes, but other than that we’re just putting the other stuff  somewhere else. Perhaps this is why I put off organizing our bedroom for so long. The work here creates work in other places in the house, namely, the basement. I fear almost everything on the list is bound to end up there.

I’m scared of the basement.  Igor lives in the basement.

By the way, as you’ve gathered from the spoiler headline, the fork and spoon didn’t make it out of my husband’s closet. For that to happen, I think I may have to agree to display them somewhere, at least until he gets a man room.

Such is the price of peace.  The Middle East could learn a thing or two from me.

One Response to “The giant fork and spoon live”

  1. [...] Christmas, from our closet to yours The giant fork and spoon live The best laid plans Do files and frilly underwear go together? Just lucky, I guess Who’s [...]

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