The Burrow

Yes, that is what Little Cuter emailed me this morning: Throw out the artwork. Allow me to explain.  In preparation for her upcoming nuptials, hosted in our humble abode, I have been purging our personal spaces of detritus.  I have been cleansing with a vengeance. It's not cleaning, per se.  I am sweeping up major piles of dust and debris, but I'm saving the actual washing of the garage floor for Ernie and his big strong guys.  I'm old.  I'm achy.  I'm lazy.  I'll pay. But there are pieces of the task which cannot be accomplished by hired help.  Decisions must be made.  If I let TBG get involved, there will be nothing at all for my grandchildren to discover about their parents; he'd toss it all.  I'm closer to him than he thinks on this issue; what I save I save because I don't want the children to be angry if I dispose of a treasure they thought was safe at home. Big Cuter was horrified that the photo album I created after his G...

I cleaned the garage today. Yes, it is summer in Tucson. Yes, it was hovering in the low triple digits. But I was sweaty from the gym with Amster and it really needed to be done. Garages are interesting in terms of cleaning. It's a matter of perspective. TBG looks at it as a shrine to the automotive gods. I look at it as a place that keeps my car marginally cooler during the day. The recycling cart (thank you, Daddooooooo, for this homemade gem), the garbage can and a spare refrigerator (one of my all-time favorite Chanukah presents) must share the space with the vehicles. On this we agree. 12-packs of Diet Coke and flats of bottled water (I am the Recycling Queen..... judge me not!) are welcome to their patch on the floor by the 'fridge, too. Beyond this, Houston, we have a problem . The fact that our garage has lots of wall space makes it a perfect spot for the overflow -boxes of "please don't throw it out but I have no place for it at this time in my life...