Today I resorted the things in my room. The main goal was to consolodate everything that I still need to sort or value and then get rid of into one set of shelves. Not the pictures still to be sorted. Those are separate. This is stuff that I still haven't convinced myself I couldn't get a few dollars for, and letters that I haven't read.
I may be keeping more than is sensible, but the pile gets smaller every time I sort through it. Right now I'm sorting through old 45 rpm records.
Dad's: Begin the Beguine, The Shifting, Whispering Sands, Deep Purple (Bing Crosby), My Happiness, To Each His Own, What Is A Girl?/What Is A Boy? (Jackie Gleason), Cold, Cold Heart (x3), Daddy's Little Girl, Riders in the Sky (x2), Tennessee Waltz, The Glow Worm, Tumbling Tumbleweeds, Your Cheatin' Heart, You Always Hurt the One You Love, Born to Lose, Mockin' Bird Hill, The Wayward Wind, Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, and It's Been a Long, Long Time.
Mine: Rainbow Connection, Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White, and Blowin' In the Wind/Puff the Magic Dragon.
Unknown: Chasing A Dream, Blueberry Hill, I'll Take Care of Your Cares/Ballerina, Song of the Islands, Over the Rainbow/You Made Me Love You, Till We Meet Again, Anytime, Hopelessly Devoted to You, and a box set of La Traviata, on clear red discs.
Dad had a preference for LPs, so some of these may have been records that I bought cheap to remind me of him, or that I inherited from somewhere else and kept because they were songs he played and songs he sang us to bed with.
I may keep the red ones for awhile, but the others are going. Also going is a box of LP albums, album sets, and 78 records that were definitely his. His name was on most of them. Two were in the cardboard box they had been mailed to him in. I'm glad I went through the box even though I didn't keep any of the records in the end. There was also a photo album that he had kept in high school. There were enough pictures of other kids to show that he had friends. But most of the pages were filled with pictures of planes.
He was always interested in WWII planes. Some were post cards. Some were the size of, and had backs like, playing cards. Some were smaller photos. I'm going to mail them to Beloved Son, because he's shown interest in Dad's army time and his army time wouldn't have happened without this prior interest. If BS wants to throw them out after looking at them, that's fine.
I did my due dilligence. I looked online, checking on the 78's. The best advice there is that if it was a popular song, it isn't worth the bother of trying to sell. Early jazz and pre-WWII country, western, or hillbilly might be worth something, but Bing Crosby won't be.
Give me a sec. There are at least four albums of 78's in the Going Away Shelves. Some titles I'm not familiar with. Probably not Dad's. "That Mink On Her Back (Brought the Wolf to My Door)." One of them is a picture disc with Cowboys and cows. I may check on a value for that one. It has fine scratches, but may not have skips. Probably a lost cause, but out of nearly two boxes worth, checking on one or two won't hurt me.
So "Out Where the West Winds Blow" is number one of two to be checked. Number two is "The Voice of . . . Barry Goldwater." It's his acceptance speech from his nomination for president. I had no idea that those were pressed into LP's.
There's about a box full of LP's left, and those were probably mine. These were the ones I was feeling guilty about, though, so those will be easy to go through. The culls are by the front door, ready to be taken to the van. With them are my old speakers and tape/CD player. Getting those out of my bedroom is freeing up significant floor space. I'm going to enjoy it. I'll let you know if I can get big bucks for Barry.
Oh, my. I just took it out to see if it had been played much. It hasn't been. And it's an eye-catching transparent bright yellow. A gold LP for Goldwater. Nice.
Showing posts with label thrift store. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thrift store. Show all posts
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Friday, September 6, 2013
I Have Become Accustomed to Taking Loads to the Thrift Store
I think I posted, once before, about donating things to the thrift store and not posting it here, because I had done it enough that it had started to just feel normal instead of feeling like a little victory. Well, I don't know how many times I've taken things there without posting them here. I'm trying to remember - I think the last batch went three days ago, and it was a fairly big batch that had to be dealt with in stages.
Let's touch the guilt. There's a little voice squeaking away that's implying that I didn't post about it, not because it seems normal, now, but because I've been lazy about posting. No. That's not appropriate. Not for here. The rule for this blog is that it's here to help me, not to give me one more chore to do. If I don't feel like posting, I won't post. That's not being lazy, that's using the blog the way I planned to use it.
Too bad, little voice. You lose.
But let me think for a minute about what it took to make this last donation. Usually, a donation means I've sorted through a box or drawer or shelf and pulled out things no longer needed. They stay in a box or on a shelf near the front door until there are enough things to take to the van. If there's enough right after the sort, they're supposed to go to the van the next time I go out the door.
I allow things to stay in the van for up to a week before I allow myself to feel guilty about it. It saves gas if I drop off a donation while I'm driving nearby on another errand, so I tell myself I'm doing that. Occasionally I'll make a single run right away, but that's only if I feel like giving myself a little boost of accomplishment.
