Excess

So I'm sorting through my stuff, getting ready for our trip - deciding what to leave, what to take, and what to stick in the safe deposit box - when suddenly, overwhelmed, I saw it all as if through someone else's eyes, as if I were an alien (or a normal person) seeing it for the first time. And all I could think was ... where did this all come from?

I can't remember buying half of it, and that's not good. A true collector has stories. A true collector doesn't keep things she's outgrown or doesn't really like any more. A true collector doesn't keep everything just because. You know who does that? A hoarder.

Have you seen that show on A&E? (Clean House scared me. This one gave me nightmares.) Soon after I began blogging here (old life) I started the Grande Divestiture. I worked like a demon and cleared an astonishing amount, selling some in a yard sale (see June '08 posts) and giving the rest away. A few weeks ago, I noticed things starting to back up again. I cleared much from my office & closet & bathroom & dressers. I felt sooooo smug. Until today.

When I opened my under-bed storage box, pulled up the tray with my everyday stuff (gold, duh) I found ... seven pairs of sterling hoops that I haven't worn in eighteen months (two of which I bought in that time frame) ... eleven 925 chains that didn't even have pendants attached (in a big, orgy-like heap of tangled links) ... eight rhinestone buttons - buttons! - of various sizes ... and three pairs of broken earrings waiting to be fixed.

Now, understand, I really had done a lot of work, even here. Seriously! I picked and pulled and organized just a few days ago. I remember clearly bagging silver rings and turquoise and onyx. And yet I kept things. I excused. I hemmed and hawed until I just ... didn't part with it.

I can't do this. I won't. I realized today that instead of being a channel for all of this wonderful "learning curve" stuff, I've somehow let myself get snagged in the u-bend between "conspicuous consumption" and "twelve-step program" - hell, I'm one slow drip away from an intervention! I knew - I know - that if I can't blow these pipes for good, I'm going to have the 15 minutes of fame that we supposedly all have ... on the Arts & Entertainment Network.

I had a vision today, and I couldn't claw the donation bags open fast enough because of it. My excess will be gone tomorrow even if I have to walk it to the nearest thrift store.

Anybody need a 16" glass funnel?

Christmas Treasures

This Christmas wasn't one I looked forward to. Plans changed (a lot), priorities shifted, illness hit (the Lug more than me), and somehow the holidays crossed the finish line before I did. "Surreal" doesn't begin to describe it. And yet, somehow, it was a very good day.

Just the two of us this year, for the first time ... ever. Even before the Trips (one year), we spent the holidays with parents, and the first Christmas just us, as a family, was when we were two kids into the three.

Funny that. I didn't look forward to that one much, either. We were living in a foreign country, an ocean away from everything we knew. Two kids, one a year-and-a-half, one four months. We both worked. We both stressed. And it was tough. I wasn't going to do it. The kids were young - what would they know, right? But Christmas Eve, I caved. I couldn't let my daughter's first memory of the holiday be empty. So I went to the base store, bought the only tree there - the homeliest, Charlie Brown leaner you ever saw. One box of ornaments left. Not enough. But there were four boxes of variously flavored candy canes stuck behind a fake Santa. A few toys on naked shelves. Enough lights to sparkle, no more. And three tubes of Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls in the fridge case.

Every Christmas for years afterward, the three common elements were always candy canes, toys doled out (because there weren't always many), and (other than the one time I tried homemade) those sticky, outrageously delicious canned rolls. A few years ago, we stopped the candy canes because they make almost all peppermint now (boring). And the rolls (all watched waistlines). But we all - still whether here or somewhere else - all take turns opening presents, one by one, giving everyone a chance to open, hold up for the rest to admire, and even sometimes play with the gift.

Today it was just the Big Lug and me. Oddly, it was nice. The presents were few (watch winder for him, gold tester for me ... plus some books and videos) but the warmth, the love, all the good things were still there. It's been an amazing day, as it always is ... no matter what leads up to it.

I hope your holidays were filled with laughter, loved ones, and light. And that your special day, whatever it might be, was better than your warmest dreams. As mine was.

The World Recreated ... One More Time

Hey, I'm here! In my new digs! If you're a first-timer, I've put the "Basics" into a file of archived blogs (in reverse chronological order right now ... gotta figure out how to fix that) so you can see the rules of the game. I'm also in the process of grouping some of my favorite posts, showcasing my favorite bargains and finds. But I'm still doing major reno work here so don't be surprised if there's new gadgets, new colors, even a new subtitle the next time you log on. I'm not the techno-geek in the family. And I'm still trying to find my voice.

See, this started as a blog about getting out of debt, straightening out the finances, and retiring rich. It turned into something weirder and wonderfuller.

Welcome to my midlife crisis.

And my (hopefully) lifelong passion.

Under the Knife

Remember when I made my "New Year's" resolutions (Labor Day)? I said I would "start something over, from scratch." The Big Lug's surprise visit is the best excuse I can think of to do just that.

Yep, this blog is going into cold storage for awhile - to get a face-lift. Watch the changes happen before your very eyes ...

... and then disappear forever.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. And maybe Merry Christmas, too.

Nah.

Busted ... Maybe

He caught me - the Big Lug waltzed into my office while I had my blog prominently displayed, and then he stared ... and stared ... and stared.

Okay, so maybe he didn't see what I was doing, exactly, or why I was doing it. He didn't say anything, actually, and I'm pretty sure he couldn't quite read the header from that distance (his eyes, of course ... he cowboys up every time the optometrist is mentioned). But I'm also pretty sure he's now certain I'm hiding something - especially since I stared back at him, gaping like a big, guilty Bunny-fish before I whipped around and minimized the damned window.

I'm a really bad liar, have I told you that? I can evade like nobody's business (and have been for years), but when confronted I crumble like month-old crullers.

Part of me is glad. I've been struggling with this quest lately, juggling so many disparate parts that I have trouble with the details of my regular life. I'm tempted to reveal my secret identity, open my heart, let the whole sordid tale pour forth, then ask for his help ... with his own retirement.

The other part wants to distract him. Bare my soul, pah - baring my breasts would make him forget everything he saw, and be more fun anyway. (He's a dog, it's true.)

Yet another fragment (a pretty solid one) recognizes that the most joy I've had thus far is the treasure hunting, so maybe I should just work (behind the scenes?) on the other four ways to make money (sans blog ... mostly) and change this to a "Bunny Hunts" blog. (I did just find another pair of Tiffany earrings this morning ... seriously, I did.)

Of course, maybe he's just toying with me, waiting until the perfect moment to challenge me with my perfidy ... some time after the naked parts, no doubt ... in which case by tonight he might ... he could ...

Argh! I don't know what to do! I've put Acid Trip on high alert, though. With any luck we can put our heads together (soon) and find a scathingly brilliant, decidedly devious plan to cover it all up. Or let it all out. Or ignore it until it goes away.

Sigh. See you all Monday.

Maybe.