I returned from Arizona the state of guns and heat!...scary actually when you think of them together. I came home to an empty home, a blessed empty home! I don't think I have had that pleasure in several years...because we have a large home it seems many of our kids have used it as a stopping off place...some for several years at a time; bringing "their" kids with them.
Closets I had used to put winter clothing (Yes in California there is a bit of change in the weather.) were confiscated by the "visiting" family member and hangers on...to have my stuff squished into a very small space in our bedroom. I had one daughter state that growing up she thought I was selfish because I wanted my own things, including my own bathroom. I think she forgot I shared most everything with a very large...often dirty from work, man.
The house was quiet, WOW! neato. And to think I had longed for noise when the last kid moved out, now it was heaven. The frantic cleaning and picking up began...don't forget I have a bit of OCD so I decided the only piles would be in the garage. It took almost three days from morning until late at night to get all the stuff left in the two rooms most recently lived in, sorted and packed ready for pick up with the next visit here. I folded and sorted and compressed toys, clothing and other bits into boxes...and piles for the garage. After muscling them down the stairs and safely into the darkness of the garage. I re-claimed the closets neatly putting my things in rows on new hangars getting all ready for when Patrick will move back from Chandler in a few weeks.
Purge is the word Patrick loves, almost more than any other. Subsequently I always seem to have something to put out to donate to the blind...don't ask me how those blind folks find the house, but they do! I have done my best not to bring anything new into the house for a few years now, except needed clothing, or food, so when we move, or go on a mission we can travel light...Ha! if packing up over 32 years of living in one house will be light.
I have decided for the most part we could sell a lot of the furniture in a garage sale. None is as nasty as the green velvet couch that was propped up on a rock we wanted to take to the Rose Parade and leave it there! But I am assuming the our much smaller abode will call for lots less stuff. I don't want to use a storage place...I decided if you have so much stuff it won't fit where you live...you do need to purge.
The weird thing is I have discovered the majority of our stuff are memories. Genealogy, mementos of trips that bring back fond memories...a plethora of photos. (for the past 3-5 years they are now on digital Cd's). I thought I could part with the two boxes I have stored under our bed, but after a very careful look I think I discarded only a few papers. I'm not sure why, but some things are too difficult to put in the junk heap, and who knows it may be worth something someday.
For example, my 1984 Olympic box. It has certificates, photos, my medical uniform...including shoes and hat, as well as daily dot-matrix print outs of winners and items of interest. I collected pins during that time because as a thank you for medical treatment I was often given a team or other type of pin. I usually did not have anything to trade back, so all my 50 or so pins I have in a case hung in the living room were gifts.
The journal I kept for the first few weeks at various venues was interesting. I read that my first call was to work at Lake Casitas as medical staff for Rowing and Canoeing, then soon after came another call to assist with the children who were part of the opening ceremonies. Then weeks went by with no communication. In August of 1983 I got a letter to send in my forms again and began to realize there was confusion between different agencies. In October, then November I got requests to fill out additional paperwork. I began to think I needed my own xerox machine. Always the letters stated how lucky we were to be able to donate our time! Two more sets of forms arrived in late November and again in December.
Then nothing for several months and in April of '84 I got a request to attend orientation at Daniel Freeman Hospital...we were all fingerprinted and told we would work at various sport venues for athlete or spectator first aid. Some were told they would work checking for drugs (tinkle patrol) after each competition. I was glad I was not selected for that job.
Four meetings in May resulted in my assignment to the photo journalists and International Broadcasting, mostly at CBS studio. I finally got my credentials and uniform. I met the other nurses working at the venue, and most are from Henry Mayo Hospital where I work. So many meetings now I am away from the kids too much, but Patrick is picking up the slack. We now are meeting many of the athletes who come to the venue to be interviewed and will be able to watch what is happening at several of the venues at once on huge monitors.
My Journal is very detailed and I am not sure how I kept it up as I was crazy busy at that time. How can I throw it away! Or any of the papers, photos or memories...so I won't! I cleaned off the dust from the top of the plastic container...and shoved it back under the bed.
