Collections, Acquisition, Gifts

We didn't have to deal with many gifts this year. And by 'deal' I mean find a place for them, write 'thank you' notes for them, etc. Does that seem crass and ungrateful? In the past, I collected things or was interested in things and these collections inspired gifts. Same for my husband and I as a couple and him separately. Same for our parents (whose effects we had to dispose of from 2002-2011).

This year we allowed each other to buy things 'for Christmas.' My husband got a sports coat and, I think, a book. I got a page-a-day French word and phrase calendar. I'm going to order a gadget from Amazon eventually. He bought me a beautiful winter scarf and I bought him an expensive tie (which he'd admired). Gift exchange (and disposing or saving wrapping) took minutes. We received gifts from my niece by mail. An interesting book (mentioned in an earlier entry), a rocks glass with an etching of an NYC map and some comestibles (mentioned in an earlier entry as well). We've mostly consumed the edibles. I've read about half the book and enjoyed the pictures of aging people. The glass awaits a Manhattan on the rocks for me or a guest. The truth is we have lots of fancy glassware some on display (as shown here) and some tucked away in a small bar, a console and cabinets.

All this stuff has to be maintained. Dusted, sorted, occasionally given away. The little cart above contains a remnant of an old collection of deco barware. It is a drinks pump with little glasses. It's never been used by us. It's just decoration. We have other barware decorating some bookshelves. This particular piece was found by my sister who had my dad buy it for us. Collections are like that. People add to them. Folks used to give me bendable figures with some regularity. Also, above you see several Welcome Kitties. My husband saw one in a bar, ordered one off eBay and then acquired a few others. So it goes. One year a friend sent a Welcome Kitty Christmas ornament after seeing a video of the Welcome Kitties welcoming with their paws. It usually sits with its animated buddies but currently is part of the Christmas decor with the only other glass ornaments we have. (We don't do a tree.)

Right now most surfaces have some of my Christmas (mostly bendable) figures collection. (See also the barware on this shelf.)

And books. Oh. My. Books. We buy them, we get them as gifts. And we have trouble weaning the collection. (We did give away over a thousand before moving from our large house in 2008.)

The stuff. The 'collections.' Fun. But sometimes overwhelming. At one time or the other, I dabbled in collecting things besides bendables and barware. There were the old globes. There was the vintage toy collection. There was dabbling in fake food. I accumulated pastis pitchers for a party decoration. And then there's the glassware (we still have most of that). The collections don't seem to inspire gifts as much anymore.

Fortunately, we receive very few gifts at all. This year my last remaining aunt sent a 100 dollar bill in her Christmas card. We decided that we would go hear a band and instead of our usual twenty-dollar tip share the C note with them. And we did. We got our money's worth. We explained the tip to the bandleader and how we felt spending it this way gave us the most possible psychic income.

Keeping A Record

Remember when having a picture of something involved film? Remember the furor over instant photography where the film developed right after you took it? But then to share it you had to send it off for reprints? These vintage cameras were for sale the other day in Uncommon Objects on South Congress. (For a reverie on the Polaroid Camera from five years ago see here.)

Remember when words on paper meant longhand, typing or typesetting?

Well, now it should be easier to keep a record of your life, right? Digital stills, digital videos, digital voice recorders; digital scanners to convert those old pictures and slides to pixels; computers to process our words and blogging sites like this to format them, date them, search them; and social media preserving your real-time comments and making sharing what you're doing so easy.

But somehow I still lose track of my life. Puzzle over what I did yesterday and wonder why I don't have a photo of something.

There is a comfort in it sometimes, though. That one can still get lost. Hide a bit from others and be a recluse.

Today is the first day of Holidailies. Drivel like this is supposed to be my gift to you my reader. But if it fell short just see what other participants have written that might enhance your day. I guess I'll be a little exposed here for the next month. However, I'm not going to be doing a blow-by-blow diary of my activities here most days. Just little ramblings. I have been keeping a diary offline lately. I used it yesterday to figure out when I last got a haircut. And so it goes.

Is It Ever Enough?

[The W Hotel which is under construction near us is due to have condos in it in addition to hotel rooms, bars and restaurants and the Austin City Limits Music Hall. There has been a sales center on site for a while but now they are completely redoing the sales center. Or so they say. We wonder if the condos are being ditched for hotel rooms. So, naturally, I co-oped their sign and shot my reflection in it.]

Did you ever wonder what would happen if you really, finally got everything you wanted? Would there be a point where, really, it was enough?

