Project 3650: Items 152-179

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I found this really ironic card in a pile of letters seven years old.

My friend, Greg Vranizan, sent this card to me after I moved out of my dream home that I  lived in with my soon-to-be ex-husband. I was despondent. I recall that move-out well. I didn’t have time to be selective about what I took, I just had to get the hell out of there. I remember digging into my closet and finding what amounted to trash packed into the corners. I was pissed at myself that I had been saving that kind of crap but I didn’t have time to do triage, so I shoved it in a box and moved it to my new home. So home is where the heart is, but it’s not shoved in a box. It’s buried under a pile of junk.

After being hung over yesterday I can’t tell you how good it feels to NOT DRINK. Seriously, why does anyone drink? I mean, it’s fun while you’re doing it but the day after? There is a special place in hell for those who overindulge and have kids to deal with in the morning. Really, I don’t know how alcoholics do it.

Today is ridiculously busy. I didn’t walk the dog yesterday (I mean the hour-long walk, he went around the block plenty of times) for the first time in months and I’m feeling guilt ridden. So that’s 90 minutes spoken for. I’m taking a Pole Dance workshop with Estée Zakar, that’s another 90 minutes. I promised to do a little pole dance “study hall” with a friend at my house so we can keep up with our skills (60 minutes) and Lonny is throwing a holiday party for his bird club so we have to clean up the house. And I need to give him a haircut. And put up the Christmas Tree. Yikes.

So here’s today’s quickie haul; not bad, I think. It hasn’t taken long for me to retrain myself to see something superfluous and, instead of tidying it up, I put it in the to-go pile. Aside from the writing and listing of the stuff, it’s really easy.

3L13Nb3H55N15K35Hdcc95b7bf733782a1125This is a chair that never gets used, except when the kids take the cushion off and use it for fort building. Furthermore, it obstructs a very nice cabinet that is full of lovely dishes that I never look at and therefore never use. It’s gotta go, but it’s a nice piece of Mid-Century-Modern design (no tags so I don’t know the provenance) but I’d be happy to part with it for $75. You can see more pictures on Craigslist.

http://denver.craigslist.org/fuo/3467138136.html

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Sony Walkman Portable Minidisc Recorder MZ-R50. Lonny brought this home years ago. I need to test it and see if I can find a cord for it so I can list it on eBay. He once sold something like this to a man, and I’m not making this up, seeking to make an audio recording of Big Foot. Why just audio? How about some photographs? Or video? Who knows. Why Big Foot?

http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=170957055946

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This is a total pile of junk. There’s an I Spy game for your Mac, another massager that just burns through batteries, a scarf that came from nowhere (did you leave it here?), a couple nice bottles with cork stoppers, a piece of carpet tile, a little tape player and a really ugly thing I made in ceramics. Alana Mace threw the base, I built a ball and then I hot glued shells to it. I saw one at a spa in California and decided to make my own. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Given some recent FB posts, I’m feeling sheepish about having engaged in such activity.IMG_0141

My mother-in-law insists on giving us magazine subscriptions. National Geographic is a wonderful publication but seriously, I don’t have the time. So there they are, still in the wrapper, making me feel guilty.IMG_0140

Ditto Smithsonian.

IMG_0139Sticker books my kids either completed or aren’t into.

IMG_0158This is one of those items that will bite me in the ass. A kid (not mine) knocked this lamp over and broke the glass so it’s been sitting in this corner, naked CF bulbs and all, for several years. Lonny says it’s a really nice piece and although I don’t see it, I’ll bet anything that the next time I browse a coffee table book of hip vintage interior design, this very lamp will be front and center and I’ll be all, “Why didn’t I listen to Lonny?!”

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