This load was in the van for two or three days. Not bad. But before that, some of it was sitting in the back yard. Why was that? Because two or three weekends ago, I sorted through all of the things in the room off of the garage. The little voice isn't even trying to make me feel guilty about not having posted about that. Do you know why? Because I completely sorted the room off the garage, which was an annoying mess, and however I may have dropped the ball afterwards, it was a big thing and doing a big thing is not lazy.
I know what's out there, now, and which plastic bins have which things in them. Most of it isn't mine, but I still sorted it. I convinced someone else to part with three or four boxes worth of stuff. That's a major thing for me. I have a real reluctance to poke at other people.
Half of it was tossed and half of it was set aside for donation. There were also nearly a dozen cardboard boxes liberated, more than the recycling bin could hold. Next week should see the last of them gone. And some odd-shaped plastic bins were released to donation.
There wasn't much of my stuff in there, but I decided to donate two old sewing machines that belonged to relatives, and probably tossed a few things. It's been long enough that the details are fading. The sewing machines were a big thing to let go of. There's at least one relative who would be unhappy to think that they were no longer "in the family".
So there was a pile of cardboard boxes and plastic donatables in the back yard for a couple of weeks. I can remember when things were put into the back yard temporarily and then stayed there for months. I'm a bit pleased that this particular set started to gall me by the next weekend and that I actually got them gone within two or three weeks because of that.
Another bright spot is that when it was obvious that I wasn't loading up whenever I noticed the stack and felt annoyed with it because I didn't want to do all that heavy lifting, I asked for help loading. Got it, too. With no complaints. I need to do that more often.
So there was a donation load delivered to the thrift store a few days ago. And it was the result of me asking for help. I asked for help because I was staying on top of no letting things just sit in the back yard. And the stuff was sitting in the back yard because I HAD TOTALLY CLEARED, SORTED, AND ORGANIZED THE ROOM OFF OF THE GARAGE!
OK. Now I can see that part of the reason the little voice was telling me that I was lazy with posting, here, is that it knew that I needed to acknowledge, not the load to the thrift store, but the bigger accomplishment behind it. Cool. Not bad, little voice.
And the trash and recycling got picked up yesterday, so if I go out back now and bin the last of the cardboard boxes, the adventure of the Great Sorting will be complete. I probably ought to get dressed first. Now would be good. (waves)
Let's touch the guilt. There's a little voice squeaking away that's implying that I didn't post about it, not because it seems normal, now, but because I've been lazy about posting. No. That's not appropriate. Not for here. The rule for this blog is that it's here to help me, not to give me one more chore to do. If I don't feel like posting, I won't post. That's not being lazy, that's using the blog the way I planned to use it.
Too bad, little voice. You lose.
But let me think for a minute about what it took to make this last donation. Usually, a donation means I've sorted through a box or drawer or shelf and pulled out things no longer needed. They stay in a box or on a shelf near the front door until there are enough things to take to the van. If there's enough right after the sort, they're supposed to go to the van the next time I go out the door.
I allow things to stay in the van for up to a week before I allow myself to feel guilty about it. It saves gas if I drop off a donation while I'm driving nearby on another errand, so I tell myself I'm doing that. Occasionally I'll make a single run right away, but that's only if I feel like giving myself a little boost of accomplishment.
This load was in the van for two or three days. Not bad. But before that, some of it was sitting in the back yard. Why was that? Because two or three weekends ago, I sorted through all of the things in the room off of the garage. The little voice isn't even trying to make me feel guilty about not having posted about that. Do you know why? Because I completely sorted the room off the garage, which was an annoying mess, and however I may have dropped the ball afterwards, it was a big thing and doing a big thing is not lazy.
I know what's out there, now, and which plastic bins have which things in them. Most of it isn't mine, but I still sorted it. I convinced someone else to part with three or four boxes worth of stuff. That's a major thing for me. I have a real reluctance to poke at other people.
Half of it was tossed and half of it was set aside for donation. There were also nearly a dozen cardboard boxes liberated, more than the recycling bin could hold. Next week should see the last of them gone. And some odd-shaped plastic bins were released to donation.
There wasn't much of my stuff in there, but I decided to donate two old sewing machines that belonged to relatives, and probably tossed a few things. It's been long enough that the details are fading. The sewing machines were a big thing to let go of. There's at least one relative who would be unhappy to think that they were no longer "in the family".
So there was a pile of cardboard boxes and plastic donatables in the back yard for a couple of weeks. I can remember when things were put into the back yard temporarily and then stayed there for months. I'm a bit pleased that this particular set started to gall me by the next weekend and that I actually got them gone within two or three weeks because of that.
Another bright spot is that when it was obvious that I wasn't loading up whenever I noticed the stack and felt annoyed with it because I didn't want to do all that heavy lifting, I asked for help loading. Got it, too. With no complaints. I need to do that more often.
So there was a donation load delivered to the thrift store a few days ago. And it was the result of me asking for help. I asked for help because I was staying on top of no letting things just sit in the back yard. And the stuff was sitting in the back yard because I HAD TOTALLY CLEARED, SORTED, AND ORGANIZED THE ROOM OFF OF THE GARAGE!
