Again, I write about a woman whose blood flows through my veins. This time it is my maternal Great-Grandmother. She was born in Nantucket, Mass., the daughter of Henry Fisher and Maria Chase. She met Clinton Rackett, who was a fisherman from East Marion, Long Island, and moved to that little community in New York state.
I think of what it must have been like to move away from all she knew, to begin a brand new life as a young wife in a new area. There must have been a strong resolve and an even stronger love for the man, to leave everything behind. East Marion might have felt somewhat familiar to her, since both Nantucket and Long Island are surrounded by water, and in those days, many of the men worked the sea as a way of life. The air in both places would have smelled salty, and weather conditions would have been somewhat similar as well.
There are photos that show the home that was built by GrGrandpa Rackett, for his family. I'm not sure when it was built, but it stood fairly early in their marriage. It stood close to the Community church, but across the street on the Main Road. It was taken down many years later, but I never had the chance to see the building. I'm told that GrGramma Rackett kept an immaculate house and yard. Even the outhouse had starched and ironed white curtains hanging in the window! There was a garden, a cherry tree, a picket fenced yard. My Grandmother was married there, in the garden.
Not only was GrGrandmother a woman who took good care of her home and four children, she was also a good business woman, I'm told. Her husband died in the early 1900's, leaving her alone to raise the youngest child, my Grandmother. She took on the his fishing fleet business, keeping it running in fine order. How these female old timers got all the household chores done and ran businesses to support the families, is beyond me.
I was a working woman, but my housekeeping was none too good. I gave up my baking, except for an occasional batch of cookies. I had to let some things go and organize other things when I went to work. But, the women of old couldn't do that. Baking, sewing, laundry, mending, gardening, cooking, canning, cleaning (including beating room sized rugs!), etc. could not be not be overlooked. They didn't have take-out food or frozen, pre-made meals to pop in the oven. They had to do that work. Taking on the bookkeeping, records, payroll and other matters relating to running a fishing fleet was a time consuming endeavor. I don't know how she did it.
GrGrandma's obituary tauts her as a 'pillar of the church'. I know she was a woman of faith, but apparently she was quite involved in the women's ministries of the time. I'm sure that involved meeting the needs of other women, widows and orphans. Besides muscle and determination, she apparently was blessed with a compassionate heart. Perhaps it was her faith that gave her the strength she needed to keep going and to accomplish all that she did.
Our ancestors were not wimps. They were hard workers. They knew there was nobody to do the work but themselves, and they did what was necessary. We could learn much from these family members. They were pretty good examples.
Sometimes it pays to look back so that we know how to move forward.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
'Don't Air Your Dirty Laundry'
How many of us have heard that line in our lives? It seemed to be the mantra of those who went before us. Today's generations seem to live their lives without any thought of what others think, but there was a sense of shame in our elders. They were telling us to have a conscience about our mistakes and to keep them covered so that people would look upon us as 'decent' adults.
A friend and I were discussing that very thing this morning. We're both investigating our families histories and we got to talking about 'skeletons in the closet' that have been discovered. He wants to share them, but not for three or four generations, when those who did the deeds are long dead and buried, and relatively unknown. I don't know how he'd go about hiding things that long, should he write the tales.
Things are often so well-hidden that we never stumble across them. Not so in another friend's life. He recently visited a cousin in another state. He and his cousin were discussing their individual searches of their ancestries, when the cousin laid out a huge family tree. He pointed to a name and said, "See that guy? That's your brother." After some discussion, it turned out that the named brother had been born some years before my friend had, and had been surrendered to an aunt and uncle of the mother to be raised. The mother went on to live her life, marrying and having other children, never mentioning that there was another family member! Can you imagine my friend's shock ?! At sixty years old, he had an older brother he knew nothing about! He has since contacted the man, and the two plan to meet in the coming months.
