You gotta love Facebook

I was seriously nudged onto Facebook about a year ago.

I rolled my eyes and sighed and made all sorts of faces signing up because Facebook is ...well Facebook.

But I've grown to like the damn thing.

And I have some clever friends who always post interesting things.

(And just for the record, yes, I am a fan of Nutella.)

This quote, from Rick, made me laugh today.

"May those who love us love us,

And those who don't love us

May God turn their hearts.

And if he cannot turn their hearts

may he turn their ankles

so we may know them by their limping."


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Late Night Confession.....

Geez....I keep thinking about Dr. Manhattan....

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especially the part where he splits himself in two

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because he thought his lover might like to play with more than one man.....at the same time....

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ahhhhh...when did graphic novels get so erotic?

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And if you like you blue naked men with music:

Gleeful

I leaned back in my computer chair.

A sudden rush of spirit entered my heart and I felt the need to giggle.

I just clicked "reserve" on the computer screen about five times.

What's happening to me?

I pulled up my online dictionary and starting entering words to make a diagnosis.

happy.....excited......giggle...... merry....and Bingo:

glee (glē)
lively joy; gaiety

I was gleeful.

It's been so long since I felt this way .....I needed a dictionary to help me name it.

I'm planning a trip and the juices are flowing.

Every year when I see "the ball" drop in NYC on New Year's eve....I want to be there.

I turn to my hub and say ....."Wouldn't it be fun to be in Times Square?

"No."

"But there's millions of strangers pushing and shoving and confetti and bad weather and long hours of standing in one spot....doesn't that sound like fun?

"No."

I've tried friends......"Hey would you like to go to Times Square with me?"

Different valid nos.

So I tried my hub again a couple of weeks ago. "How about going to Times Square this year?"

But I admit.....I greased the deck..........I did the saucer-eyed thing....made my lip quiver a little and looked sad......because....damn it....it's been a fucking hard year.

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

So as soon as I arrived home....I started studying and planning.

Since I know this is a big sacrifice on hub's part.....I decided to design a trip which would have a part he would enjoy too.

So it's Washington DC first....so he can get his fix of museums....then we take a train to NYC.....and somehow figure out how to stand around with a million people in Times Square on New Year's eve.

Of course... this is a Gina trip......so I decided to do a few extra things......

After I wave goodbye to hub and send him back home....I'll hop on a train and visit my friend Krista who is now a professor-type person at Syracuse University. Go Big Orange.

then I'm not sure yet.... perhaps I'll spend a day in the city...or somewhere else...... but I know exactly how this trip ends.

Robert Moses beach lot #5.

I don't care if its 20 degrees below zero...if it's raining...sleeting ...snowing....or there's a big nor'easter....as long as the causeway is open and I can drive to the beach....park my car and walk near the waves and hear them sing...I'll be happy.

Tick off one square on the "bucket list."

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Waiting.......

The house is quiet.

The clock is off the wall and doesn't tick.....the TV cable is disconnected.....the refrigerator does not clink with a new batch of ice cubes.

Everything is waiting.....

Waiting for the crew of women who will arrive in the morning...and begin re-organizing and pricing and placing things in places from which all these things will exit the house.

I'm waiting too....

to go to bed....to get up.....to catch the cats....to squeeze the last things into the car.

I dreaded this day.....the night before my parent's things are placed into hired hands.....

but now that it is here.....I have a sense it's time for all of it to go....

and for me to go too.....

one of the cats is sleeping next to my chair....she has no idea that tomorrow....I will quickly grab her and put here in a crate and move her away from the only place she has lived for ten years....

she is clueless about the changes that will arrive in a few hours.....

I sympathize with her......I've been clueless so many times in the last couple of years.

Woof ....Woof

In Chicago...and working like a dog.....

Sunday the woman in charge of the estate sale for my parent's home comes a' knocking for the keys.

Everything has to be looked at....organized and carried off by Tuesday morning.

So much work for one person.....no siblings and a family far away makes it tough.

Off to bed..up at dawn....then two rooms left to check, sort...pack a few things out.

nite nite world.

My baby's gone....sigh.

