Tag: boxes

Happy Independence Day!

The Renaissance-inspired Medieval Scapini Tarot by Luigi Scapini is one of the first Tarot decks I ever bought, oh… nearly thirty years ago? My friend Princess Patti told me decks should be wrapped in silk, and Lynne donated that silk Oleg Cassini scarf to the cause. The wooden box is one I handpainted, and it and the scarf have always been the permanent home of this deck.

It really is a lovely deck to look at–I’m honestly not much of a Tarot card reader, though I like to have mine read, and I have often read for my friend Big Hair Lisa, though not from this deck, and have also read for Debby, Geof, Geraldine, and my Four Princes (they being James, Timothy, Timmy, and Jim). If I never read for my friend Steve C, I should have, because he likes to analyze things and Tarot certainly lends itself to that.

Of course, when I opened this today, I pulled the Fool. Not at all surprised and one of my favorite cards. From our ever helpful Internet:

To be the Fool is exhilarating, so freeing.

Although The Fool is often depicted carrying a tote over his shoulder, The Fool has barely enough room for a toothbrush and maybe a sandwich for his next meal inside his tote. He has made no plans for his journey, he is joyously anticipating whatever comes next. Preparedness is not in his vocabulary or mindset. Think about it, if you were going off on an adventure you would probably plan for it weeks ahead of time, scheduling every move in advance. In general we don’t like to be confronted with the unexpected. Whereas The Fool, begins his circular journey at the zero point, full of anticipation and without worries or expectation. Zero is a very good starting point. The Fool offers opportunity to shed your emotional baggage, heal past hurts, and begin anew.

Anyway, the scarf is red, white, and blue, a reminder for me to wish you a happy, safe, and for your animals, fireworks-free Independence Day. May you always enjoy the abundance of freedoms our founders meant for us to have and our forebears fought for more than once.

Courage, citizens!

Relax

From The Relax Deck, I pulled the “Freeing Time” card:

Many of us live as slaves to time: rushing off to work, then hurrying home again, with precious little free time to do anything else. We should remember, though, that seconds, minutes, and hours are illusory, for the clock is a human invention. On weekends and during time away from work, take off your watch and do things as and when you wish. This will allow your body to re-establish its natural rhythm and make you feel more relaxed.

Can’t help it that this makes me laugh. Replace “take off your watch” with “put down your phone.” Then someone remind me: What are weekends?

The point is good, nonetheless.

Old Stuff Day

Y’all probably think I make these up, but I really do consult a Days of the Year Calendar to find daily themes. March 2 is “Old Stuff Day.”


We finally celebrated Christmas with Lynne last night (which means my Christmas cards are now late TWICE), and she gave me this metal box she found at one of the antique malls she and I have been going to since the dawn of time (we being dinosaurs ourselves, after all). She cleaned up the outside a little and lined the inside with some fabric. Now I just need to figure out which treasures it will hold…

That Middle Bedroom

It isn’t finished because the dresser is covered with unwrapped Christmas presents and the art isn’t hung. But we did it! The Pooh Room is back in business.


This quilt belonged to my mother, and we’ve never used it until now.

The original Pooh curio cabinet was destroyed in the flood. This one was in the library, and though it has water damage at the base, we decided to keep it and make it the new Pooh curio cabinet.

Guest ready! With some sentimental touches.


The stained glass dragonfly box was in the guest room at The Compound. The stained glass candle holder was in the living room at The Compound. The butterfly lamp was my mother’s and was once in the Dollhouse (that became the TimLair). The plaid pillow with a Christmas scene in beading was created by and a gift from our friend Geraldine in the 1990s, and the little blue pillow with the teddy bear iron-on decal was made by Mother.

Wayback Wednesday?

They were safe during the flood, stashed in old shoeboxes on the upper shelf of a closet. Out of sight, out of mind saved them.

My old 45 records. When the bin came home from storage that they’d been put in as we cleared the house, I decided they needed a really solid and classy case of some kind, befitting vintage survivors of the storm. I found these online–mostly used by deejays and musicians and collectors of rarities, I suspect, but my records are just as special to me. There are a LOT of good memories etched into that vinyl along with the music.


Their new home to be.


Ready for sorting.


When it comes to band names, the alphabet is hard.


Little Eva Destruction (that’s what Tim calls her, so it’s her new DJ name) our foster dog says, “What can I spin for you?”
Wouldn’t it be funny if you asked and I had it. No, Marika, I DON’T have that. Not on 45, anyway.

Drowned Poetry

Almost a year ago, I posted about dreading taking on this task. When we took a photo of this closet in the middle bedroom after the flood water was out of the house, it didn’t seem so bad.


