Lately, I've been in the cleaning mood.

And really - to know me - this is not normal. If you were good friends, you'd hop on the nearest flight to make sure I hadn't been abducted and replaced with this ... person who is organizing everything. It's not right, and it's certainly not normal. My motto has always been: Organized people just don't know how to look for things.

Today, I decided I would clean out the garage - or at least 'my half'. On 'my half' of the garage is the tandem space ... where the elusive third car would live. And because we have no third car, we shove a bunch of shit back there. (We meaning ME.) HDHusband has skis, boots, a bike, and golf clubs. Everything else in that space is old baby gear, three diaper bags, a bunch of empty boxes.

Around 11:00 a.m., I had a Starbucks Chai Tea in one hand, and garbage bags in the other. I turned on the music and went to work. NOTHING --- I repeat, NOTHING --- was sticking around that space unless absolutely necessary.

What did I find? Glad you asked.

I found these pieces of clothing that my mother made for me in the bottom of the box.

(Note the get-up on the right: It's fair to say that with short short hair, and boy name anyway, I was mistaken for one constantly - and this outfit didn't help me in the least. The local drugstore owner called me "Fred", just because she could. Lovely.)

As crazy as my mother is (and she is), I have to say that she was an incredible seamstress. We lived 10 miles out of town (from age birth to 4) - and without my baby brother at that time - so she had a lot more time to do such things out in the middle of nowhere. My earliest memory is of being outside in the yard, in a playpen, and having cattle sniffing me and the dog growling at them.

Years ago, I made my mom promise that when she moved from the ranch to the condo, she wouldn't throw away things I really, truly wanted - like the old records we would listen to. When she brought me the stack in 2002, I didn't go through it, just put it back in the Black Hole to be looked through later.

I don't care if these records are worth a cent - I love that I have them. Taking them out of the sleeves today and smelling that familiar record smell ... made me think back to singing along to the songs in front of the fireplace with my microphone (read: hairbrush, whatever). I'd sing to the Carpenters, Crystal Gale, Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, Linda Ronstadt. She a mighty collection of Beatles albums, too. They aren't in my pile, so she best had saved those ...

I don't remember being into Elvis then, but she gave me a few of the albums she had (including the Christmas album - yeehaw!). Here's an Elvis ablum, with a plethora of gospel songs:

I specifically remember listening to this album with my mom and aunt - a lot. I cried big ol' tears when I saw this in my pile:


My cousin and I have talked about listening to the Highwaymen with our mom's, drinking sweet tea from the blue cups. We lived a half a mile from each other on a dirt road, but I digress ... (see how all of these things are conjuring up old memories?)

After my dad died in 1995, my mom put away all the videos of him. Too hard to see/hear. I dug a few out about seven years ago and 'stole' them. I would take them out every now and then just to hear my dad's voice again. Once, when my brother couldn't remember anymore what our dad sounded like, we turned on the confiscated tapes and cried in the dark.

And in this box, way at the back of the garage, I found more in the box with the old video camera (the thing about as big as a Buick). I have memories of my dad lying on the floor in front of the TV and VCR, trying to transfer sound and images. He hated it, but he was meticulous in his note keeping.

And it was bittersweet to see his handwriting, too. I found myself tracing and retracing his words with my hand, hoping I could just transport myself back to the minute he was writing them. Reach out and tell him how much I really love him. Instead, I brought in the video of me in Swing Choir circa 1994 and plan on viewing it in the next few days. Gads. It should be humorous. And most definitely blog-worthy.

So, all in all a very productive day. Feeling good about getting rid of the clothes I know I'll never wear again and feeling good about reconnecting with myself again.

(Also happy to accomodate Frank Galvin who likes to say (often), "Update Bish!!" when he feels you haven't adequately posted. Apparently, my note that MTV was coming to down was sub-par ... bish.)