I Can't Part With The Pickle-vator

OMG, I cannot believe the stuff I have accumulated. Most of the items I've come across that are not completely trash (giant Spongebob, heavy duty machete, hanging silk Wisteria plant, surround sound system... yep, surround sound system) I have carried out to the curb, and it disappears overnight. Come trash day, what's not taken, the garbage man will haul away.

So, obviously I have had much issue getting rid of stuff. I am not a pack rat, at all! As a matter of fact, I kind of lack sentimentality at all, in the tangible sense. I like have a couple things to pass on to my kids; things of my grandma's and great grandma's I would never part with. But I don't have all that many of those things. Things of my mom's of course, I still cherish (I have a fabulous quilt, and some great wall hangings she's stitched). Those are some obvious things a person would hold on to. I won't mention the things I got rid of; suffice it to say some people might not feel the same way.

The one thing I found today I just can't seem to toss is a pickle jar. Yes, a pickle jar! I thought it was the coolest thing at the time, and I still think it's a great idea. A pickle-vator! They placed the pickles on a yellow thingy with slots, that has a little plastic piece coming up the middle to the top of the jar, with a little handle on it. When you need a pickle (and we all need a pickle sometimes), just lift the picklevator, and your pickles are right there for you to grab! No more cramming your hand in the jar for those last few pickle slices or getting pickle juice on your fingers.

I'm keeping the pickle-vator! And how about the mini-icecube tray? It went...

I'm Moving

I sold my house. I took bottom dollar, even though they wanted me out in 3 weeks. I had termites, a crappy home inspector, and a positive test for Radon. I had a kick ass realtor though (Pam Socha, House of Brokers), and she made it happen. She gave up a little skin, I gave up a lot... and the other side didn't give anything. Cash buyers though, so I guess not much incentive for the other realtor to give up much.

In the last two weeks I've averaged less than four hours sleep a night. Thursday morning when Ray didn't eat his cereal and I didn't know it, and Mackenzie was yelling at him as we were walking out the door... I had had it. I sat down and cried. The kids were amazingly good after that.

Yesterday I didn't cry... I drank. I was cleaning out the garage refrigerator, and found an old bottle of champagne. On a whim, I popped the cork, said here's to you... and I drank some of it. One full glass, on little sleep and an empty stomache. I was cured of all my woes.

My closing is on Friday of this week. I'm moving into a temporary home, and building new. The builder happened to have a house available that's currently for sale, and he's renting it to me for a song. Nice. I just hope Friday gets here...