The Pleasure of Wearing Things Out
Except for things that are consumable and things that wear out, I have everything I need. And most of what I want. It's a pleasure getting a new pair of tennis shoes, new underwear (thanks, big Sis, for that Christmas present) and a new Polartec hoodie. I was thinking the other day that the towels and bathmats we are using are now about four years old. They are holding up pretty well, but it will be fun to replace them.

Naturally, I love buying food, booze, meals out, experiences (tickets to things and travel). But one is limited in the amount of this that one can consume. I guess I could crave more caviar and champagne, but, honestly, I get enough of that to suit me. I would love more trips to Europe and I suppose I could get used to limos and private jets, but really just having the money for a few trips on commercial airliners, a few taxi rides and a few car service trips, moderate to expensive (to me) hotels and museums and restaurants is fine.

I like things that you spend money on and then they are just pleasant memories.

Second Home Not Required
Guys like Madoff (and the people whose millions he invested) needed multiple homes. And yachts with more square feet than my condo. I am not pleased that I own another home besides this condo. Dad lives there and that's great, but I fear that one day I'll have to dispose of it. The prospect doesn't interest me. My in-laws own a little cottage, too. Ditto on not looking forward to disposing of it for them. (Or even owning it if we outlive them which I think most days we will not do.) I wouldn't want to have multiple homes to manage. Let alone boats and planes. Oh, sure, you hire people to manage it. But I have trouble managing help. No thanks. I once said that, left to my own devices, I might live in hotels.

Gear, Gadgets and Autos
I'm pretty happy with my computers and cameras. I know that my seven-year-old (more?) cell phone will have to be replaced at some point. Not today though. Battery still takes a charge, sound crystal clear. I bought an iPod. I got some new computer gear for the condo and flat screen TVs and a Blu-Ray player and surround sound. We're fixed for a while. I do have in mind some new digital cameras and a GPS gadget, but I've put this on hold while I do some research. And, of course, I have the money to buy them if I want them. I'm going to get one of those small computers for travel, too, I think. Maybe. One day. Still researching.

My Hondo Civic is eight years old. It has some dents and dings. It runs fine and gets 30mpg in town. I made my commitment to it by doing some semi-major fixes last time I had it serviced. I don't drive that much anymore. FFP's Accord is only a couple of years old. Seems like brand new. Has an XM radio. Cool.

So, gear and wheels: very satisfied, no desire for a Mercedes or an iPhone (not just now anyway).

And, if I want something I could buy it.

Art, Artifacts, Collections, Furnishings
We can't accumulate too much more art or artifact or furniture without throwing something out. Which, along the way, I'm sure we will do. Not now, though. Of all the things I've dabbled at collecting, that's all pretty much at an end. Not that we don't acquire the occasional thing, but I really am amazed at some of the wholesale accumulation I did in the past. I must say, too, that much of that 'stuff' has moved along the pipeline to, hopefully, be reused somewhere.

What Are These Guys Thinking?
So what goes through the millionaire (billionaire?) mind as they build homes with tens of thousands of square feet, buy yachts, accumulate collections of paintings and sculpture with pieces worth more than my condo? Oh, I understand throwing a big party and having a bunch of people eating and drinking. I understand wanting a nice car. Really. (Although I'd much rather have someone to drive me around in my Hondos. Oh, wait, I have FFP.)

Do these really, really rich folks ever think about reaching a point where it is enough, pretty much, and consumables and maintenance and refreshing is all that's needed? If I can get there, is it possible for anyone? I know that my mom never really got enough stuff. She always wanted a bit more. Just for the thrill of having what she once did not or having something new and interesting. Even when she was dying I could see this. I don't think I'm so different from her. I just think I reached a normal human saturation point we all have. I think Mr. Madoff and his ilk may have damaged saturation meters, though. And that may be part of the problem. Part of what drives people to steal.

Also, I belong to a country club, too, but not one like the Madoff crowd. (Nor would I want to belong.) Which, in any case, was in Florida, a state that doesn't call out to me.

Having Enough Feels Good
Having enough food, clothing and shelter. Having health needs met. Having some fun! Tennis this morning at the country club. (Roddick worked out on the court below us. Does he have enough? Or would being number one for a while be enough?)

Anyway, I had a great time with my three friends playing tennis. A walk over to the Farmer's Market to buy some Texas Pecans for my dad for Christmas. Some pastries from the empanada stand. I'll have a meal and maybe a movie or performance with some friends tonight.