Maybe I'll have better luck getting rid of some of my stuff in the den...maybe!
Closets I had used to put winter clothing (Yes in California there is a bit of change in the weather.) were confiscated by the "visiting" family member and hangers on...to have my stuff squished into a very small space in our bedroom. I had one daughter state that growing up she thought I was selfish because I wanted my own things, including my own bathroom. I think she forgot I shared most everything with a very large...often dirty from work, man.
The house was quiet, WOW! neato. And to think I had longed for noise when the last kid moved out, now it was heaven. The frantic cleaning and picking up began...don't forget I have a bit of OCD so I decided the only piles would be in the garage. It took almost three days from morning until late at night to get all the stuff left in the two rooms most recently lived in, sorted and packed ready for pick up with the next visit here. I folded and sorted and compressed toys, clothing and other bits into boxes...and piles for the garage. After muscling them down the stairs and safely into the darkness of the garage. I re-claimed the closets neatly putting my things in rows on new hangars getting all ready for when Patrick will move back from Chandler in a few weeks.
Purge is the word Patrick loves, almost more than any other. Subsequently I always seem to have something to put out to donate to the blind...don't ask me how those blind folks find the house, but they do! I have done my best not to bring anything new into the house for a few years now, except needed clothing, or food, so when we move, or go on a mission we can travel light...Ha! if packing up over 32 years of living in one house will be light.
I have decided for the most part we could sell a lot of the furniture in a garage sale. None is as nasty as the green velvet couch that was propped up on a rock we wanted to take to the Rose Parade and leave it there! But I am assuming the our much smaller abode will call for lots less stuff. I don't want to use a storage place...I decided if you have so much stuff it won't fit where you live...you do need to purge.
The weird thing is I have discovered the majority of our stuff are memories. Genealogy, mementos of trips that bring back fond memories...a plethora of photos. (for the past 3-5 years they are now on digital Cd's). I thought I could part with the two boxes I have stored under our bed, but after a very careful look I think I discarded only a few papers. I'm not sure why, but some things are too difficult to put in the junk heap, and who knows it may be worth something someday.
For example, my 1984 Olympic box. It has certificates, photos, my medical uniform...including shoes and hat, as well as daily dot-matrix print outs of winners and items of interest. I collected pins during that time because as a thank you for medical treatment I was often given a team or other type of pin. I usually did not have anything to trade back, so all my 50 or so pins I have in a case hung in the living room were gifts.
The journal I kept for the first few weeks at various venues was interesting. I read that my first call was to work at Lake Casitas as medical staff for Rowing and Canoeing, then soon after came another call to assist with the children who were part of the opening ceremonies. Then weeks went by with no communication. In August of 1983 I got a letter to send in my forms again and began to realize there was confusion between different agencies. In October, then November I got requests to fill out additional paperwork. I began to think I needed my own xerox machine. Always the letters stated how lucky we were to be able to donate our time! Two more sets of forms arrived in late November and again in December.
Then nothing for several months and in April of '84 I got a request to attend orientation at Daniel Freeman Hospital...we were all fingerprinted and told we would work at various sport venues for athlete or spectator first aid. Some were told they would work checking for drugs (tinkle patrol) after each competition. I was glad I was not selected for that job.
Four meetings in May resulted in my assignment to the photo journalists and International Broadcasting, mostly at CBS studio. I finally got my credentials and uniform. I met the other nurses working at the venue, and most are from Henry Mayo Hospital where I work. So many meetings now I am away from the kids too much, but Patrick is picking up the slack. We now are meeting many of the athletes who come to the venue to be interviewed and will be able to watch what is happening at several of the venues at once on huge monitors.
My Journal is very detailed and I am not sure how I kept it up as I was crazy busy at that time. How can I throw it away! Or any of the papers, photos or memories...so I won't! I cleaned off the dust from the top of the plastic container...and shoved it back under the bed.
Maybe I'll have better luck getting rid of some of my stuff in the den...maybe!
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