How can a blond be a blond if she doesn't drive a convertible?

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Sigh......

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I had to trade in my baby.

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My youngest didn't need a car up north...but now he's down south and needs a car.....and I can't travel and haul more than my purse in my sweet vehicle of pleasure.

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So I had to be practical and trade it in.......my only consolation... the manager at the dealership ...was a Miata freak....he gushed and ohhhh and sighed at my sweet baby....and he didn't laugh when I grabbed his hand and said....please sell it to someone who will love it.

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In fact, he rushed out of his office while we were doing paperwork and told me he remembered a client, a woman already driving an older Miata, who wanted something fresher.

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Well my baby was fresh....like new.

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So now I have a shiny black thing....very nice....very practical.....enough room to haul things....and a moon roof....which isn't exactly a substitute for a open top but will have to do.

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Hub suggested I get woofers...or tweeters...or sub something or other to upgrade the sound from some audio boys in town......so even though I may look ordinary on the outside....I will still be cruising on the inside.

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Very Gina...lol.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little story.

"Where have you been?"

Leo held his arms wide open and waited for me to step into them. He gave me a hug then kissed each cheek.

"I'm old. I don't like it when women disappear."

"Oh Leo, I'm up and back to Chicago. "

"I know...I know. "

I stepped back and grabbed a small glass of wine. I turned to Leo and asked if he'd like a glass of wine too.

"No ...No...my dear."

And that's when I noticed it......a small spark....a tiny twinkle in the eye.....something fresher...even exciting in his being....very low key....but definitely there.

"How have you been Leo?"

"Say that again."

"How have you been?" I half shouted and leaned forward toward his ears.

He bent his head forward too....hoping to catch my question with one of his clunky hearing aids.

"I'm just fine. Did a little traveling."

Sam, a white haired impish man, walked behind us. "Tell her about your girlfriend."

My eyes widened.

"Nonsense. Nonsense. You can't tell people anything without them making a fuss."

He ignored the remark. " I have a joke for you."

Leo always had a joke for me. Long, clever and usually a bit off-colored, I leaned closer to him...ready to listen. Because of his hearing problems, his speech was often muffled and I had to concentrate on each and every word....something he loved.

"There was this Jewish widow who hired a guy on the Sabbath to clean for her......."

I laughed.....just because he was so delighted to begin the story.

"Hey you two... service is about to start." The impish man turned serious.

Leo finished his joke......and I roared....loud enough so it echoed in the big foyer....which made him blush with delight. I grabbed him by the arm and said, "Let's go."

As we sat in our seats waiting for the service to begin, Leo decided to tell me about the woman.

"Well I went to visit my grandson's best friend's family in Baton Rogue. I met a charming woman, the grandmother of the best friend. She's a widow too, " he said. "Her husband died same time as my wife did...about a year and half ago. We had a nice time together. She likes my jokes too." He sat back in his seat and grinned...so pleased...we didn't need to say anything else.

The service began and Leo and I quickly changed seats. I forgot I have to sit on his left side ....his better ear.

"What page is he on now?" Leo bellowed part way through the service.

"226"

"What?"

"226" I shouted.

By now, the regulars at service knew I was prone to yelling pages or directions in Leo's good ear.

I used to be a little embarrassed by my loud directions but I noticed after I shouted out a page number...pages turned and everyone in my section was now on the right page.

"Did he say people are troubled by this passage?"

"Yes, he said people wrestle with this passage."

"He said what?"

"People wrestle with this passage."

"Well I don't."

And thus the entire congregation knew Leo did not wrestle with this passage.

After service, Leo seemed eager to talk to me about his new friend. She was a bit younger....75 to his 79. She was intelligent and well read. Leo had been an ophthalmologist and her husband had been a cardiologist so she was used to logical medical men. He mentioned she was charming at least three times.

"So invite her up."

"What?"

"Leo....you told me you have a cute two bedroom house, invite her up for a week. Now."

"You're being silly."

"Leo...she put a spark into you....I can feel it....that's wonderful...invite her up."

He looked stunned.

"What will I do with her."

I started laughing.

"Oh I know what you're thinking and let me tell you young lady, I've only been with my wife till she passed."