I have enough. It feels good. If I get depressed it's not something cars or electronics (or even travel and meals) will cure.

I'm No Expert

Some time back in 2001 I shot this picture of collectibles and stuff I had in the spare bedroom. The shiny toy cars, I gave away. The battered Tonka VW still decorates our bedroom and I hope to take it along to the condo and find a book shelf or spot for it. The old Pick Up Sticks were given away, I think, but I'm not sure where. The Band-Aids with the South African flag motifs? I stuck those in the medicine in the spare bathroom along with a little tin of aspirin (remember those 'push both corners to open' tins?). I thought it would amuse those guest who open the medicine cabinet to see what's in there.

The flask with old Russian medals I think I gave to the thrift store or the Settlement Club garage sale. I saved the bendable posable figure because it is an old one. But I'm not entirely sure where it is.

I'm no expert on anything collectible but I know a little about bendable, posable (collectible) figures. The oldest you will find probably say 'Made in West Germany' on one foot or a leg or the back. Made there after the war and before the economy recovered. Then the manufacture of such cheap toys moved to Japan, then Hong Kong then China. Detailed painting (with lead?) disappeared along the way.

I'm no expert on much of anything, collectible or otherwise. I never got too deeply into the ins and outs of the things I was attracted to or collected idly. I would buy a globe or a toy because it was cool-looking or reminded me of something. I did buy books about toy collecting (as you can see here) but truthfully I just glanced through them and said 'cool' and then put them on the shelf. (I've given those away to my sister.)

And your point is, LB? Nothing. I'm no expert and I've no need to keep things unless I just like them. And, you know, have room for them.

The Romance of Paper

My doomsday title of yesterday's post ("The End of Paper") sent my most loyal reader (well, the most loyal commenter for sure) scurrying for an article she read in a publication in defense of paper. Now, I'm sure paper will survive. Print is becoming, however, a companion to bits and bytes and sound waves. I read the actual newspapers on the exercise bike while glancing up at the five television they provide at the gym. (I rarely plug into the sound, just looking at stock quotes and those handy running news feeds.) When I find something interesting in the actual New York Times like I did yesterday, I can refer you to the online article. I can e-mail it to people, too. And I can save it, electronically, in a sort of virtual clip file.

As I sort through books, unable to give up a (too large) number of them, I go down rabbit holes of reading. The above scan is of the cover of a book I bought some years ago in a second-hand store. I read it and found it intriguing because this escaped German POW who turned himself in forty years later got this book published before turning himself in. When I got this book, probably around 1993, online research was in its infancy. So I never found out the story's end...what happened when he turned himself in. I lent the book to my dad in 2001 to read and then stumbled on it in 2003 again while looking for books for him to read. Then I did some research with the Internet capabilities of ten years later. Here is an excerpt from my 2003 journal about that:

I started collecting first person accounts from World War II over twenty years ago. I picked up a book (Howard K. Smith's Last Train from Berlin) at my in-laws' house and read it. It was so interesting reading abuot events just before I was born and seeing the events through the eyes of one person in the vortex of history. The story had such individual urgency and yet the events were sweeping the whole world along. I went to the secondhand book stores and searched out similar books. A lot of them were like this copy of Smith's book. They were printed during the war or just after and were now old and musty, especially since the best quality paper couldn't be used. There were stories by refugees and journalists, foot soldiers and pilots, resistance fighters and civilians in the way of war. There were harrowing accounts of concentration camps, POW camps, fox holes and war rooms. There were touching accounts of lives touching, caroming off and spinning away from each other forever. Sometimes I felt that a big patchwork quilt of a story was being told to me, adding up to something like the truth. If truth is chaos and confusion. Sometimes the stories touched, recounting the same event from two sides or the people actually met.

About ten years ago I picked up a more recent book that still fit the genre. I bought it at Half Price Books for $2.98. It was published in 1985. The book was Hitler's Last Soldier in America by Georg Gaertner with Arnold Krammer. Georg was a member of Rommel's Afrika Corps and was captured and sent to New Mexico. He escaped from the POW camp in 1945 when the war was over. He was afraid of being repatriated into Russian hands. He lived without detection until 1985 when he published a book. The book implied that he would turn himself in, in conjunction with the publication.

