reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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waiting for the spaceship. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

and the shiny brite spaceship gathered all the excess – from the basement, the attic, every nook and cranny – and took off at warped speed, giant contrail following it, chugging into outer space, lugging it all to the delighted beings on another planet. 

in my dreams.

no…this is cleaning out that i can’t avoid. it is time.

and all the books on our planet on this topic – ie: the konmari method (ala marie kondo), claire middleton’s sentimental person’s guide to decluttering, etc etc etc – don’t reeeeally help. (however – here’s a pro tip – sitting and reading these books certainly does successfully delay actually doing it!)

the other day we sold rockband. it was a complete set and kept in pristine condition. we sat in a grocery store parking lot and waited for the guy who bought it off craig’s list to show up. because it was christmas eve i brought a giant roll of wide ribbon so that he could simply wrap the box in lots of ribbon to put under the family tree. the moment he drove away in his hatchback – stuffed with the huge box in which i had carefully wrapped all the elements and instruments of the game – i was hooked. 

it’s time to clean out.

i guess the first place to start is the closet and the dresser. now, we only have one dresser – i have four drawers and d has one. our closets are small – remember, this is an old house – and it’s difficult to see everything because they are too tightly hung with clothing. looking at my clothes, i always ponder a few things: will this ever fit again? how can i give this away when i have emotional attachment to it? will i need this skirt/dress/pair of pants/blazer if i ever have a “traditional” job again? what about concert attire? and shoes…yikes. there’s a whole ‘nother issue. i haven’t bought many shoes at all in recent years – like the last ten or fifteen, but i still have shoes that i wore in 1995, so there are a few pairs in my closet, the closet in the sitting room and in a bin in the basement. the ones i wear over and over? very few. i suspect that is a theme…for most of us…for most of the things we place on our bodies and on our feet.

and so, it’s time.

it’s not like you haven’t read this here before. it is – yes – a recurring theme. i googled my own writings and was reminded this yen-to-shed-stuff has been going on for years. even in 2021 i wrote about the “lateral list” of things to do. let’s just say i’ve been gaining momentum. gearing up. stoking my ruthless.

eh. let’s just say i’ve been procrastinating. isn’t that what basements and attics are for? the indulging of procrastination. yup.

anyway, i have been bitten by the craig’slist, marketplace, ebay bug. maybe a few things can generate a grocery trip or two. otherwise, “free porch pick-up” and “donate here” sound good. 

the up-north gang gathered before the holiday and sipped brandy slushies. we each talked about how we had saved bins of toddler clothes, toys, trinkets for our children, now, all grown-up. we have the corners of attics and storage rooms in basements with giant plasticware carefully storing these treasures we were certain our children would want. only they don’t. they don’t want any of it. here we are, children of great depression parents – certain we were doing the right thing, the frugal thing, and yes, yes, the sentimentally thready thing – and they, children of children of great depression parents – are far enough removed from all that heavy sense of handing-it-down/passing-it-on responsibility – that they all astoundingly tell us “no thanks”. without remorse. even flippantly. as opposed to our voices when our own parents passed bins and bins and boxes and such on to us…respectfully and gratefully accepting it all, even with no clear idea what to do with it, just trusting in the storage capacity of our basements and attics. so here we all are – with bins and bins and boxes and such – in the emotionally perilous journey of cleaning out. not for the meek at heart.

it’s time.

and so, is there anyone out there who would like vintage puffy santas or the sesame street vintage play gym or a smattering of noritake china with teapot or a collection of disney vcr tapes or an 8-track player complete with 8-track tapes? perhaps multiple tiny oshkosh overalls or polly flinders smocked toddler dresses? or some fenton hobnail milk glass pieces? or decorative plates for hanging? 

time.

mayyyybe.

what i really need is a nap and a spaceship. now. 

