Is Guilt Hereditary?

If you don't remember Mother's financial planner, it's here.

Back From Vacation - Am I Feeling Guilty Yet?

I deplaned Sunday and went back to work yesterday.  Finished reading ADD Friendly Ways to Organize Your Life on the plane.  And only forgot to pack two things:  my bathing suit and something else that I'm forgetting, now.  Neither forgotten thing caused any trouble.  So, on the whole, I'm not feeling very guilty.  Just a little guilty for being a bit behind at work due to the vacation.  The vacation was rejuvinating, though, and no one at work has been put out, so if I think about it, the guilt goes away.

Oh, I could feel guilty about putting the plane ticket on the charge card, but I've had much larger balances in the past and I know that this one won't last long.  Also, I went to bed at a decent hour last night, which ADD FWOYL strongly recommends.  So yay, me. 

I'm trying something from ADD FWOYL called a stubby list.  That's a to do list with from 3 to 5 things on it, each of them meant to be done today.  You write it on a large post-it or, since I don't have those, on a small, portable tablet.  You write the few items in big letters, at least half an inch tall.  You carry it around.  I crossed off two things, yesterday.  Hang on a sec . . .

. . . OK.  That was one more. Might hit the rest before I leave for work this morning.  You never can tell.  And three is enough to make me happy. 

I'm testing some scents from ZOMG Smells.  [BTW, want a cool picture of a trio of Brachiosaurs?]  You can buy a selection of ten testers for not very much and go exploring.  It fits in the guilt blog because there is a scent from my teenhood that intrigued me and that I've never been able to identify or find.  It was the background scent at a shop in Ports O' Call, back in the early seventies.  It was musky and . . . thought provoking.  So I ordered ten of their squees (squee is their name for a tester sample) with a musk in them.  We'll see what happens.

One of my problems with ADD is getting stuck.  Having something that I want to do or need to do, but just not being able to take the next step.  And then having the task age.  And age.  Knocking loose a task from so long ago if very energizing. 

So far I've tried The Chieftain's Wife:  " — the feminine side of pillaging and dominion. Royal jasmine, sandalwood, patchouli, dusty musk."  It's close to the scent I remember in some ways, but it's a lot lighter.  Let's see.  Should I try Wait Until Evening?  "A dark, funky, musky blend of patchouli, myrrh, red ginger, spikenard and blackstrap molasses."  That sounds promising.

Hmm.  Sharper than the target scent.  Definitely interesting, though. 

I think for my next post I'll list the old family things that are hanging.  You know, pictures, letters, home movies, etc.  I was thinking about doing that in this post, but now that I think of it, it's going to take some time and thought.  And some stacking and counting.  So, not this morning. 

If You Love Your Children LABEL YOUR PHOTOS!!!

I Have sorted, scanned, and labeled photos - an indeterminate trickle of them.  I tossed a couple dozen duplicates.  I have also filled in several slots on the family tree from notes on the back.  I enjoyed that.  

In line with the title of this post, I've also found many more photos that are unlabeled and unidentified.  They were added to the folder labeled "Who the Hell Are These People?"  I may have to visit relatives to see if someone else can place a name to some of them.  Oh, the horror! 

And speaking of horror, 

I've decided that this photo went unlabeled due to the enduring shame of a recurrance of toddler cannibalism in the gene line.  The horror, I say!

Quick Check In

We made it back from a wedding and a big road trip.  I only tossed 15 duplicate pictures this morning.  It was a small step forward.  maybe after enough steps . . . 

I need to see how badly things backed up at work while I was out for a week and a half before I relax.  

The Last Two Boxes . . .

     . . . are very densely packed. 


This is going to take awhile.  And it's going to take some research after all the sorting and scanning.  These are the boxes with the really old photos.  The ones that came glued to a cardboard backing, to make them more like paintings. 

I don't feel so bad about unidentified adults.  I figure the burning question, "Who the hell are these people?" will be answered eventually. 

But the unidentified babies may be forever orphaned.  Sigh.



YES! The Last Boxes from Idaho Are Being Sorted!

Recap - -

My mother died near the end of last May.  I live in central California.  She lived in Idaho. I have two sisters.  There was coordinating and travel and more coordinating needed before we could begin to deal with her things.  She had been trying to go through things, but was not a person who easily threw things away.  And she had been married twice, both times to people who tended to accumulate things that might be useful later.

At the beginning of last October my Dear Son and his Divoted Girlfriend brought back the last of the things that we were either going to keep or that needed to be sorted through in depth and couldn't just be chucked.  They came home driving a van and a truck with the truck pulling a rented U-Haul trailer.  All three vehicles were stuffed with boxes and other things. 

I've been sorting ever since.  The boxes over-stuffed our small garage and got mixed with our storage boxes.  It's been hard to tell how close I was to getting everything sorted.

Yesterday I brought in what I thought might be the last two boxes.  There was something that I was dreading.  You see, there were a couple of things that I knew I'd packed to be brought home that I hadn't found, yet.  One was a certificate that just tickled me. If it wasn't in one of those two boxes, then either there was another box that we hadn't found, yet, or there was a box that had gotten mislaid.

Last night I found the certificate that I had packed in Idaho.  I am chuffed to know that these are the very last two boxes to sort through. Well, the last two with photos and papers. There are at least three boxes with green decorative glass and small corning ware lidded casseroles. I'm not worried about what might happen to them if they stay in the garage unsorted, though, so they almost don't count.  

You have to admit, that's a cool certificate.  This is my great great grandmother.  The 1920 census lists her as a metaphysical healer, so she was still at it 25 years after being certified.  She also left a journal that only had four entries in it (my heritage!  none of my forebears ever completed a journal or album), one of which talks about the magnetic therapy she was doing.

Cool beans, Great Great Grandma Archibald.  (She married after getting the certificate and was thereafter no longer Sister L. M. Bates.) 

I May Be On The Last Two Boxes

To be precise, I may be on the last two boxes of pictures.  There are still a few boxes of green glass decorative pieces and at least one box of small corning ware casseroles.  Also, there's a box in the van filled with things that I would like to try selling, but haven't taken to a suitable place to sell them. 

And the stack of cook books to be taken to a thrift store is still sitting by the door.  I think of anything boxes and designated as half gone, though.  We've never retrieved anything from a designated box, so I am confident there will be no backsliding.

The problem with new boxes of pictures is that I have to check to see that I haven't already scanned another copy already.  That would just be making myself a sorting problem for later.  It would also be passing up an opportunity to chuck a duplicate photo.  And I'm starting to get such a lift from chucking photos. 

Chuck.  Chuck.