I'm not sure what the reasons were for hiding that sort of information. In many ways, I feel that it isn't fair to siblings to be denied the chance to know and love those born of another father or mother. My own husband was denied the opportunity to know his own father, due to a nasty divorce when my husband was a toddler. An entire family was eradicated from my husband's life! There was something within Mike's mother that felt her son should not know there was a living being on his paternal side. She would not speak of any of them right up until she died. She'd have been horrified to know that, as I dug for information on his ancestors, I discovered that Mike's great-grandfather was alive and living in Casper, Wyoming up until Mike was fifteen years old. His grandparents both died in 1965, as did Mike's Dad. Though he'd spent very limited time with his father during his up-bringing, he'd never really gotten to know him. That caused Mike to 'idolize' his Dad. He didn't get to meet his grandparents, though, or the half-brother who also died in the 1960's in a car accident.
They say that you don't miss what you never knew. Seeing my husband's responses to each of my discoveries of his 'lost' relatives, I can't agree with that statement. But, for whatever reason, his Mom thought it best to keep them all a secret.
I suppose there are things that people would want to keep hidden away, and if I should stumble across anything in our family, I will honor those words not to 'air the dirty laundry.' However, the long and short of it is, things happen. People you are related to, are still related to you, even if they've done something horrible. It can't be changed or erased, but if families want to hide it, it's important to them for us to keep it buried, at least until enough time has passed so that the person is 'just a name' to those who discover the secrets of the past.
A friend and I were discussing that very thing this morning. We're both investigating our families histories and we got to talking about 'skeletons in the closet' that have been discovered. He wants to share them, but not for three or four generations, when those who did the deeds are long dead and buried, and relatively unknown. I don't know how he'd go about hiding things that long, should he write the tales.
Things are often so well-hidden that we never stumble across them. Not so in another friend's life. He recently visited a cousin in another state. He and his cousin were discussing their individual searches of their ancestries, when the cousin laid out a huge family tree. He pointed to a name and said, "See that guy? That's your brother." After some discussion, it turned out that the named brother had been born some years before my friend had, and had been surrendered to an aunt and uncle of the mother to be raised. The mother went on to live her life, marrying and having other children, never mentioning that there was another family member! Can you imagine my friend's shock ?! At sixty years old, he had an older brother he knew nothing about! He has since contacted the man, and the two plan to meet in the coming months.
I'm not sure what the reasons were for hiding that sort of information. In many ways, I feel that it isn't fair to siblings to be denied the chance to know and love those born of another father or mother. My own husband was denied the opportunity to know his own father, due to a nasty divorce when my husband was a toddler. An entire family was eradicated from my husband's life! There was something within Mike's mother that felt her son should not know there was a living being on his paternal side. She would not speak of any of them right up until she died. She'd have been horrified to know that, as I dug for information on his ancestors, I discovered that Mike's great-grandfather was alive and living in Casper, Wyoming up until Mike was fifteen years old. His grandparents both died in 1965, as did Mike's Dad. Though he'd spent very limited time with his father during his up-bringing, he'd never really gotten to know him. That caused Mike to 'idolize' his Dad. He didn't get to meet his grandparents, though, or the half-brother who also died in the 1960's in a car accident.
They say that you don't miss what you never knew. Seeing my husband's responses to each of my discoveries of his 'lost' relatives, I can't agree with that statement. But, for whatever reason, his Mom thought it best to keep them all a secret.
I suppose there are things that people would want to keep hidden away, and if I should stumble across anything in our family, I will honor those words not to 'air the dirty laundry.' However, the long and short of it is, things happen. People you are related to, are still related to you, even if they've done something horrible. It can't be changed or erased, but if families want to hide it, it's important to them for us to keep it buried, at least until enough time has passed so that the person is 'just a name' to those who discover the secrets of the past.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Great Grandmother Case
There is so little that I know about her. She was born in 1860 and passed away in 1947, a few months before I was born. I have two photos of her, though, and a small glimpse into her life come to me via various relatives.
One picture shows her as a young woman, with a serious expression dressed in a dark frock, surrounded by nine of her gaggle of eleven children . I look at her, and think she must have been of strong stock, though she looks thin and small. She left her hometown of Newport, RI and moved to New York state, to a small island off the eastern end of Long Island. How did she meet the Shelter Island man she married and who lived with there? How did it come to be? If he had been a mariner, I would imagine that he'd gone to the R.I. port, and they'd met there, in some way. But no, he was a carpenter, and so far as I know, was not a traveler. How then, I wonder, did she make her way to Shelter Island?
