The Legs Fall Off If You Move It

Oh, my.  So I got sick of packing, and figured I’d start going through some of my own stuff to weed out what I would keep from what I would donate.  It’s like going through one of those geological core samples.  Here’s the epoch where I thought I would make cards.  This is hilarious, because I don’t even send the pre-made kind.  Card stock, fancy papers, various stick on doodads?  To the giveaway pile.

Here’s the phase where I thought I would be a glass painter.  This is hilarious, because I can’t paint.  Glass?  To the giveaway pile.  Glass paint?  Um, I don’t know.  Let’s set that aside. 

Here’s the phase where I was evidently making a lot of something (what?) out of Styrofoam balls and raffia.  Those things were so happy to get out of the closet, they hopped into the box of their own volition.  I think I must have had the Styrofoam balls since we lived in Virginia, which was pre-1995.  Those, plus wallpaper and artificial flowers (seems like I like purple, and pink, and white … seems like I’m an eight year old girl?), some fabric, and one million other things. 

The part that made me start to worry about myself was the area under my work table.  There were:  enough empty paper towel tubes to MORE THAN FILL a copy paper box, even when stacked neatly, row by row, in my best OCD fashion.  And there was a comparable number of the less glamorous TP tubes.  And there was a bag FULL of giant Maxwell House coffee cans.  I can’t remember the last time we drank Maxwell House, or if we ever did, and I can’t imagine that it was ever in the FIVE POUND size.  Maybe I got these from somewhere else?  Dunno. 

So, point being, I filled up giant black trash bag (no longer suitable for yard waste, since Houston now requires these tiny little bags that will only hold a tablespoon or two of yanked out Bermuda grass and cost $8.5 million) after giant trash bag, and box after box with all of the above, plus ceiling tiles (good for bulletin board and cutting board making), index cards (more than 5 packs in each size known to man), clear glass Christmas ornaments (for abandoned decoupage idea), and on and on and on.  And on.  It was stunning, really.  And a little horrifying.  Am I a  hoarder?  Where is the line? 

And, that doesn’t start to scratch the surface of most of the fabric (incl yards of Pendleton wool circa late 1978, when I worked at Barbie’s Fabric Shop in Springfield, VA), or the patterns, or the magazines (dear Lord), or the yarn, or the books, or the Shiny Brite ornaments from a vintage ornament wreath-making phase, or the paper stuff I’ve saved up since the dawn of time.  I started on the paper stuff, but had to stop.  Right on top was a white paper bag, printed with pink roses, from Mae’s in Lexington, SC, where my grandfather would take my grandmother shopping for a new dress whenever she wanted.  He would sit and wait so patiently while she looked and tried on whatever Mae’s had in brown or tan or taupe or beige, and he would tell her she looked pretty in all of them.  And she would pick one, which he would buy for her (she never carried money), and then they would go to lunch.  So, I took this bag, and I put it in the giveaway box, because the roses are pretty and it’s old enough to be officially called ephemera, but then I took it out.  But then I thought, “Well, I’ll still be able to see it at the store every day,” so I put it back in the box.  But then I thought, “But what if somebody BUYS IT?!?!” and I snatched it out of the box and put it back in the drawer where it has been for I don’t know how long, and that was the end of that little project.  

So, you tell me.  Sick hoarder, eight year old girl, or what?

OK, folks.  Let’s just assume going forward that I’ll start every post with an apology about not posting for so long.   So, assume please.

LOTS going on.  Signed a lease for 1230 Houston Avenue, which is just north of Washington Ave and conveniently reached (defined by me as no more than three turns off the big road) from I-10 and 45.  Signing the lease started the giant ball rolling on the facility-related stuff — demo, lighting, paint, store fixtures, moving, packing, utilities (AT&T and Green Mountain), and changing the business address and phone number on everything — so, it’s a lot, on top of what already felt like a lot. 

What I’m trying to do is get everything that is not related to one of those things listed above checked off the list and behind me by tomorrow, and then I’ll be able to focus 100% on the move and then the giant UNPACKING to follow next month.  But, as I have discovered over the past few months, I really like buying the materials and organizing the materials just about exactly as much as I like actually using the materials, so this should be a really fun phase for me. 

So, what else am I doing?  Working on marketing and advertising, working on licenses and forms, making lists, and moving money around by the bag full.  I’m good for the economy.  What else?  Lots of little learning steps along the way.  An overnight soak in vinegar will un-rust the rustiest nuts and bolts from each other.  This amazed me.  Oh, also?  Mothballs are THE DEVIL.  I got two old wool blankets, forewarned that there was a moth ball odor.  Once my allergies cleared out a little, I could smell the mothballs an entire room away from the shipping box that still had the blankets taped up inside.  Since I bought them to felt anyway, I unpacked them and threw them in the washer.  And then we practically had to move out of the house for a week.  Seriously.  There was a trail of odor from where I opened the box all the way to the laundry room.  And the smell in the washer, in the words of my friend, Micky, would knock a buzzard off a gut wagon.  And, soaking and washing them over and over, even with vinegar and oxyclean, didn’t do anything but make the smell laugh at me.  The only thing that did work was putting them outside and letting the air and sunlight do their work.  But, even there, we had intermediate stages of gross — at one point smelling like a wet dog bed (the blankets, not me) –  and the colors faded.  The washer still has a faint odor when I open it, despite busting open a can of whup-ass on it.  So, my advice to you, Internet, is this — just say no to the mothballs.  

Quick inventory update — really cool old furniture hardware, some old lamp finials and other parts, and a ton of horse show rosette ribbons in a rainbow of colors. 

Here’s a picture of part of what the checkout counter will look like.  These are the formerly black beauty shop cabinets.  Came out nice, I think.  That light blue is going to be the ceiling color, and the base color of the cabinet will be the wall color.   Hope you will all come visit it in person next month.

One other thing — lots of people have been asking what they can do to help.  Starting this very weekend, The Center for Recycled Art is going to have a TON of donated materials that need to get sorted, cleaned, packed, unpacked, priced, ooh’ed and aah’ed over, and otherwise treated like the treasures they are.  If you feel so inclined, let me know and we’ll make a plan to make good use of your good intentions.  Eventually, the website will have volunteer information on it, but that’s a to-do item on one of the lists mentioned above.  So, anywho, if you’d like to help, lemme know.  Earth Day is upon us, you know.  No pressure …