PreacherMike

Along the way we decided we didn’t need all this space – a house big enough for four rowdy kids and six and a half acres to mow. We began the plan. Moving toward a “patio home” or some such arrangement, I began to dig out.

Now, first, you have to realize we moved here in the ‘70s. Secondly, I inherited some of my mother’s habits of “squirreling” things away. It is sufficient to say there is beaucoup stuff to deal with – and that’s putting it mildly.

First, I attacked the books. Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to read them all again. I self-righteously closed my eyes and began to toss books into boxes for the Crowder Friends of the Library Book Sale. Ten boxes full – what a good start!

Then I came back to rearrange the bookshelves – and could not even tell ten boxes of books were missing. This might have been my first clue that I was in real trouble here.

I moved on to the linen closet. I threw away seven scraggly towels and two sets of king-sized sheets, since we have only queen-sized beds now.

The kitchen was not so bad, as we had remodeled it a couple of years ago. When I cleaned out all the cabinets and drawers then, I vowed it was NOT all going back into the new cabinets. My shelves are pleasantly full but there is no room for more “stuff.” In other words, a smaller kitchen might be a problem. I just don’t know what to do with my grandmother’s kraut-cutter, Nanny’s wooden bowl and nut-cutter, or the 13 pie pans – different sizes and styles for different recipes, none of which I make any more.

I did get rid of the three sizes of cheese cake spring pans. Frankly, I hadn’t made cheese cake since Sam’s Club came out with a to-die-for New York style one that satisfies all the “gourmet” eaters in our family. The pans did not, however, take up that much room. They stacked well and fit on top of the 13 pie pans.

I eliminated from the basement two trash bags of “dress-ups,” most of which I can remember our own daughters using back in the 70s for their make-believes and for cat funerals (black dresses and hats).

Then I packed up the Beatrix Potter figurines and books that were my mother’s. There must have been 50 of them. My niece took them when Mother died and got tired of dusting them. She was going to sell them, so I just bought them myself. Now, 10 years later, my niece, now a teacher with a master’s degree and her own home, was becoming a little nostalgic in her decorating. I sent them to her with the words, “They’re yours. I do not want them back.”

My daughter-in-law said, “You haven’t really downsized yet. Believe me, I have done it and you’re not getting close until you get to the point where it hurts.” Well, it had hurt a little but not much.

One day recently, the Runner and I were sitting in the kitchen having a second cup of coffee. We looked down over the neighbor’s hill to the pond. We watched the mama and daddy goose bring their little goslings out for their morning swim.

The Runner said, “I guess they wouldn’t have a view like this at a patio home, would they?”

That was our last discussion of “downsizing.”

I did tell the kids, “Someday, babes, this will all be yours. Enjoy!”

Cheers – I get to keep my Norton Simon Museum post, my Laurel and Hardy figures and the 87 photo albums.