As Dad and I talked about the book, I told him that I'd never found out what happened to the guy when he turned himself in. It had been a while since I'd tried to search and I'd never been that serious about it. I had tried the Internet once, I think, a few years ago. I gave it another shot and found the resume of the co-author, a professor at Texas A&M. I clicked on his e-mail and told him about buying the book and wondering. He wrote back in short order. Amazing. I printed his e-mail and put it in the book.

Georg's story is so improbable. You live in Germany, there is a war, you end up in the U.S. living a life. Your hometown is now in Poland. Life goes on for forty years and then you admit that you are not just a ski instructor, tennis player and amateur painter, but this last unaccounted for POW.

But everyone's history is interesting when you dig into it and see what happened and how and when. How some things seemed to be choice and some events just steamrolled the person. And how the generatons come and go, considered less than you might think by children and grand children.

Yesterday I found the book again. I was pretty sure I'd keep it, but I decided to see how easy it would be to replace if I didn't. This is something I often do. I'll say "yeah I might read this some day" and then I'll see that I could get one secondhand on the Internet easily. So I'll give it away and figure I'll buy one if I ever want to read or reread it. Well, Georg Gaertner's story wasn't that available. Powell's offered to let me know if they got one. A couple of dealers offered them at high prices. I decided to keep it. The e-mail from his writing collaborator is printed on paper and tucked inside. The reason I scanned the cover is so that my Library Thing bookshelf could show the cover. (By the way, on Library Thing, four other people have cataloged the book.)

As I sort through the books some have wonderful covers, beautiful paper (although the WWII era ones alluded to above are on awful wartime paper) and great inset pictures. It's hard to beat the experience of a book. Or a newspaper. I still like to fill in the crossword on the newsprint even though I have access to the fancy online crosswords.

The end of paper? No, paper and pixels will blend. Your book will come with a WEB page. As most do today. You will research things online and then buy an obscure book from a store across the country or find out online that it is in your library down the street or across town.

Random Roundup

My Useless Occupations: The me in the mirror. Goofing off, taking photos, not doing anything useful. Last Sunday. I've been playing a little tennis and working out. One needs activity but it doesn't get the downsizing and cleaning done. Today we went out for a big breakfast. Tennis was rained out. I wasn't really sorry. I wanted to goof off, eat too much, let it settle and then go for a workout. (I hope I will do that anyway.)

I've been blogging every day here. As you probably know if you are reading this. Also, on Austin Daily Photo. And keeping a personal journal on the computer, of course. Great time wasters these. Which has kept me from committing to paper (or computer rather) a short story that is almost completely written in my head.

Downsizing: Have I mentioned that my office is neat? Whether I get more work done is questionable. My desk upstairs where I work on some filing and bookkeeping is a disaster at the moment and I did lose track of something but it was filed when we found it! More than once since I put everything away and made neat work surfaces I've had to scratch my head over where I filed something. Actually I've gotten rid of lots of stuff and gone through lots of files so there are some nearly empty file drawers in here. The thing is that I have to completely clear this room so it can be painted and so that we can refinish the floors. That is daunting. And I have to move all my projects and computing upstairs so I have to mangle through the mess up there.

Part of downsizing is getting stuff shredded that needs to be shredded. And there is a lot of that stuff. I do a little bit, marveling at some of the old receipts and checks and stuff, and then I get tired of it and do something else.

I have to shake my head as I go through our stuff. There is physical evidence of unrealized transient passions. Maybe we went to a cooking class (which we did) for Vegetarian cooking. Hence we came to own a wok I Freecycled, a spring form pan I lost the bottom to (I think) and a number of cookbooks. (One of which I keep because I like to look up its advice for cooking brown rice if not stir fries and tofu cheesecakes in spring form pans.) And of course there is the smallish (less than a dozen volumes) collection of old travel books. I bought one in the wonder of a book shop that was once in San Antonio (Brock's) and then assembled a small number before losing interest. I indulged a passion for World War II first person accounts for years and the result is piles and piles of books. Scores? Hundreds? It's hard to give them up, too, because many are surely out of print. And, of course, there are bendies (I gave a bunch away but some remain); martini shakers, siphons and old chrome coffee service; martini glasses; other 'collectible' glassware. Need I go on? FFP had quite a huge collection of conspiracy and Kennedy assassination material. To his credit he let a large amount of it go.

Yesterday FFP went once again to the thrift store with a trunk full of stuff. Out of here: napkins and place mats that won't fit our new decor; cook books (the joke isn't how many we gave way but how many we kept!); amusing picture frames; candle holders with bees on them; some other books and decorative items.