"I didn't say you should invite her up and have sex with her....invite her up and just enjoy yourself."

"What will I do?"

"Take her to a movie....a nice restuarant......does she cook?....let her cook her favorite meals for you....sit outside on the porch and drink a little wine....talk....read a book together....share pictures.....take her to see...."

"Whoa young lady....you have a whole agenda already planned for me. I don't know her that well...I just met her."

"So what are you waiting for Leo?"

"Well I just met her....the timing is..."

"And she liked you and you liked her....duh Leo. I tapped my finger on his chest pocket.....I can see the spark in you Leo....enjoy each other...don't make it hard....just enjoy."

Leo stood there frowning...."Well calling her now might give her the wrong impression."

"And what impression is that?"

Leo laughed and swatted me.

"I'll call her after the holidays in September...after the High Holidays...that would be more proper."

"You're......." he wagged his finger at me and laughed. He didn't finish the sentence...instead he leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek.

"Leo ...we can both tell stories about lose and love these last few years....don't lose her."

He squeezed my hand.

I turned to leave...and glanced one more time at him.

Whatever the connection...the spark had taken a few years off him...lightened his body...his spirit...his heart. It is the nature of a spark to do those things.

"Call her." I mimed a telephone being placed to my ear.

He smiled ....a smile big enough to cross the room....and I touched my heart and prayed it would be so.

~

Naked again

I exited the shower this morning and sighed. My hub used the last towel.

I grabbed a hand towel for modesty, held it to my breasts, and headed down the hallway towards the kid's bathroom and the supply of clean dry towels.

Midway down the hall....I stopped....there was no one home....and my little hand towel was unnecessary.

This is not the first time I've been home alone in the morning.....but it was different today.

Today....all my children are gone.


My daughter.....graduated from Ohio State and is still working and living in Ohio.

My middle son moved in with a friend last month.

The baby of the family....changed colleges and headed off last weekend.

In dealing with the death of my parents....I've been so overwhelmed by the legal matters of their estate and the emotional pain of losing both of them.....empty nest syndrome wasn't on the radar especially since my middle son has always struggled with special needs. I wasn't sure when and if my son could live independently....so his departure....was a fuzzy concept to be worked on in a couple of years.

But last month, he announced that his friend needed a roommate. The rent was affordable and the place close to his job. He's not known for moving quickly....but he was packed and ready to go in hours.

He texts us.....calls us to ask questions.....and comes over for Sunday dinner. He's proud to be on his own....and I am proud of him.

Just the other day.....I relived the poker hot memory of a California school official pointing to a trailer for mentally retarded kids and saying, "This is where Peter should start school."

I am not sure if I said, "Fuck you" or "Fuck this school system.....he's not retarded."

He tisked at me.......and he followed through by writing me up in Pete's records as a "a delusional mother who would not accept her son's disabilities."

We yanked Peter out of his school and patched together schools and services for the next 12 years.

Sometimes I wish I could find that bastard...and a whole handful of other folks and say.....look.....he's working...he's driving....he manages his checking account....he has friends....and he's a success in his own way.

And now.....the greatest sign of his success......is an empty room in our house and a chance to fashion a life.

But who knew all of this would arrive this week.... in this month of August.....on this day.......while I am ping ponging between Chicago and home....and trying to settle my parents estate......while I am jobless....and sometimes lost....and my own house looks like it was hit by an internal hurricane.

I dropped the hand towel....stepped over the dog....and headed for the bathroom and the towels........naked......in my very big ...very empty house.

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Returned home today and checked my blog....ooops....those darn nutz pic are huge!

I'm not anti-massive nutz but the pics are a tad bit overpowering.....on my laptop in Chicago they looked quite proportional....the joys of posting from distant sites...lol.

Size does matter.

Yes... Robert...you can find testicles for your car on the Net

Well I had to find out.

I've never seen plastic testicles in any of our local stores....yet the pickup truck my son photographed in a local parking lot....wasn't the first vehicle I've spotted sporting nuts.

So I headed off to the net.....and bang.....first hit....a website and company devoted to nuts...or Nutz, as the company calls them.