Ha. That door has been replaced. That floor was replaced. The lower walls of the closet had to be replaced and repainted, along with all the woodwork in and around the closet and that entire room. That Dyson was dead thanks to water damage. And that’s where the bag with all my Magnetic Poetry stuff was–and it had water in it. A month after the flood, as referenced in the above linked post, I knew I was going to have to tackle cleaning it, but I just didn’t have the energy to do that in light of all the other things I was doing day in and day out.

The bag got stuck on a lower bookshelf in the library, where I had to see it every day and know I wasn’t doing anything to fix it.


You can see it in this picture behind Jack, taunting me.

A few weeks ago, I bought some plastic containers so when I did take on the job, I’d be able to organize. Those containers were then stuck in the middle bedroom where everything goes to be out of sight and wait for the house to be finished so it can be moved to its eventual destination.

I decided today was the day.

First, opening that bag, being confronted by the odor, and figuring out what could be saved and what was lost.


Anything that had any kind of paper was not salvageable. Even if it looks okay in the below pictures, it was stuck together, misshapen, and it smelled. So goodbye entertaining and original boxes.

Magnetic Poetry: The Game was the worst. The plastic inset had protected its metal container, but the paper stuff inside was still wet and covered in mildew. It was completely disgusting.

Cleaned and saved:

This little container had some rust, but I cleaned it and all its words, dropped a couple of breath mints in with the words, and I hope it’ll be okay.

Most of the words had long been divided into multiple plastic containers. Some of those never took water and were okay. Some had to be thrown away. I lost a whole set of gay-themed magnetic words I bought in San Francisco in 1998. That set is no longer manufactured, and I’ll miss it and some of the words unique to its era.

All of the surviving Magnetic Poetry words were separated and given baths in my kitchen sink. Hundreds and hundreds of words, a box at a time, were cleaned and dried and put into new containers. This took all day long as I worked on it while I was also doing my rescue job. Whenever there was a work lull, I went back to the kitchen. Lynne was here cooking a pork roast in the crock pot. She cleaned the house while I was doing all this other stuff, cooked our dinner, ushered dogs in and out all day, and loaded the dishwasher after dinner. It was a rainy, humid day, so apparently even housework was better than trying to do anything outside. I’m eternally in her debt for taking over the care of the Hall and the Hounds for the day.

Too bad I didn’t take photos of all those words laid out in the sink or drying on towels. Photography wasn’t part of the cleaning routine. By the end of the day, this was everything that was safe, all cleaned and dry.

What I couldn’t save were the personalized sets of magnetic words that were made for me by Marika (Twilight-themed) and Rob E (Becky-themed). The paper on those magnetic sheets was ruined by water. I’d also been given a colorful set of magnetic words by our friend John that an author signing at Murder By The Book had handed out at her event. Those are the ones in the third photo above, stuck to my metal box. That box… Well, I’ve cleaned it, but it looks pretty bad, and I haven’t put any of the word collections inside it. It may remain just a decorative reminder of the day Harvey tried to drown all the poetry.

As if…


This is my message to everyone struggling after Hurricane Florence. I deeply hope that you get the kind of help that was given to Texas and Texans. I wish that same level of help had been given to Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria. (That is not to disparage the people and organizations who are helping there and have been for a year. You are an inspiration and a gift.)

I wish all the survivors and rescuers, human and animal, the best from the bottom of my heart.

Like love, like hope, like help, as with all art, there will always be poetry.

Slow return

A few boxes have come home from storage and been unloaded, though not really put into great order. Some stuff in two of the dining room cabinets:

There are boxes of games that go into a cabinet in the living room–not yet unpacked. I think I’ll be culling them, because they are wanted for a yard sale/fundraiser. There are several versions of Trivial Pursuit that are just too darn hard!

Then boxes of things from the two living room curio cabinets that Lynne packed. Wonder if I can talk her into coming back and unpacking them! (Magic 8-Ball would say, “Outlook not so good.”)

BUT… there are things on the Woof Wall above the dogs’ dining area. That dachshund is a chalkboard. If only the dogs were tall enough to write messages there. Or had opposable thumbs.

And the larger guest room is starting to come together–with a bed for the first time in months!

We’ll get there.

She Moves Ahead!

Tonight Debby, Lynne, and I ran some errands. When Lynne got into the car, she showed me a box she was donating to our coloring supplies–our pencils have outgrown their current holder. Thoreau being a favorite of mine, it’s a good choice. I do believe that the quote proves that Jack is also a Thoreau reader. Jack can not be wild and free because he is a Bad Boy, and the world thanks me.

Of course, Lynne being Lynne, I found there were other surprises inside when I arrived home and opened the box.

Anything to get more slices in the house! It reminded me that there was a print of orange slices in the condo where we stayed on vacation. I meant to get a photo of it and forgot. I blame the arrival of Tropical Storm Cindy for my omission in the ongoing Fruit Slice Campaign.