As frail as she may appear in the photograph, she managed to give birth to all those children in a few years. That alone, in her day, was no small feat. Many things might occur in a natural act of child bearing, and medical methods were no where near as advanced at that time as they are these days. She achieved the goal of safely bringing forth her brood. But that was only the beginning of her work. As any mother knows, it's not an easy task to raise even one child to adulthood. I can only imagine what her life was like.
Think of the laundry ! There were no machines to help her as she kept her family in clean clothes. She would have had to lug the hot water to the wash tub and then scrub each item on a wooden washboard, probably rubbing her knuckles raw at times. She'd have to wring out each item after rinsing a few times, and hang it to dry from a rope line in the yard. There would be the folding and putting away, and I'm sure, some ironing as well. That might have required the heating of a sad iron on her wood cook stove, being careful not to burn herself. I wonder what her hands looked like after strong soaps (perhaps she even made her own lye soap), washboards, scalding water, and possible burns from cast iron stoves, irons, and the pots she cooked the food in. Not only did she have to wash the clothes for the large family, she had to mend them and make them all, probably on a treadle sewing machine.
I know, from stories told by my great-aunt, that GreatGrandma was, indeed, a hearty woman. Her husband, Willard, had met an untimely death in 1903 when he fell from a roof, landing first on a scaffolding, and then falling to the ground, breaking his neck or back. Many of the Case youngsters at home, and they had to be cared for and fed. Great Grandmother opened a boarding house in the large farmhouse where my grandmother was born. I'm told that there were some nights where thirteen or fourteen people sat at their table, served a hefty meal by Great Grandma. Did she raise the food in the acreage behind the barns?
It is my guess that she did. She would not have had the funds to purchase the vegetables and meat to feed such a crowd. I can assume that she and her sons ...and maybe the girls,too, worked in the garden in the summer...and at harvest-time, they gathered their crops. Then mother and daughters would gather in the large kitchen to prepare the peas, string beans, corn, and other vegetables for canning. That would require hours on her feet, in front of a hot stove, cooking the vegetables, placing things in the mason jars,closing them, boiling the products in the jars in big kettles, until they safely sealed. When they'd cooled, they'd be set in the pantry for use until the next garden was ready to eat.
Think of the work involved in just one day! Without a husband to instruct her sons, she would have had to instill all the things they would need to know as adults. She would have had to teach her girls the skills involved in homemaking.
Because I know so little of truth about Great Grandmother, I have had to guess about a lot of things. The mid-1800's was not an easy time for most women, and my Great Grandmother was not living a life much different from others of her day. When I think about her, and all those other women, I feel admiration. If there was a need, they met it. They didn't have the choice. I don't imagine they complained about the tasks at hand, either. They just did what needed to be done. Perhaps they bartered with others. Perhaps they sold their eggs, or their seamstress abilities, in order to buy what they could not do. Or perhaps they just did without.
Whatever is the actual story of my Great Grandma Case, she survived it all, living as a single mother for forty-four years. She became the old woman with gray hair, in that photo, who sits in her rocking chair on the porch. She was proof that a little hard work never hurt anybody.
One picture shows her as a young woman, with a serious expression dressed in a dark frock, surrounded by nine of her gaggle of eleven children . I look at her, and think she must have been of strong stock, though she looks thin and small. She left her hometown of Newport, RI and moved to New York state, to a small island off the eastern end of Long Island. How did she meet the Shelter Island man she married and who lived with there? How did it come to be? If he had been a mariner, I would imagine that he'd gone to the R.I. port, and they'd met there, in some way. But no, he was a carpenter, and so far as I know, was not a traveler. How then, I wonder, did she make her way to Shelter Island?
As frail as she may appear in the photograph, she managed to give birth to all those children in a few years. That alone, in her day, was no small feat. Many things might occur in a natural act of child bearing, and medical methods were no where near as advanced at that time as they are these days. She achieved the goal of safely bringing forth her brood. But that was only the beginning of her work. As any mother knows, it's not an easy task to raise even one child to adulthood. I can only imagine what her life was like.