The owner seems to have a pretty good sense of humor about his ten year old business selling novelty testicles.....because there's a cute and half serious video clip embedded in the home page.

I've only seen natural colored nutz hanging from cars and pickups down south where I live...but apparently there's a whole range of styles and colors..... to adorn your cars, trucks, scooters and

(are you ready for this?)

wheelchairs!

Yep....I guess some people slap them on the on their 4 wheeler....to make sure folks know that even someone with assisted mobility can have a tough spirit.

Seeing is believing so I've picked out just a few of the ones I thought were interesting.....

Gives a whole new meaning to "blue balls"....doesn't it?

These are tinted chrome.

These scare me and doesn't it defeat the purpose if you camoflauge them?

I sort of like these......blue by day....and glowing by night.....cause you want to have every one's attention 24 hours a day


All those vieny things are a bit unnerving in a natural color....but I do think the lipstick adds an interesting touch.


And if you aren't brave enough to mount them on your vehicle....for $5 bucks....they have mini testicles keychains.

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Now ain't that special?

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So Robert.....where's your car parked?

Hey you....move out of my way or headed up and back to Chi town in a very big yellow truck.

Things men do to thier pick up trucks in my state.....

Things u can do with a dog at a rest stop

Do my areola need to be freshened?

I was happy.....

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.....sitting on Wabash Ave a few blocks from north Michigan Ave....Chicago's golden mile.......and waiting for my appointment at a hair salon.....it was sunny ...the perfect early morning temperature.....and I beat the traffic into downtown....so I was killing time....relaxing with a cup of coffee and one of those glossy flyers which highlight local businesses.

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Do you need your areola freshened?

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I had to read that line again.

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A permanent make-up tattoo salon had placed the ad. Services offered included permanent eyeliner.....perky eyebrows......and freshened areola.

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In case you're not familiar with the term.....here's a bit of an explanation.

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The areola is the area around the nipple, and it may be tan, beige, pink, dark brown, or some other shade that's darker than the rest of the breast tissue. Mother Nature adds some extra color here for a reason. Initially, newborns can only distinguish light shades from dark ones, so having this natural pointer to the nipple helps the baby latch on and get fed.

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Women who have never been pregnant often have very pale areolas that are close to the color of their nipple and the surrounding breast skin. As pregnancy progresses, however, and upon giving birth, the areola darkens and expands in diameter.

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Apparently with age....or with a breast augmentation.....the surrounding area could lose some of its natural rosy glow.

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Now....I've heard of tattooing the areola after breast surgery for cancer or trauma. It's actually an art.... and can have, as you can imagine, quite a positive effect on a woman who has lost her natural tissue.

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But freshening? Because....???? you've grown a bit older? and a little paler??

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Damn that's just crazy.......but the seed ....thanks to marketing .....was planted.

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When I returned to my parent's house.....and changed clothes....I pulled my bra down and checked my areola.

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The site of me...frowning and looking at my breasts in the mirror....confirmed my worse fear....

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I'm getting crazy up here in Chicago...big time.... and it's time to go home.

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....which I'll do tomorrow.....

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and in case you want to know....I think my areola are just fine.

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This week's treasures......

I've never seen my mother's wedding dress. So when I opened an old trunk this week and poked through some royal blue tissue paper.....I was shocked to discover it.

It's beautiful....ivory silk.....with delicate embroidery.....and satin roses. The dress has no size...no label... it was custom made for my mom. She must have looked both sexy and angelic in it. The silk hugging her small body....the ivory making her glow like an angel in a holy card.

As I folded the dress back into the trunk....I felt a quick stab to the heart....I asked my mom about her dress when I was engaged.......but my mom simply said, "Well, you won't fit into it," and that was that. I've seen a thousand pictures of myself in photo albums this week....I was simply an average sized girl...but my mom was always angry that I wasn't short and petite like she was.....so she could share some of her treasured outfits and perhaps even her wedding gown.
For now....it will go into an archival box with tissue....until some family member ...some very small family member may need it.

