Posts Tagged ‘old favorites’
Regular Adventures
Over the years, much of my old wardrobe that I haven’t been able to part with has ended up in a closet at the lake. It is always a fun moment for me to rummage through the variety of shirts to pick an old favorite to decorate my day when we are at Wildwood.
We packed up early yesterday and then waited for the delivery of our new oven. As the appointed hour neared, I hopped on a bike and rode up to the end of the driveway to help guide the truck to our place. After almost 60 minutes of riding circles and watching traffic pass by, I came back to the house because I was getting chilly.
As I walked in, I heard Cyndie on the phone with the appliance place, and they were telling her the guys are on their way. I didn’t go back out again. Turned out I didn’t need to. Moments later, they were at the door. Old stove out, new one in, connected, leveled, and calibrated without any complications.
Too bad we weren’t hanging around long enough to bake the first batch of cookies in the new oven.
It was good to get home and find everything mostly in order, and the animals happy to see us. The gardens are growing well, the raccoons got into the bin of kitchen compost, and there is evidence that Asher did some unauthorized digging in the yard.
The jewel weed is looking about as happy as we’ve seen it in years. It’s hard to tell which of the two plants wants to spread out more: the strawberry patch that Cyndie’s trying to rein in or the wild jewel weed.
It rained off and on all weekend at home, but there was barely a quarter of an inch showing in the rain gauge. It hardly looks like the lawn grass has been neglected. I think I’ll get away with waiting closer to the end of the week to mow before I’m gone for the next week on the bike trip.
It’s time to really appreciate the luxuries of my bed and private bathroom, because that comes to a temporary end by Saturday. My countdown is definitely on, looking forward to the next adventure.
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Clutter Kept
Honestly, there were things within the first drawer and over the top of my dresser that have been there for years. When we made the move almost five years ago, I poured everything that had accumulated in the top drawer for the twenty-five years prior into large ziplock bags. Upon arrival to this home in October of 2012, I pushed those bags right back into the drawer to be dealt with later.
Or not.
I have actually found myself digging through the contents a couple of times in the ensuing years, in search of some phantom item from a vague recollection –which I never, ever find– and had the thought that I should probably sort through the bags and bust some clutter.
Over the weekend, Cyndie made a sweeping pass through the house to prepare for a showing to a potential client. Her magical ability to make things disappear from surfaces always excludes my dresser, but this time my mess really stood out to me.
On a whim, (was it connected to the celestial show to come?), I took my shot at Cyndie’s sweeping magic and waded through the clutter on top.
Inevitably, there were a few items to which I couldn’t part.
I slipped them into one of the bags in the drawer. Soon, I realized the bags had to go. I needed space in that drawer for currently active items that had been laying on top. The bags were so full they completely filled the drawer.
Full disclosure: The clutter isn’t busted yet. To save time, I moved the bags into a box, instead of processing the treasure of collectibles contained within. However, in the interest of not totally giving up on the ultimate goal, I set the box –too full to even close– on the floor beside my bed where it would be out of sight to the casual viewer, but where I would trip over it every day until I deal with it.
Any bets on whether I can do five years, stepping around the obstruction?
While I have a hard time parting with treasures, I am getting better at spending a little coin to replace things that wear out. When it comes to my cherished threadbare Carhartt Double Front Work Dungarees, it took an email spam ad touting half-price irregulars to wrench open my wallet.
The three primary pairs in heavy rotation for dirty-work around the property have gotten so ratty as to be entirely fashionable, although not completely safe for public display by anyone with a little modesty. The crotch where Cyndie had sewn patches is now vented around her handiwork.
The kicker last week was when Cyndie came up from the laundry with a six-inch stick about half the diameter of my little finger and asked if I was keeping it for any reason. It was now a clean stick, as it made it through the wash inside the rip of the first layer at one of the knees.
Pequenita put my new replacement pairs through some serious testing as soon as they arrived yesterday afternoon.
Now I will look a little more presentable for the multitude of workshops Cyndie and Dunia are holding in the days ahead to kick off Cyndie’s return to active duty following this summer’s shoulder surgery.
Hopefully, no one will wander into the bedroom and stumble over my treasures that are no longer on the dresser.
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Forgotten Albums
I went on a download binge of old music from my youth over the weekend. When I finished high school, I spent a year working full-time in a record store. Spending long hours exposed to a repetition of newly released music tends to in grain the songs in a person’s mind.
Every once in a while I get an urge to hear the old tunes again, but the majority of my old album collection was sold long ago. If I want the music back, I need to buy it again. I’m okay settling for digital versions that can be conveniently downloaded, but those offerings aren’t as complete as I need them to be.
My tastes, and the depth of music I was exposed to back then, move beyond the mainstream of what has been converted to digital.
I don’t know what the parameters are that record companies use to dictate what gets digitized and what doesn’t, but it always surprises me when I stumble upon something that has been passed over for upgrade to the latest technology.
Luckily, I still have my old turntable, so if I get truly desperate, I can always shop for the vinyl versions of old favorites that I once thought I would never miss again.
Before I do that, I first need to find the single milk-crate-sized wooden box of the most precious saved albums I couldn’t part with, stored downstairs somewhere, to verify my latest craving isn’t actually one I kept.
My digital music collection has taken on a renewed importance again, as the public radio stations are running one of their thrice yearly fund drives this week. We are already sustaining members, so I avoid the whole pitch and replace radio in the car with my iPod on shuffle.
I keep coming up with songs I had no idea were in my collection. It’s a wonderful distraction during my long commute to the day-job.
After purchasing some old favorites, like the Blues Brothers album that came out while I was working the record store, I needed to update my iPod. I didn’t want to completely sync it with my home iTunes library because the iPod has some music on it from CDs I ripped on my work computer (because it is an old iMac that still has a disk drive in it).
Not thinking clearly, I stumbled on the feature where I could select just the new songs I wanted to add. Thinking I had found my answer, I clicked the 5 new —using that term relatively— albums to copy over and hit sync.
Do you see what I did there?
When it was finished, I had all 5 freshly downloaded albums moved to the iPod… but that was all I had. Be careful what you sync.
I gave in and let my entire home iTunes library re-sync with the iPod. Now I need to go back later and figure out what method I originally used to move only the 4 albums ripped into the work iTunes library, onto my iPod.
I’ve done it before, I should be able to do it again.
I suppose this would be a lot simpler if I’d just store all of my music in the cloud.
Maybe I’m just waiting until they digitize all the music I really want before I will finally take that step. The ball’s in their court.
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Relative Something 