Think of the laundry ! There were no machines to help her as she kept her family in clean clothes. She would have had to lug the hot water to the wash tub and then scrub each item on a wooden washboard, probably rubbing her knuckles raw at times. She'd have to wring out each item after rinsing a few times, and hang it to dry from a rope line in the yard. There would be the folding and putting away, and I'm sure, some ironing as well. That might have required the heating of a sad iron on her wood cook stove, being careful not to burn herself. I wonder what her hands looked like after strong soaps (perhaps she even made her own lye soap), washboards, scalding water, and possible burns from cast iron stoves, irons, and the pots she cooked the food in. Not only did she have to wash the clothes for the large family, she had to mend them and make them all, probably on a treadle sewing machine.
I know, from stories told by my great-aunt, that GreatGrandma was, indeed, a hearty woman. Her husband, Willard, had met an untimely death in 1903 when he fell from a roof, landing first on a scaffolding, and then falling to the ground, breaking his neck or back. Many of the Case youngsters at home, and they had to be cared for and fed. Great Grandmother opened a boarding house in the large farmhouse where my grandmother was born. I'm told that there were some nights where thirteen or fourteen people sat at their table, served a hefty meal by Great Grandma. Did she raise the food in the acreage behind the barns?
It is my guess that she did. She would not have had the funds to purchase the vegetables and meat to feed such a crowd. I can assume that she and her sons ...and maybe the girls,too, worked in the garden in the summer...and at harvest-time, they gathered their crops. Then mother and daughters would gather in the large kitchen to prepare the peas, string beans, corn, and other vegetables for canning. That would require hours on her feet, in front of a hot stove, cooking the vegetables, placing things in the mason jars,closing them, boiling the products in the jars in big kettles, until they safely sealed. When they'd cooled, they'd be set in the pantry for use until the next garden was ready to eat.
Think of the work involved in just one day! Without a husband to instruct her sons, she would have had to instill all the things they would need to know as adults. She would have had to teach her girls the skills involved in homemaking.
Because I know so little of truth about Great Grandmother, I have had to guess about a lot of things. The mid-1800's was not an easy time for most women, and my Great Grandmother was not living a life much different from others of her day. When I think about her, and all those other women, I feel admiration. If there was a need, they met it. They didn't have the choice. I don't imagine they complained about the tasks at hand, either. They just did what needed to be done. Perhaps they bartered with others. Perhaps they sold their eggs, or their seamstress abilities, in order to buy what they could not do. Or perhaps they just did without.
Whatever is the actual story of my Great Grandma Case, she survived it all, living as a single mother for forty-four years. She became the old woman with gray hair, in that photo, who sits in her rocking chair on the porch. She was proof that a little hard work never hurt anybody.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Who Were They?
One of my friends writes a daily blog, and sometimes she hits so close to home that I need to write my thoughts on her subject. Today her wondering was about who her ancestors were and what were they thinking when the photos were taken.
She was so right! I don't know how many times I've looked at those old sepia or black and white photos and wondered just what was going on in those lives at the time the photos were taken. There are some stories that swim through my mind, perhaps not exactly the same as I'd heard them originally, and some that are lost for all eternity because the teller is gone, and I didn't listen well enough at the time to retain it. My grandfather was the best at telling family stories, and unfortunately, in my young years, I thought to myself, "I already heard that story" and I shut off my hearing. Now, at my age, I understand that it was important for him to tell those events. He needed to remember them, and he wanted me to know those folks he spoke of. It's too late now....and it saddens me.
My mother, as sharp as she is on a lot of things, has faded memories when I ask of things. However, if I just start a subject and let her ramble, often I'll get a new clue to something that went on in her youth.
Her mother, who passed away when I was expecting my second child, probably had a million thoughts and stories of her East Marion,NY family. Unfortunately, she'd had a series of small strokes for years, and it affected her speech. She was a quiet woman, anyway, but after the strokes, she often would say the wrong words, and she knew it. It frustrated her, so she tended to become even quieter.