It was issued in 1944....and one look at the handle made me realize this wasn't an ordinary knife...but something dad was issued during the war. Sturdy....rugged after all these years....unlike the wedding dress...lol....this knife fits like a glove in my hand.

This nativity set was my version of Xmas action figures. I gasped when I opened a box marked "casseroles" and found it under a bunch of old crispy newspapers. Every December I begged my parents to bring out the nativity set early in December.

I always told them it was because I wanted to set up the manger....but I actually adored playing with all the figures....camels...cows...sheep....a friendly dog, angels ....and a baby in a straw manager. For thirty days....I invented stories....and had my manager friends followed the script...traveling far distances over my grandmother's living room sofa and her cocktail table. And boy did you have to be a creative story teller....a kneeling woman.....men carrying sheep on their shoulders....somber looking angels and a couple of funky gazed guys carrying presents. Oh I wish I would have written those short adventure stories down!

This album cover was so cool....I chucked it into the "take back home" box....I don't care what kind of music the album has....the picture is so cool.....that's all I need.

I was a dancing fool as a kid.....tap and ballet. I was never much of a ballerina....not swan-like enough...and my dance teacher leveled with me at an early age....no way in hell would I ever make it professionally. Oh she said I had some talent....but I was too short. "You have to be at least 5'8"".....and have long legs. I would stare at my legs and wish them to grow ..but they didn't.....and I ended my ballet career pretty early in life.....but I continued to tap dance because all that pounding around in loud heels was fun.......and you just needed a nice.... shuffle ball change......which my stuffy little 5'4" legs could handle quite nicely.

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My dad's basement

I'm back in Chicago and going through my father's basement and crawl space.
It's like Neverland......with all sorts of man toys and interesting machines....

Here's a few of the things I found today...........

A milkshake maker. Nope..we never owned a restaurant and as far as I can remember dad never cooked....so this was interesting...plus I found the stainless steel milkshake containers.

Bing Crosby.....Mitch Miller.....Big Band music....some 78's.... some standard vinyl

Oh ho....I don't think these are politically correct but I remember they were filled with peanuts or pretzels on my dad's bar when I was little.

Oh this made me laugh...the infamous Burt Reynolds posing natural for the a Cosmo girl insert.

It says "Yours Truly".....could my dad somehow have gotten it autographed...???

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A pleasant surprise......

God bless laptops.

Just before I headed home from Chicago....I checked my email and found an offer.

Would I consider chairing the literary festival for our city?

I've been involved with our city's literary festival since it first began 5 years ago. I've had a lot of fun and met dozen and dozens of great authors....from the uber famous like Garrison Keillor to the quiet poets of my state.

I was so flattered I was even asked to consider this....but I didn't know what to do....I'm knee deep in working on my parent's estate...and going crazy.....but I know logically every month more and more things get settled and eventually their house and possessions will be settled too.

So I said yes....and today, my first day of work, sent out schmoozy emails. My job as chair is centered around schmoozing and being a talking head.....which is probably all I could handle right now.

I laughed hard when I thought of updating my facebook page. Since I'm currently unemployed and working in on two community projects......does that make me a "community organizer"?

Oh my gosh....I could be running for President in a few years.....move over Hillary....I'm stretching my wings.

Now you'all plan to come down to my city next spring in 2010....

whoooeeee what a party we're going to have....so much fun and so much smarts all rolled up in one event.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Decider is going Crazy.......

Yesterday I was convinced I was either going crazy or was going to have my first ever panic attack.

My nerves felt like marching ants ....my head felt fuzzy.....and every cell in my body was irritated. I wanted to stop working.....wanted to get in the car and go home....wanted to do anything but sift piece by piece through my parent's things. Every item I looked at or touched seemed to increase the anxiety and irritation.

I actually set the timer on my phone.....you will work thirty minutes before retreating from all this stuff. So I would work thirty minutes then run outside or sit down and watch TV for a few minutes then set the timer and tackle the next section or box.

I am no slouch.....I can work hard and work for many hours....but the volume of my parent's stuff is defeating me.

My son is up here this time with me.....and I noticed he's not affected. He basically does what I tell him....moves boxes....detrashes....carries things around .....and doesn't seemed overwhelmed at all. So why do I feel like a giant sandpaper is filing me down?