When we find something that once belonged to someone else or we think they might especially want, we try to contact them. Today an old buddy of FFP's from advertising days came to take away a painting he'd left behind in FFP's first house before I ever knew him. Many staples, screws and stretchers later the canvas pieces of the multi-part thing were stowed in a garbage bag to go back to New York.

Slowly, slowly the downsizing continues. It's important not to get discouraged and to remember how little you miss this stuff when it is gone. The clean surfaces in my office will have to be given up, at least temporarily, to refurbing the room but they are possible only because I've cleaned enough out of drawers and closets to stuff things away. Many projects loom. Maybe I'll make a list. Lists are much easier than the doing!

Reading List

When I retired I imagined I'd read all of Dickens. Truth is I have a set of Dickens that belonged to my great grandfather. I've decided to keep them. Why not read them? Am I? No. But. I found a book on tape collection of "A Tale of Two Cities," "The Old Curiosity Shop," and "Barnaby Rudge." As I mentioned earlier I am sort of curating my goodbye to all the 'stuff' and one way I do that is to listen to cassette tapes and then give them away. I'm pretty sure I listened to this set before, but it's my nod to not reading the Dickens that belonged to my great grandfather. I also read books and parts of magazines and then discard them to the thrift store, a friend or recycling.

I am reading at least five books right now. Ulysses, of course. I'm on page 634 of 933, I think. I'm not sure because the other day my bookmark fell out and it was amazingly difficult to find where I was. I'm also reading Simon Winchester's Krakatoa which is amazing. I'm about a quarter in on that puppy. I'm about halfway through a book by Thatcher Freund called Objects of Desire about antique collecting, specifically American furniture and featuring three particular pieces. About halfway through that one. (Confession: it's a bathroom book.) A friend gave me a copy of Peter Carey's Theft that lost a battle with a glass of wine and is falling apart and red-tinted. I'm keeping that in my car as an emergency book for when I forget to take other reading material in my car. It's a pretty good book from what I read so far. I am getting behind on my newspapers. The good news is I found a place to keep the unread ones where they don't look so messy. That's the bad news, too, of course.

My Useless Occupations, Redux: Well blogging certainly keeps one from doing anything useful so I must stop.

The Flamingos

Actual (paraphrased) conversation from, I think, yesterday:

Himself: Should we just get rid of the flamingos?

Herself: Eventually, but not right now. It helps people find the house.

We were talking about our cheap plastic flamingos in front of our house. We do use them as a landmark when we want people to find the house. When it is for sale, though? No. They are out of here.

There will be no place in condo life for cheap plastic flamingos. Our high rise will have strict rules about what can be on the balconies for safety and aesthetics. Fine with me. Sadly I once had an extensive collection based on the pink birds.

It is much easier to hang on to digital photos. This one is from May 2006, our anniversary trip to Paris. I talked about this shop window before using a different shot.

I think I have five or ten cubic feet of actual prints of photos. I have discarded (or given to the art magnet school for collages) a lot of rejects and dups. But more reduction will be needed. Some I have in physical form that started out digital and some that started out as emulsion have been scanned. But mostly it was (1) develop film; (2) stick in boxes, drawers, albums; (3) sort later until nothing can really be located; (4) despair at the collection and what to do with it. I have tried to move most prints and slides to archival quality storage. Also a lot of my mom's collection. But some are still in boxes, envelopes and cheap albums. Sigh. Yeah, it's easier to keep thousands of digital prints. If, you know, you have backup!

Interlocking

They are sturdy, colorful, cute and fascinating. They pop together, interlocking with a satisfying snap. Since I'm in a twelve (or more) step program for recovering collectors, I will admit that I was tempted to collect LEGO Toys. When I realized I had money to waste, somehow I acquired LEGO sets and bricks. Oh, I had my excuses. I bought sets on sale at Target to 'give as gifts.' And mostly I gave them away. But some, no. I bought bulk bricks online to do a project for a Christmas party at work where we let the kids make ornaments from them. Someone gave me a pile that had belonged to her son. He had 'outgrown' them. I bought some trains and LEGO Christmas sets to decorate a tree at work. A few people started giving me gifts of interesting sets. Some I opened and put together. Others sat in their boxes in a closet, under the stairs in storage.

