Rainy Sunday Afternoon

H. "cleaned" the garage yesterday. Translation: Move everything around in a different pattern, and bring HER stuff in to go through and hopefully it'll be so ruined she will dispose of it. I got the game.

So, what a trip through memory lane. At least I didn't cry. I've carefully cleaned frames and photos, repacked them all cleaned and treasured, and will try to get them into an unused place in the back of my closet.

I thought, before I left for Wyoming, I had given away most of the gifts from missionaires to grandkids for their keepsakes. Schools don't teach geography anymore it seems or anthropology. That's why I like Montessori. But no, there was a bumper crop of "stuff." The broken stuff was thrown away. I divided the angels out for my older daughter, the angel collector. Separated "H's" stuff out and cleaned it as well - complusive Capricorn that I am.

The "stuff"

A round leather piece depicting the continent of Africa and wildlife.

Two parrots, from Costa Rica and perhaps Nicaragua.

A wooden chocolate maker from Mexico.

A carved wooden camel and donkey from Israel.

A carved lion and a black wooden flute from Africa.

Two baskets - one from Africa and a brightly embroidered one from Costa Rica.

A carved wooden bowl and beautiful carved wooden fruits from Guatemala. (The Mr. Idunno person(s) who break(s) things and makes them disappear had emptied the bowl of some of its fruit pieces.)

Not gifts, but unrelated objects: Two circa 1930's (I think) dog figurines from occupied Japan, an angel (50's)? from Japan, a pair of zebra salt & pepper shakers (dollar store variety), a bowl from China with cactus in it - not from missionaries, from the U.S.'s imports to keep China happy and U.S. labor costs down.

So that's some of my junk. Who will want it when I die? Probably no one, so why don't I just trash it all and relieve the efforts of occasionaly caring for it and finding the space for it. I dunno.