*****

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the glitter glueline. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

the glitter is gone. but the line of glitter glue – a vestige of its shinybrite glory – is still there. the ornament is no less beautiful in its wornness.

like life. the glitter wears off, gets blown off, is scrubbed off. tiny fragile mica chips scatter and the glueline is left – an indicator of what was. there was glitter there.

there’s nothing my children like less in a wrapped present than glitter ribbon. they complain that it gets all over (which it does). for a few years i wrapped in glitter ribbon anyway – i love the juxtaposition of simple brown paper and white or silver glitter ribbon. 

but then, i decided to listen to their imploring not to use the glitter ribbon on their gifts. 

and it occurred to me that they already have plenty of glitter. their very lives are full of glitter – new experiences, new adventures, new friends and relationships, new challenges, new jobs, new places and homes and travels.

and so, i’m suddenly aware that the glitter ribbon is for me. 

there is a snowglobe that i have previously purchased as a gift for a special friend. it is a beautiful four inch heavy glass globe on a black base. and all that is in it is the snow. no tiny scene. no trees. no holiday norman rockwell. just the snow. 

i took it out of its beautiful box and wrappings to be sure it was in perfect shape after it was shipped to us. and i marveled at it. i shook it, watching the snow. glittery flitter drifted and floated. and then it was clear again. like glitter ribbon curled around brown paper – these smidges of mica. it was one of those gifts i wanted to keep. but – at the time – it was a message i wanted him to have: all things are possible. it’s a blank slate, the flitter ready to be shaken up a little.

because glitter exists. 

and there is a glueline on us all. it waits for us to dance in the falling flitter – to gather tiny mica – to stick to our lively and worn bodies, all. we wield the gluesticks. we are the shaker-uppers. we are the recipients, the restorers, the sustainers. glitter is our legacy.

*****

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the common denominators. [d.r. thursday]

some things are clearly for display purposes only. turns out that, after decades of bin-living following decades of good service on our growing-up house on long island preceded by years of i-have-no-idea, these lights are not meant for real use anymore. they lit the wrought iron porch rail for four nights…happily multi-coloring the front of our house in this early part of the season.

when i stepped outside to plug them in on monday…i found that, in its last unplugging, the plug had disassembled itself and, shy of replacing the plug and then wondering what other electrical hazard might be lurking, it would be best to gently unwind and retire the lights. it is not likely, however, that i will throw them away. instead, they will go in the bottom bin with the other strands and the mercury glass ornaments.

one of these years all those baubles will come out and we will have a retro tree, full of shiny brites and vintage balls and bells and glittery ornaments from the mid-1900s, which sounds like forever ago. perhaps another tree will stand proudly with homemade ornaments and wooden stars and collectible hallmarks – late 1900s/early 2000s. strings of popcorn and cranberries and lights. our own christmas house. this year, though, we’ll keep it simple.

we haven’t decided on THE tree yet. though we have white branches wound with (white) lights and many small green and silver trees about our home, the one deemed worthy of presents beneath it has not yet been chosen. we hesitate to go to the tree lot, though i’m not exactly sure why. buying a tree at costco or menards doesn’t really have any kind of charm. we could go to a tree farm; we have done this before and sought out the strangest looking tree, trying to take home the small pine that isn’t likely to be loved. we could go to a state forest and cut one down for a mere $5, which sounds like an adventure and could be a consideration if indeed they are trying to pare down the forest for good and earth-friendly reasons. there is a large limb trimmed by the utilities guys from our big old tree out front; we saved it. if it isn’t too big we could wrap that in lights and honor its former place in our front yard. or we could purchase a live tree…i’ve done a little research on this. buying a sweet norway spruce is a grand idea when it’s a cute five feet tall. but they grow 2-4 feet a year on average and extend to 40 to 60 feet tall, a challenge for a city lot that already has trees. even writing this i am drumming my fingers, pondering. usually the answer makes itself known to us, somehow. i guess we’ll see.

in the meanwhile we’ll keep adding little by little … a few pinecones here, a few silver balls there. our display is simple, full of stories and heart, balsam and cypress-pine candles. as i look at social media and the posting of decorations and trees and lights, i can see that those – stories and heart – are the common denominators.

*****

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