Her father owned a fishing fleet, passed away when Gram was about ten years old, and her mother then took over the running of the business. Later, Gram's brother ran it...into the ground, from what I heard from another relative. Those are things I want to know details of. I want to know if the picture I have of my young grandparents is a wedding picture...it seems that it might be, but Mom doesn't think so, 'because that's not Gramma's wedding dress.' I want to know about the wedding, which was held in the garden. I want to see her dress, but it's gone 'where moth and dust hath corrupt.' I want to know who those ladies were, in the tremendous hats, sitting with Gramma and eating Nabisco shortbread cookies. (I can see the label on the box in the photo!)
I want to know so much. I was able to tape a 90 yr old sister of my paternal grandmother shortly before she passed away. She was as sharp as a tack and her sense of humor hadn't waned one iota. She was a Shelter Island girl, and had been raised by a mother who hailed from Newport, RI. She carried some of that New England accent in her voice, and was such fun to listen to. She told of my grandfather, 'Ahtha' (Arthur) when he 'courted' Maud. He'd hide his 'courtin' duds' in the bushes, and 'afta werk, he'd go inta the woods 'n change outta the werk clothes and inta the courtin' clothes.' They'd sit on the front 'pahtch' 'n Ahtha would sing in his beautiful singin' voice.' I'm blessed to have that tape.
I also went to visit an old cousin of my father's over on the Island. He was known as Shelter Island's historian. He was a character, to be sure! He told me a few tales...some I suspect were pretty 'tall' ones! Eben had a way of embellishing to make the story interesting. I've yet to know if there's any truth to the story that my GrGr Grandfather Case truly did hang himself in the back shed... or if his wife really was so mad at him for doing so that she buried him in his 'every day wig instead of his red Sunday one.' (that story is published in a book about the Island, with Eben's name attached to the telling of it.)
The loss of our history has been a lesson to me. This blog has many offerings of family tales, and I'm hoping to add more, so that my children and theirs will know something of their forefathers and mothers. I need to keep going...they just may want to know one day, when they've turned on their hearing ears again.
She was so right! I don't know how many times I've looked at those old sepia or black and white photos and wondered just what was going on in those lives at the time the photos were taken. There are some stories that swim through my mind, perhaps not exactly the same as I'd heard them originally, and some that are lost for all eternity because the teller is gone, and I didn't listen well enough at the time to retain it. My grandfather was the best at telling family stories, and unfortunately, in my young years, I thought to myself, "I already heard that story" and I shut off my hearing. Now, at my age, I understand that it was important for him to tell those events. He needed to remember them, and he wanted me to know those folks he spoke of. It's too late now....and it saddens me.
My mother, as sharp as she is on a lot of things, has faded memories when I ask of things. However, if I just start a subject and let her ramble, often I'll get a new clue to something that went on in her youth.
Her mother, who passed away when I was expecting my second child, probably had a million thoughts and stories of her East Marion,NY family. Unfortunately, she'd had a series of small strokes for years, and it affected her speech. She was a quiet woman, anyway, but after the strokes, she often would say the wrong words, and she knew it. It frustrated her, so she tended to become even quieter.
Her father owned a fishing fleet, passed away when Gram was about ten years old, and her mother then took over the running of the business. Later, Gram's brother ran it...into the ground, from what I heard from another relative. Those are things I want to know details of. I want to know if the picture I have of my young grandparents is a wedding picture...it seems that it might be, but Mom doesn't think so, 'because that's not Gramma's wedding dress.' I want to know about the wedding, which was held in the garden. I want to see her dress, but it's gone 'where moth and dust hath corrupt.' I want to know who those ladies were, in the tremendous hats, sitting with Gramma and eating Nabisco shortbread cookies. (I can see the label on the box in the photo!)
