Saturday, June 26, 2010


I’m “home” now, so long as home is where most of your material possessions are kept. Because we only live in the house a few months out of the year, we don’t have Internet there. I can bring my computer to my grandparents next door, but it’s pretty slow here, so I haven’t written in a few days. Also, Jake’s at camp and he’s about 33% of my readership.

My mom, Tommy, and I got here late Tuesday night and since then have been to the dentist, eye doctor, the Christian bookstore, K-Mart, and the Olive Garden- the usual stops. Our house here belonged to my great-grandparents, Alfred and Florence (definitely using those for my kids). It was built in the 19-teen's and an addition was put on in the 1950's, I think. We want to do some ремонт (repairs, renovation) to the upstairs, like painting and re-carpeting and getting me a real bed, so Mom and I looked at paint samples and furniture today. We've also been doing some deep cleaning and sorting out clothes. Try putting half your possessions in a house and only coming to it every 6 months, and you’ll see how things pile up and how disconnected you get from your possessions. I'm finally starting to give away some of the junky clothes from high school I was keeping for sentimental reasons. Of course, I always get caught up reading old journals and letters, and it slows me down.
There are dead ladybugs everywhere that we still need to vacuum, too. But it's good to be "home."


Erik said...

And where is this "home" of yours?

Elizabeth said...

Oh yes. I know this scenario all too well. It's hardly likely I will get everything over to Russia, but I don't see myself cleaning out my old room, either. Every time I'm home I get rid of a pile or two, but it is a slow process, especially when memorabilia is involved. I tried making a t-shirt quilt out of old t-shirts and it takes up more room than the shirts themselves did...

Эми said...


The Inside Center (Matt Cullen) said...

1) I have been trying to catch up on these posts.
2) It is a personal goal of mine to give all my "sweet vintagey clothes" to my kids someday. I recall making this decision one day in the Philippines when you and I found a bunch of mom's clothes in a bag, right after we'd moved there. You looked so cool in her things, I just had to ask, "Why dad? Why did you not save me your skinny jeans?"


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