My hub nailed it down on the phone....."You're the decider....the only decider."

Exactly.

No matter if I'm working solo or with a family member.....I'm the decider....I'm the only child...the only survivor of my parents.....so I'm the one who says......save....trash.....bring home....donate.

I am the decider for every fork, video tape, magazine, hat, coat, bowl, rubber band, and bottle of dish detergent.

Everything.....and in house brimming......overflowing.....stuffed with things......making 10,000 decisions a day on everything....every minute....is short circuiting me.

And....there's not much relief........everything must be decided upon by September 1st....that's the deadline for when the estate sale people take over.....that's the day everything must be decided by......there's part of me....that wants to walk out tomorrow and lock and door and relate to the sales people....take all of it.....I'm finished with the stuff......but in boxes and odd corners....there are piece of my parents and grandparents and great grandparents....that I feel obliged to discover and touch and decide.

Last week....my clergyman told me that you lose different aspects of yourself when your family dies or leaves.....when you lose a child you lose your future.....when you lose a husband, lover, significant other....you lose the present.....and when you lose your parents....you lose the past.

If parts of my parents and my grandparents and my great grandparents go forward into the future and into my children's life.....then I've got to look in the boxes...and touch everything...........and be the decider. There is no way out.

It is one hell of a job.

Boxes already decided upon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Never confuse a Merkin with a Gherkin......

It's good to have smart friends.....people you can always learn from.

My friend Krista......is smart.....so smart.... a renowned university recently granted her the privilege of placing a PhD in back of her name.

She wrote an email to me a couple days ago and made a joke which involved the word "merkin."

Hmmmm....I said....not getting the joke.......perhaps there's a typo here....perhaps her fingers slipped ......I bet she meant to type "gherkin" not "merkin."

gherkins relaxing.

So for the hell of it.....I googled merkin.....with low expectations.

Wrong.

Knowledge base expanded.

There are merkins in the world..........or I should say there are merkins attached to people in the world.

Merkins are pubic hair wigs.

They've been around since 1450....and were initially used by prostitutes to hide runny oozy syphilis sores from their customers. ( I'll pause now for the obligatory shiver of disgust.)

Then men thought merkins might be fun....especially transgendered men....and they applied them above and over (?) their male organ to look sleek and girly.

Merkin wearing is quite simple...... shave......(very close) .... apply some adhesive....(not Elmer's glue) and viola....you can hide....accentuate.....or titillate.

As you might expect.....Walmart doesn't carry merkins (and if they did ....would they keep them in the hat section?)....but there are merkin websites where you can order a pre-made wig or design your own. Merkindworld is a fun place to browse...complete with a short but excellent history of pubic wigs.

I was also intrigued with Wikipedia's discussion of the merkin....I didn't know merkins are a Hollywood stand-by.

In Hollywood film-making, merkins are currently used in films where they are worn by actors and actresses to prevent inadvertent exposure of the genitalia during nude or semi-nude scenes. If no merkin were worn, it would be necessary to restrict the shot to exclude the genital area; with the merkin in place brief flashes of the crotch can be used if necessary. The presence of the merkin protects the actor from inadvertently performing 'full-frontal' nudity – some contracts specifically require that nipples and genitals be covered in some way – which can help ensure that the film achieves a less restrictive MPAA rating.[7] A merkin is also used if the actor has less pubic hair than required for the role, as in the case of Kate Winslet in the film The Reader.

I am, at this point, ashamed to admit I moved The Reader to the #1 spot in my Netflex queue.

Why does an actress need a forest? When is a bush not enough?

You may think.....well all of this is silly.....but Merkinworld......relayed an interesting concept. Merkins can be fun and sensuous.

The wearing of a pubic wig is a sensory experience. The wig can allow the wearer a certain "jouissance" as it is made of a fibre/hair that has been selected by the wearer, and it is worn on an erogenous zone to attract and excite a partner.

Jouissance?

What a delicious word.

The word becomes relevant to cultural and literary studies through its usage by the psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan to signify the condition or bliss, arrival, merging with the other, which can be associated with orgasm but also the obtention of any particularly desired object or condition - for the explorer, arriving at the North Pole perhaps.

