Contained Clutter


Tidy– for now

I love our house the morning after a party, especially when I manage to get things cleaned up and back in their proper places. Everything is still so tidy! (I had help!)

Before the party, I squirreled away the clutter that lived on surfaces, multiplying whenever I looked away. The now tidy surfaces are a good place for memories to dance.

And what memories! Last night – at the rescheduled birthday blowout – Doug thanked God for all the people helping us celebrate – half of whom were twelve and under.  Best presents ever!


Celebrating — NOT counting!

Shortly, though, the clutter will remerge . . . mainly books, papers, and bits and bobs of our lives. However, I am determined to find better places for this stuff.

Following the suggestion and example of friends, I’ve relinquished three bags of clothes and books.

I’ll keep at it, I hope.

It’s Lent, after all.

What better time to inventory all that I have, and share . . . not junk, but practical, clean, and attractive things I would buy.   No spotty tee shirts, no books with torn or defaced pages; no worn out, scruffy shoes.

MEMO: Give away good stuff. The junk, take it to the dump. 

Remember — I am giving to bless people not distress them! (see Dear World, Let’s Stop Giving Our Crap to the Poor.)

 The excellence of a gift lies in its appropriateness rather than in its value.– Charles Dudley Warner

So, my big challenge will be — in the remainder of Lent – one I set for myself. Give so I fill a  bag a day, or there about. I’ll keep you posted. I come up with great ideas; follow through is not always a given.

BTW: Yes, I am still knitting. Maybe by Easter, I will have assembled the patchwork of “squares.” As you can see, I have learned again that making knitted squares is an art and a discipline. I was told, cast on the same number of stitches, and use a counter to know when to end it. This is a true truth.


Knit, Knit, Knit

I always pass on good advice.  It’s the only thing to do with it.  It is never any use to oneself.  ~Oscar Wilde, An Ideal Husband, 1895


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