I want to know so much. I was able to tape a 90 yr old sister of my paternal grandmother shortly before she passed away. She was as sharp as a tack and her sense of humor hadn't waned one iota. She was a Shelter Island girl, and had been raised by a mother who hailed from Newport, RI. She carried some of that New England accent in her voice, and was such fun to listen to. She told of my grandfather, 'Ahtha' (Arthur) when he 'courted' Maud. He'd hide his 'courtin' duds' in the bushes, and 'afta werk, he'd go inta the woods 'n change outta the werk clothes and inta the courtin' clothes.' They'd sit on the front 'pahtch' 'n Ahtha would sing in his beautiful singin' voice.' I'm blessed to have that tape.
I also went to visit an old cousin of my father's over on the Island. He was known as Shelter Island's historian. He was a character, to be sure! He told me a few tales...some I suspect were pretty 'tall' ones! Eben had a way of embellishing to make the story interesting. I've yet to know if there's any truth to the story that my GrGr Grandfather Case truly did hang himself in the back shed... or if his wife really was so mad at him for doing so that she buried him in his 'every day wig instead of his red Sunday one.' (that story is published in a book about the Island, with Eben's name attached to the telling of it.)
The loss of our history has been a lesson to me. This blog has many offerings of family tales, and I'm hoping to add more, so that my children and theirs will know something of their forefathers and mothers. I need to keep going...they just may want to know one day, when they've turned on their hearing ears again.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Forgive Me?
Gracious...I have no right to complain just because I lose a couple of blog words. Who do I think I am? Forgive me for my brief, however heartfelt, rant this morning?
There are those among my neighbors who are battling life-threatening illness. There are people from church who are suffering with illnesses that render them house-bound or in pain on a 24/7 basis. There are large percentages of people without jobs in our state, and some who are homeless due to losing jobs in cutbacks. Who do I think I am to gripe about something so insignificant as my frustrating computer?
It didn't take me long to adjust my attitude and to realize how fortunate I am in my life. I have health, and my family is healthy too. I have all that I need, and far more than I need in some cases.
I am loved by some and I am liked by others. I live a quiet life in a peaceful place. I have a God who watches over me always and sees me through the difficult times....even computer ailments!
So...this evening, I offer an apology to you, dear readers, and with a grateful heart, I thank God for all that He has brought my way, both good and bad. After all...how would I know good sunny days fell if I didn't have a few rainy ones to compare it to? Thanks be to God...and to all of you who bring me yourselves and your life experiences and your friendship. I wish you all peace and love and thankful hearts, even on the difficult days.
There are those among my neighbors who are battling life-threatening illness. There are people from church who are suffering with illnesses that render them house-bound or in pain on a 24/7 basis. There are large percentages of people without jobs in our state, and some who are homeless due to losing jobs in cutbacks. Who do I think I am to gripe about something so insignificant as my frustrating computer?
It didn't take me long to adjust my attitude and to realize how fortunate I am in my life. I have health, and my family is healthy too. I have all that I need, and far more than I need in some cases.
I am loved by some and I am liked by others. I live a quiet life in a peaceful place. I have a God who watches over me always and sees me through the difficult times....even computer ailments!
So...this evening, I offer an apology to you, dear readers, and with a grateful heart, I thank God for all that He has brought my way, both good and bad. After all...how would I know good sunny days fell if I didn't have a few rainy ones to compare it to? Thanks be to God...and to all of you who bring me yourselves and your life experiences and your friendship. I wish you all peace and love and thankful hearts, even on the difficult days.
Frustrated
This is going to be short and maybe not so sweet..... I was nearly finished with my blog writing this morning, when POOOOF....it went off into who-knows-where. I'm in no mood at this moment to write it all over again. Check back later, and perhaps there will be another posting.
Sorry... it'll just be a rant if I write again right now. See you later...
Sorry... it'll just be a rant if I write again right now. See you later...
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Work Day
Prologue: ARG!!!!! I had nearly finished my blog this morning, when I hit some unknown key on the keyboard, and erased the whole darned thing! GRRRRRR. I'm still getting used to new things on this laptop I bought a few weeks ago, and the 'erase key' is one of those mystery things that I've not conquered yet. Here I go again...let's see how far we get this time.