In 2005, I realized that a number of sets and piles of loose pieces were taking up lots of cubic feet of space and that I had no reason to hold them hostage. I'm not even very good at assembling LEGO stuff. Three-dimensional things are not my forté sadly. Meanwhile, my niece in Colorado was raising a house of boys. So I found as many of the sets and pieces as I could and sorted them into types or piled them up by age group. Before Christmas I shipped a bunch of them to her. Santa brought the boys special bags of LEGO that Christmas. Some sets were put aside for later gifts. I still had some sets that were too advanced for the kids so I stored those awaiting a trip to Colorado where they could wait for the boys to grow up.

I felt good about giving them away. My niece talked about all the joy they brought and she said that one night when she and her husband were searching this trove of LEGO to pick gifts and decide what to save for later that he said: "You aunt is so cool!" You don't get that much from the young people. Even if he was a thirty-something Dad.

In June my Dad and I were able to drive his van up to see the Colorado relatives. I piled in stuff to give them and included the remaining LEGO sets. There was an electric train, mint in box. With the oldest great nephew only seven, it was still too advanced for them. I'd hoped to get the sets to my niece to hide away. But we were weary when we arrived and wanted to unload the van and the boys needed entertaining so we let them help unload. The oldest convinced his mom that he could put together a small set on the spot with her help and then he talked to his dad on the cell and told him that he got it together and "it was for eight year olds!" He eyed the train wistfully. We told him it was for much later or needed assistance from his dad.

The next day we planned a dinner to celebrate a birthday and anniversary. Eight adults, two feisty boys and two infants. So we went to a noisy Buca di Beppo. We met there and my seven-year-old great nephew insisted on sitting by me. He said he had something to tell me. He had convinced his dad to put together the train and they'd spent most of the afternoon on it. He was so excited about it and drew a picture of it on the kid's menu with some stick figures beside it.

"Is that you and your dad?" I asked.

"No. It's me and you!" He said.

Of course, he's a kid and he couldn't stop talking also about running things over with the train, like mini-figs and other toys.

Now I guess I can't show up without a LEGO in hand. I don't get to see these kids this Christmas but there will be a LEGO under the tree for that boy. It would seem that once you have 10,000 bricks you could make anything and wouldn't need more sets. But the sets fascinate the kids because inside are all the parts you need and these great visual plans for making something shown on the box.

I love the idea of LEGO. But the reality of owning bricks is now limited to a couple of Christmas ornaments stuffed away with the other Christmas stuff I haven't gotten out this year. Little elves and Santas made from a few bricks. And I can always go to Colorado and visit the collection and know that when those little boys see me they think of interlocking bricks. There could be worse things.

How on Earth?

Collections that are oh so cute and seemed like such good ideas at the time. Now which ones to say goodbye to and which ones to save. These remain, patiently awaiting my decision.

It Lurks Under the Stairs

One of the spots that I need to get to in the downsizing effort is a little 'under the stairs' storage we have in our storage room. We built FFP an office above the storage room in back of the garage some years ago. The whole room is sort of storage (filing cabinets and shelves and flat files from the business, other stuff we store) but they made a door to access under the stairs for extra storage. Lurking in there are lots of things that need sorting. Among them are boxes of bendable, posable figures. I once collected them. Don't ask. When this picture was taken (2001), I had removed them from my office at work (yeah, I used to work) and stored them in a storage unit we had. The storage unit at the time had nothing else BUT these boxes. We'd rented it for my parents to migrate stuff to Austin they didn't want the movers handling and we had gotten all their stuff in a house. I'd put these boxes in the storage unit. But it seemed silly to keep the unit for some rubber toys with wires inside. So I moved them to that spot under the stairs. Since most of them have languished there except the Christmas-themed ones. I've trotted them out a few times for the holidays. I may have sorted and trimmed the contents, but I know that a few cubic feet of bendable, posable figures (yes, some Gumbys and Pokeys and lots of other themes) are under the stairs. Will I have the courage to attack this? Or, when I'm ready to move will I be tempted to put these in the tiny (43 square feet) storage unit at the condo?

Collections are sinister things, aren't they?

New York Treasure

FFP got off this shot in New York in 2005. I wasn't with him. I was in South Africa.

Late September perhaps. Still warm. Everyone needs to catch a little air.

When I have a moment I've been sorting the pictures. The idea would be to winnow down to the ones that really deserve space on the hard drive. We won't even talk about all the actual photos that need sorting with some getting tossed, some getting scanned. I probably have four or five cubic feet of actual physical photos around here. When I'm worried about downsizing, I think of cubic feet of whatever. Photos sure take up less space on hard drives. But a lot of them still creates a confusion that can be not unlike the shoebox with loose photos.

