Finding Molly Ringwald
We learned not long ago that the Builder o' Our Casa is bringing the Architect o' Our Casa over to take photos of said Casa. Lovely!! Come on! But first, we had had to clean up this bad boy.
We moved into our house five years ago. We combined two different apartments. We put a lot of crap into the storage room downstairs. A LOT. In fact, we would - under general princple - just throw things in there and close the door. Not organized, not even by a long shot. They won't be looking in the room, persay, but after a leak the first part of the summer, a lot of that SHIT was out in the hallway, and neither my husband nor I were really that inclined to go down and clean/organize.
Until this past week, that is.
I went down into this room on Thursday of this last week, complete with a few too many cups of coffee in my system, and HAULED ASS. I threw out things I can't even imagine why I had in the first place, or why I hadn't tossed them during one of the last moves. Because I lived alone and had a lot of second-hand stuff, I probably saved that stuff out of force of habit. Or laziness. Maybe both.
Among what was found (and kept) during the weekend clean-out:
1. A bracelet I thought I lost about 325 moves ago! My mom bought this bracelet for me in Santa Fe, NM, right after the dinner where she told me she'd be marrying Bildo (sound it out). I didn't really like the guy, and not even due to the fact that he was the 'first guy' since my dad died (a few years prior). They were married less than a year, too. The bracelet? I discovered a little tin can heart thing. I'm ecstatic.
2. A photo of myself and my high school best guy friend ever. He was my Preacher's Kid. We went with our respective dates that year, but my mom managed to get a picture of us. Love this guy. Still do. (I fell down in that dress. The jerry-rigged 'fountain ... or HORSE TANK ... was leaking water, and I slid and split my dress. Another mom fixed it with duct tape on the backside. Small town, unite!)
3. A bunch of notes from 5th and 6th grade. Honest to God, PASSED NOTES. My girlfriend and I would come up with a 'secret code' and write to each other back and forth. I should ask her sometime if she remembers with the BOMB drawing means ... hmmm.
4. This photo of me and a friend from college. After my dad died (a few days into my second semester of my first year in college), I would come back and visit the college. I don't remember having much in the way of purpose when coming back, except I think I didn't want to lose touch with being only nineteen, y'know? This photo was taken on one of those trips back:
(on the back it says, "So you will always remember your Latin Lover, 1000 Kisses". I remember no 1000 kisses. Not even a one!)
5. Lots of letters and cards from all of my crushes, and crushes that would become really good friends in the future. I scanned the names on the envelopes, and seriously felt as if I was standing at my mailbox, seeing their names, getting that tummy flip-flop all over again. I haven't allowed myself yet to sit down and read through them, but I am quite sure with a great glass of wine, I'll have some fine memories.
6. All of my Bible-thumping stuff. My workbook from Dr. Dobson making me promise not to DO IT before marriage (um, broken) and not to drink and do drugs (sort of broken again there, happy santa!!). I will have to do a post on this. It's hysterical. I would write mean thing to my mom in the answer section, so when she'd snoop through to see if I was still "purse and wholesome" (really, who would want to mount my Molly Ringwald haired up self - COME ON!!), she'd read, "I hate you" instead of, "Jesus loves me".
7. A photo album from high school. Good Lord. EASE UP ON THE SALON SELECTIVES, HDW!! That's all I really need to say to my high school self. That and RE-LAX. My dad was the school board president and I was mortified pretty much all of the time. I was shy. I wasn't good at sports. I kicked ass at music and theater, and that - my friends - was pretty much it until I got OUT of the town (albeit a wonderful one) and experienced the world.
8. My Junior High/High School poetry book. HOW BADLY I wanted to write angst ridden poetry. I tried channeling Dorothy Parker, but to no avail. Later in life, I'd kick fucking ass on this shit, but in the 8th grade? Not so much. I have plenty of cheesy songs quoted in my book, though. Who doesn't need to hear Journey, Foreigner and MICHAEL BOLTON!?! Good God. I am ashamed writing that.
9. Speaking of cheesy music, I found my old cassette tapes. Debbie Gibson. C&C Music Factory. The Bangles. The soundtrack to Pretty In Pink.
and finally ...
10. I am on a brochure that somewhere in the world floats through truck stops and tourist traps, inviting you to see the Can-Can Show! I am sitting squarely in the middle of a peanut barrel, and my arse was sitting directly on a nail.
We found tons more things. HDHusband tossed out some ex-girlfriend crap and hauled big heavy things up and out of the basement for me. I stepped on a thumb tack in my BARE FEET. HDToddler held the broom and mostly learned the phrase, 'If you hit me with that ONE! MORE! TIME!".
There's a lot more of Memory Lane comin' up. I know there are cards and letters in a box that I saw from my dad. I'm sure I will bawl like a damn baby, but man - it sure felt good to hold these things and remember where I came from, and how far I've come.
Editor's Note: STUPID BLOGGER. It let me upload one photo, then I had to do the rest from Flickr. I'm still not smart enough to get it all to look right, so whatever. I HATE BLOGGER! You dirty, dirty bitch.