Oh my....orgasm....bliss......poles.....

Is it hot in here or what?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His and Her Merkins

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A change of plans

Ping.

Pong.

Back home again.....after a very difficult week in Chicago

Probably the hardest week I've had.... since my parents died in April

I talked to an estate liquidator and made plans to empty their house.

Since their death.....I've been sorting and packing and hauling and giving things away

But it hasn't made a dent in the total amount of goods in their house.

The first two nights I was back in thier house ....I'd wake up disoriented and afraid.....I could feel their stuff creeping closer and closer to me......surrounding me in my small bed.....getting ready to jump and pounce and consume me for years and years.

Friends...acquaintances....neighbors....who have seen the beautiful and new and vintage things in my parents' house tell me I could make a killing on EBay....and Craig's List....."Oh just put an ad out and people will swarm for that item"......and they would.....except.....we are not talking about a few items....but thousands.....from 78 vinyl albums to plain old knives and forks.

I could sell objects for the next decade...even for the rest of my life.

For example, I found a dozen vintage straight razors....the sharp razor blades that men used in the 20's and 30's after they soaped their faces. I could save one or two...but the others.....I'd need to research the types and prices of the razors......list the razors on a website ....conduct the sales....ship them out...follow up on payments and keep an accounting for taxes.

It would take hours and hours of work... it could be a source of pleasure to distribute them.....and of course I would generate income.....but the problem is.....I have a three story house full of items....from freezers to razors to hat pins.

Even if I glued myself to my computer chair and sold items continuously ....it would take years....and where do I store all of these items as I remodel and sell their house?

I paced the house for the first two nights....wondering how one person could possibly manage the accumulated goods of two people over 84 years.

And then I realized ....I couldn't manage it.....and I had to answer a basic question......what is more valuable to me?

My time/life or money?

If I sell their items slowly and conscientiously.....I could profit more....make more money on the items they have saved and collected......but it would .....literally.......take years of my life.

Time or money?

I decided my time and life was more valuable....and I really didn't like selling things.

So I called a couple people...and had a business woman come over and survey the house. Normally an estate sale may run a day ...sometimes two....she told me this was definitely a three day sale.

She was kind and reassuring woman who had lots of experience dealing with estates.......although the items would be carried off by strangers.......she reminded me they would find new homes.... with collectors who would cherish their new treasures and regular folks who would incorporate the utensils and brooms and storage bins in their life.

I knew this was the right decision.....for my parent's things as well as for me....but now...each item I touched....each glance at a painting or chair which would not go home with me.....made me cry.

I cried in the bathroom when I touched the towels....I cried in the living room when I stroked the grandfather's clock.....I cried in the basement... and in the crawl space....where my dad had stored hundreds of boxes. I'd look at the boxes....the crates....the mysterious items wrapped in tons of plastic and I would lay down on the carpet and sob.

"Dad Dad Dad....why did you save all this stuff???

Did you want me to keep it? Or can I sell it?"

"Dad....Dad.....Daddy?"

But he didn't answer me......

and all I have for guidance.....are snippets of conversations ....."Oh I'm saving this old radio 'cause someday I bet you could get a good price"

Did you mean I could sell these things ? Did you mean you were expecting this would happen....is it okay Dad to do this?

The estate woman...suggested a two month time line....she told me to check every box and recheck every closet....and ask myself keep or sell? Touch everything.....Make it an active decision so years later I won't wonder what was in that old red box or wonder if there was anything hidden in dad's closet.

So I finished some projects and decided to come home.....next week I'll take my son up for a week....and then later in the month..... I'll return to Chicago and nurse their stuff for two or three or four weeks...whatever it takes to touch and look and smile and cry at all the items my parents have used and saved in their lives.

I can't imagine walking into the house after the sale.....and seeing all their things gone.....I simply can't imagine how it will feel to know the organ is gone or the funky silver cocktail table...or the singing cowboy music box....does not exist in my life anymore as part of their life....

I simply can't imagine.....how it will feel....to open the door to their house....and find it empty.