As I was saying before the text flew off into never-never land, today will be a work day. It's time. My craft room looks as if a bomb went off and definitely needs a clean out and organizing. Since the dawn of my being, I've been a lover of all things termed 'craft materials'. Paper and pens are a real obsession, and since scrapbooking was added to my list of loves, those products have multiplied on the shelves. Not too long ago, one of my favorite local scrapbook stores was closing, and I purchased some shelving to house the cardstock and other papers I own. It will be nice to get those in place and loaded for action.
Then there are the sewing things to get in place. (Here is where I will whisper that I haven't pulled the sewing machine out in years, but I do have plans to, so I don't want to part with all the stuff...just some of it.) That room has a closet, and for some reason, next to it, is another spot....a good, deep, fairly wide space, that would be wonderful for open shelves. That would make the perfect place to stack fabric and sewing supplies. The problem with that is, I can't build them myself, and hubby has so much on the honey-do list that he'll never see the end of it. So, shall I buy some sort of too-shallow unit, or shall I hire our trusty carpenter pal to fill the space with wonderfully efficient, simple, shelves? I guess the first step is to get up there and get to it. I will clean out, get rid of, and then organize the remainder. The shelves can wait 'til later.
My mind has been going a mile a minute all week long. I even made a list of decorating ideas that I want to implement, but the garage needs to be unpacked first. I know there are lots of things that I want to use, and lots that I'll want to get rid of once I start that project. You see, while I was in SC for nearly a year before my husband was, he and our grown kids packed the majority of our stuff. What I had previously packed was done in a rational manner, towels and linens,for instance, and the boxes were marked for ease in unpacking. Conversely, the remainder was packed with no rhyme or reason, so there's no telling what will be found in each carton. It makes the job interesting but more difficult.
Anyway, I'm ready to unload some of this junk. It's just going to take some time. It's too bad that my mind has so much more energy than my body has. There's no way I can keep up with my ideas and projects, but it all begins with the first step, right? I'll leave you now to begin the mammoth project. If I don't return in a few days, call out the canines and the Search and Rescue teams. I'll be buried under a mountain of something.
As I was saying before the text flew off into never-never land, today will be a work day. It's time. My craft room looks as if a bomb went off and definitely needs a clean out and organizing. Since the dawn of my being, I've been a lover of all things termed 'craft materials'. Paper and pens are a real obsession, and since scrapbooking was added to my list of loves, those products have multiplied on the shelves. Not too long ago, one of my favorite local scrapbook stores was closing, and I purchased some shelving to house the cardstock and other papers I own. It will be nice to get those in place and loaded for action.
Then there are the sewing things to get in place. (Here is where I will whisper that I haven't pulled the sewing machine out in years, but I do have plans to, so I don't want to part with all the stuff...just some of it.) That room has a closet, and for some reason, next to it, is another spot....a good, deep, fairly wide space, that would be wonderful for open shelves. That would make the perfect place to stack fabric and sewing supplies. The problem with that is, I can't build them myself, and hubby has so much on the honey-do list that he'll never see the end of it. So, shall I buy some sort of too-shallow unit, or shall I hire our trusty carpenter pal to fill the space with wonderfully efficient, simple, shelves? I guess the first step is to get up there and get to it. I will clean out, get rid of, and then organize the remainder. The shelves can wait 'til later.
My mind has been going a mile a minute all week long. I even made a list of decorating ideas that I want to implement, but the garage needs to be unpacked first. I know there are lots of things that I want to use, and lots that I'll want to get rid of once I start that project. You see, while I was in SC for nearly a year before my husband was, he and our grown kids packed the majority of our stuff. What I had previously packed was done in a rational manner, towels and linens,for instance, and the boxes were marked for ease in unpacking. Conversely, the remainder was packed with no rhyme or reason, so there's no telling what will be found in each carton. It makes the job interesting but more difficult.
Anyway, I'm ready to unload some of this junk. It's just going to take some time. It's too bad that my mind has so much more energy than my body has. There's no way I can keep up with my ideas and projects, but it all begins with the first step, right? I'll leave you now to begin the mammoth project. If I don't return in a few days, call out the canines and the Search and Rescue teams. I'll be buried under a mountain of something.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)