The Big Slog

My mother's memorial service went really well. Of course, the day after everyone scattered back to their homes. My brother had to fly to Texas for work and I drove him to the airport; my SIL and the kids left separately. My sister and her family left back to their home in Colorado. Then I had to make arrangements for the party tables, chairs and linens to be picked up and for the tree trimmers to come this week (my parents' home got cited by the city due to tree overgrowth to the point that the street signs were obscured). 

That much is done. Since then I have been packing, in a halfhearted fashion. This coming week a friend of mine is hiring a van, for the second time in a month, and we will ship more of my stuff out there. I have so many pictures - too many! - and in the coming year I need to look into selling or donating a lot of my things. 

Yesterday as I was cleaning out desk drawers I found one of the last birthday cards from my parents. My mother's handwriting was so shaky that it was almost unreadable. Poor mom, I used to admire the elegance of her handwriting. Mine is rather esoteric by contrast. I recall once on vacation writing up a list of requests for a takeout burger place and watching my niece and nephews squint at it. 

Old playbills I kept for years, now gone. So many things I just don't need to keep. I have a large rubber stamp collection that I'm contemplating throwing out, but have not been able to bring myself to do it. Maybe I'll hold a garage sale next year. With the threatened shortages for nearly everything I think I could do rather well. 

Back to work...

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