OK. Now I can see that part of the reason the little voice was telling me that I was lazy with posting, here, is that it knew that I needed to acknowledge, not the load to the thrift store, but the bigger accomplishment behind it. Cool. Not bad, little voice.
And the trash and recycling got picked up yesterday, so if I go out back now and bin the last of the cardboard boxes, the adventure of the Great Sorting will be complete. I probably ought to get dressed first. Now would be good. (waves)
Sunday, April 28, 2013
More things tossed at the end of April
I've been tossing more things and taking more things to the thrift shop. I just hope I'm getting rid of more than is coming in. I've parted with more than a few books. That's starting to feel normal. What doesn't feel normal is that I've collected all of the books that I haven't read, or haven't finished reading, and they make a full shelf. That's five feet of books, if you were curious about the size of the shelf.
The odd thing is that I used to be a reading maniac. Very few readable things entered the house without be getting lost in them. I'd say that means I ought to stop buying them, but if giving myself permission to buy them and set them to the side gives me more time to do other things that need to be done, I'm going to take that extra time.
It's not my book release that made this family heirloom thrift shop bait. This one was being used to hold cook books in the kitchen. My son organized the kitchen counters and declared that we had too many cook books and that we were only going to keep as many as would fit in a much smaller shelf, which he supplied.
To my credit, I only tagged one cook book as a definite keeper and two others as possibles, if other folks found them usefull, too. I also moved all of my medieval cook books to the shelves in my bedroom. But my son gets credit for the main cook book reduction and for freeing this old thing.
It's made of cheap wood and was originally stained dark brown. But the stain eventually faded in places and the finish started to peel off. So it became part of my furniture painting project.
You see, at the time most of my furniture was second hand and did not match in any way. Some of it was things I was only keeping because they had come from relatives. I painted them all light grey with purple trim. This piece didn't have any obvious trim, so it ended up completely grey. The project furniture has been replaced over the years. This may be the last one.
No, there's a two drawer nightstand in my bedroom that's still useful. It's still sturdy, too, so it's probably going to be around for awhile. If I ever coordinate things in the bedroom, it can be repainted.
The important thing is that there's more room on the kitchen counter and that I'm not trying to find a way to keep using an inconvenient piece of furniture just because I'd feel a bit guilty letting it go.
I release you to the world, little grey shelves.
The odd thing is that I used to be a reading maniac. Very few readable things entered the house without be getting lost in them. I'd say that means I ought to stop buying them, but if giving myself permission to buy them and set them to the side gives me more time to do other things that need to be done, I'm going to take that extra time.
To my credit, I only tagged one cook book as a definite keeper and two others as possibles, if other folks found them usefull, too. I also moved all of my medieval cook books to the shelves in my bedroom. But my son gets credit for the main cook book reduction and for freeing this old thing.
It's made of cheap wood and was originally stained dark brown. But the stain eventually faded in places and the finish started to peel off. So it became part of my furniture painting project.
You see, at the time most of my furniture was second hand and did not match in any way. Some of it was things I was only keeping because they had come from relatives. I painted them all light grey with purple trim. This piece didn't have any obvious trim, so it ended up completely grey. The project furniture has been replaced over the years. This may be the last one.
No, there's a two drawer nightstand in my bedroom that's still useful. It's still sturdy, too, so it's probably going to be around for awhile. If I ever coordinate things in the bedroom, it can be repainted.
The important thing is that there's more room on the kitchen counter and that I'm not trying to find a way to keep using an inconvenient piece of furniture just because I'd feel a bit guilty letting it go.
I release you to the world, little grey shelves.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
This Was a Hard One
These two CDs were hard to send to the thrift store. My Aunt D was diagnosed with endometrial cancer close to five years ago. She died about half a year later. She took her best shot at ignoring it and put off dealing with it until it segued into a 911 crisis, emergency surgery, and weeks in intensive care.
After that there was a skilled nursing facility where she fought any kind of recovery because physical therapy hurt and nothing that hurt could possibly be good for you. Those people just wanted to torture her. And it's possible that the cancer was far enough along that getting up and around wouldn't have prolonged things much. But she was also obviously looking forward to laying in bed with people to ring for.
Once everyone concerned was convinced that she wasn't going to get well enough to go home in the regular way (she would never be strong enough to stand, let alone go to the bathroom, even with help), we arranged for hospice care in her home. I think she was kind of surprised that laying still in bed 24 hours a day for weeks didn't start feeling comfortable.
I don't know if she ever realized that we had been trying to forestall the final slide.
After that there was a skilled nursing facility where she fought any kind of recovery because physical therapy hurt and nothing that hurt could possibly be good for you. Those people just wanted to torture her. And it's possible that the cancer was far enough along that getting up and around wouldn't have prolonged things much. But she was also obviously looking forward to laying in bed with people to ring for.
Once everyone concerned was convinced that she wasn't going to get well enough to go home in the regular way (she would never be strong enough to stand, let alone go to the bathroom, even with help), we arranged for hospice care in her home. I think she was kind of surprised that laying still in bed 24 hours a day for weeks didn't start feeling comfortable.
I don't know if she ever realized that we had been trying to forestall the final slide.
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