Purge

I'm tired of stuff. Things have been wonky since my father's passing, but I've found something of a coping mechanism. Or maybe the walls of my house are closing in on me and I felt compelled to do something about it.

The original plan was to move my mother to Edmonton. Cue the ultimate stress. You see, my mother collects collections. She has salt and pepper shakers, tins, pretty and interesting bottles, red kitchen paraphernalia featuring chefs, plus eagles, owls, wolves, cork sculptures, Coke-a-Cola everything, nutcrackers, and dolls. True, it's clean, orderly and she DID downsize, but the house still looks like a museum of curios. I dreaded moving her.

THEN the plan changed, and we moved my sister to her instead. She also collects collections.  I once told her. "Geez, you have WAAAAY too much stuff! Honestly, why do you have all this cutesy shit all over the place?" She gave me a rare glare and replied, "Because people keep giving me all this cutesy shit." Oops...point taken.

And moving her turned out to be chaos. All of her stuff, packed up, took up half her living room.

It got me thinking. Why do I have so much stuff? Does it bring me joy? Have I read any of my Dragonlance or Ravenloft novels in the last ten years? Suddenly, all this stuff is closing in around me.

I don't have any children, so what am I saving it all for? My house is pretty small as it is. What's going to happen when we get older, and we need to move and downsize?

Did you know? Antiques are out. Millennials are not interested in your china, your silver tea sets or your massive wooden furniture. Why, when IKEA furniture is lighter, cheaper, and easier to move? Therefore, those estimates you see on Antiques Roadshow no longer apply as much.

Millennials don't want antiques

What will happen when the things I once treasured no longer hold value? I'm purging now, starting with the Ravenloft novel collection. The Dragonlance novel collection and the Magic the Gathering cards will follow.

We had a garage sale today, and I'm sunburned and satisfied. My husband's friend came by, and gave me some decent advice. First of all, he advised me to keep my 'Cable' #1 mint condition comic book for now, because that character has a movie coming out. Then he suggested I build myself an on-line store to sell the things I mentioned above. So next week, we're going to feed him, beer him, and I'm going to pick his brain and take notes. Because you know what brings me joy? Paying my mortgage faster, and gaining some extra space in my tiny home.

Did you know? You can hire a liquidation company to take care of these things? Here's one article about it: When we get too old to take care of this little house with the big yard, that's what we'll do. Purge. Then we move into a cozy condo, with sparse furniture and a few mementos.

 So this is my coping mechanism and my comfort. At least it will be lucrative. And I already feel the urge to WRITE.

I've Been Dreaming

ABSFreePic.com Photo by: medilo

I can't believe it's been so long since I posted, but I've been dreaming. That means I've been writing what I've been dreaming.

Last night I was a demon. I had red eyes and long teeth. I could leap vast distances, and my jaw unhinged like a snake to swallow larger prey. Being a demon didn't seem to frighten me. It was the unrelenting darkness before me that made me wake in a cold sweat. When I slept again, I was a chambermaid in a cheesy motel and I had a pink uniform.

No, I'm not writing a lot, but I am editing. Her True Name: Volume Two is two chapters away from the completion of the second read-through. I've fixed a few things and checked the flow. It doesn't feel ready.

On the advice of a friend, I started a dream journal. It's a way to deal with my father's passing. She believes that I'll get book ideas from it. What I am getting is more strange cities and even more hotels than before. The airports and airplanes are still there, and there's a new symbol.

There's a blue car now. It's a rickety old thing, maybe a Ford or a Chevy or something European from the sixties. It putters in the sky and along mountain roads. It hits the ditch often because it's both an automatic and a standard, and I need to but both gears in 'park'. It makes me think of my father, especially since I've never dreamed of it before last month. What does it mean?

I can tell you that I'm working on a project, off and on regarding my dreams. It's a collection of blog posts, drabbles and short stories. Just things I've dreamed up in the past that don't fit my brand. I don't know if any of the dreams I've had since Dad died will be there. None so far, but that doesn't mean anything yet.

I'm just wondering where these odd thoughts are taking me. What's in store for me? Is my father trying to say something to me in my sleep? Why the shabby little blue car?  Are you as curious as I am where this is going? Guess we'll find out. Eventually.