At one point I thought I might collect old photos. I stumbled on some in a bin at a junk shop and thought that I thought were so cool. This collection didn't get off the ground. And I don't know where those few I bought actually are. Somewhere in my office, I guess. If I find them, I'll scan them and show you. Meanwhile, enjoy this photo of New York.

Lots of Pink

First, I'm still sorting old photos in spare moments.

A little perspective on this one. The last job of my working life was at a company where I worked for over thirteen years. The last office I occupied was in a building that was newly built to be rented to our company's location in Austin. I chose a large but windowless office. I think we chose in seniority order and I had a lot of that.

The large size accommodated a lot of frivolity and collections and the blank walls made good places to park posters and prints that we didn't have room for at home any longer. A collection of flamingo stuff went on display. I have little of this stuff now. I saved a few things but mostly I gave it away. The neon light to a woman who worked there whose granddaugther wanted it to decorate her bedroom. A box full of the geegaws to the thrift store. When I left work I had to move home a ton of stuff and in an uncharacteristic fit of downsizing I did get rid of some of it.

While I worked there, however, I think people enjoyed the busy collection of pink flamingo stuff as well as various toys and globes and other things that decorated the place from time to time. I know it made me smile. Primarily I have photos to remember that. And that's good enough. And yeah it seems silly. Now that I'm all grown up and retired.

Letting Go

There are times when you have to let go of stuff. You even have to let go of your dreams of stuff.

Right now, in my closet, there is a pile of clothing that has to be thrown away. It's tough, but I've got to do it. Two cashmere sweaters with holes worn in the left elbow. A fine cotton custom-made shirt with the right cuff and collar frayed beyond that 'one more wearing.' It was a not quite but almost black material, a black basket weave pattern and oh so perfect for LB, traveling light, of the last few entries. Once expensive clothing but now worn and must go to the trash, not even the thrift store. I suppose the truly thrifty could add elbow patches to the sweaters, salvage the buttons or remake the shirt or make little cashmere sweaters for Barbie and Ken. I am not that person. I must throw them away. It's a little harder than the average ragged pair of underwear, though. Speaking of which, I have been known to take my ragged underthings out on a trip for 'one more wearing' and then toss them for the homeward trip, using the space in the suitcase for souvenirs.

The picture was stolen from ebay long ago. It's a detail from one of the best stamped tin toys ever, in my opinion, a cool Ferris Wheel. I once thought of being a toy collector. I didn't become one but I did collect a few things and a pile of books. I've let go of the books. Mentally anyway. They are stored at my dad's house to be taken to Colorado and donated to a toy and miniature musuem my sister is associated with.

But back to those cashmere sweaters. One was a present from FFP long ago and was an expensive one. The other I bought a long time ago, too. In a secondhand shop. For fifteen dollars. I'm sure I paid a hundred dollars for the custom shirt. But I've probably worn it a hundred times. I probably spent more than the hundred dollars on laundering it. Now I will often wear a shirt (blouse if you will...in this case the tailoring was shirt-like but the buttons went the opposite way of the menswear I sometimes co-op it being custom made and all) multiple times. Especially on trips. This shirt probably had been to Europe, maybe Africa and maybe Australia. It was well-traveled.

I'll miss these things when I let them go. They are hard to replace exactly. Custom clothing seems too extravagant for someone who is retired and spend a lot of time in sweats. And I loved that one sweater because it was such a bargain.

But you have to do it. You have to let go.

Recycling Resolutions

Here you see a picture from last year as I was gathering up my Christmas bendies to put away. I stuff them in a box and recycle that amusing collection every year.

And that's just what I'm thinking about doing for New Year's Resolutions, too. I'm going to go through the computer and come up with all the lists of resolutions from the past. And just recycle them. It would be a long list, with a lot of variations on the usual themes: lose weight, exercise, eat right, organize, communicate, simplify.

And, you know, don't collect any more cheap rubber toys with wires inside.

Bendable, Posable, Cheap and Funny

These guys are the cheapest of bendable posable figures. Probably bought them at some place like Oriental Trading for a few dollars a dozen. As labor costs soar even in the third world, cheap rubber toys with wires inside (for the bendable possibilities) have less and less detail. Some of my Santas have painted faces and boots...these have copped out with just the black belt and the white eyebrows, beard and fur. Nevertheless, even they amuse me. I grouped all these really cheap ones on a bookshelf which is newly bare due to downsizing.

Yes, I collect these figures. I have a lot of Christmas ones. I don't have the bears or candy canes offered on Oriental Trading this year. I'm trying to quit collecting. Really. But even in my downsizing frenzy, I haven't been able to face giving up this collection. Although they do pack away easily (they aren't very fragile and you just cram them in a box) I have about eight or ten cubic feet of bendable figures! Really. Still. This collection and my globe collection I think I'll keep. But I've got to keep these collections from growing. Put that down for one of my New Year's Resolutions. I am incredibly lame. The world is a mess and I'm worried about a collection of rubber things with wires inside. But it could be worse. I could collect expensive Christmas decor like elaborate nutcrackers or put out a light display that sucked thousands of dollars worth of electricity.

I think my decorations are humorous. In a way, they make me happy. So...why don't I feel festive?

The Dilettante Collector

I read something the other day about a guy who collected comic books very assiduously for many years. They were stored in very optimum conditions for a long time, too. His family is now ready to sell them for millions although they have found out that some are missing. And because he obsessively made some small cryptic pencil marks on each and every one, his heirs were able to trace them and it was probably some contractors who were 'alone with the collection' who pilfered them. I can't find this story online just now or I would link to it. So what does that have to do me anyway?

Well, that's not the kind of collector I am. I don't stick to collecting anything with that kind of single-minded diligence. Unfortunately I am tempted to save things because they might be (pick one) useful / valuable / interesting later. And I might start collecting something...say cocktail shakers, globes, bendable posable figures, etc. and amass quite a few of them without a clue about what I should be saving or discarding, how to store them, etc. I feel like a lot of times I discard something just before it becomes valuable.

I have decided to seriously get rid of stuff. We've been cleaning out the garage. We've tossed a lot of stuff, given away a lot of stuff. We are trying not to worry if it will ever be valuable, useful, sentimental. A 10x10 climate-controlled storage unit in downtown Austin goes for $377 per month. We want to move downtown one day. I must get rid of stuff. I have too much stuff. If some of it is useful, I can never find it when I need it.

I will admit, however, that it is interesting to find a box in the garage containing my tax returns from before I married and the Christmas cards I got over a decade ago. As I looked through the latter, I choked up at notes written by people who have died. I wondered at a photo of someone that I simply don't recognize. Well, OK, she is vaguely familar. But I can't save all this stuff. It's going to be hard enough to decide what to do with boxes and boxes of bendable, posable figures. Every time I go through the stuff, less and less survives. Oh, I'm going to save some things all right. But I don't think I have to worry about any contractors stealing a million dollars worth of collectibles. And that's a good thing.

I don't think dabblers end up with million-dollar collections. I once wrote a poem about me and my attention span for organizing and doing. You can see it here but I'll also reprint it here in blogger-land where I seem to spend most of my time writing to you.

Dabbler, Babbler, Dilettante
Flitting about
Cannot stop.
Focus Free
Excuse me,
I must hop!

Rambling

Ah, yes. This is one of my rather large and scattered shop window picture collection. Fortunately it's mostly pixelated. The collection that is.

I'm feeling low. Well, maybe not low. Maybe medium. I'm not always like that.

I can't really decide if I want to blog. If I want to give advice on finances. Ha. Or downsizing. Laugh out loud. Or reveal and revel in my life. I did a daily journal for so long, actually making an entry almost every day for years. Making up online journal rules and breaking them.

I never developed a following like Rob. He brought his readers from his regular journal to the Blog mostly intact I'd say. I respect the few readers I had, don't get me wrong. Especially the one or two who didn't know me in real life. I just don't think I really have ever had a following to think about.

I'm keeping a journal of sorts on my computer for my own consumption. I scribble on scraps of paper and in notebooks. I used to do it because I thought I might come up with great thoughts or at least revelations through the act of writing. Now I do it in the spirit of that movie Memento. Because otherwise I can't remember. Can't remember what to buy at the grocery store or where I was last Thursday.

So, maybe I'll blog away. Occasionally update viswoman also...even though the dates and times and links seem increasingly difficult and unnecessary given this blogging tool.

One thing, though. I have endless shop window pictures with which to entertain. And the only two comments I got seemed to appreciate those. Because really...who wants advice on finances, getting rid of junk? Who wants to hear what's making me sad?(I do realize you have to sign up to comment here. Feel free to go to viswoman and comment. No sign up necessary.)

Well it's time to go take my dad to yet another doctor's visit and help him take care of some other stuff. My exciting life.