Boxed In

Packing... should be a four-letter word!  I am in the middle of hell and it’s made of corrugated cardboard.  You would think that taking the materialistic items of your life and wrapping them in newspaper would be easy, repetitive, but easy. 

Nope... there are rules!!

The shipping companies have their own little bible of packing....  you would think that people would have enough common sense not to need it.  But we all know that common sense is not all that common anymore.

I was delighted to learn that throwing my crystal glasses into a box is not the best way to ship them.  The glasses should be well cushioned with “clean” newspaper (not the stuff I wrapped the fish in from the market) and I should mark the box “fragile” since I don’t want the movers using it for hacky-sack practice.

Heavy items should be at the bottom of the box and lighter items at the top.  Good to know... don’t put the books on top of the crystal. 

This lovely pamphlet also says that professional packers can pack your house in a day....I would almost willing to pay to see this.  Not a chance, at least not my house.  I could spend a day just packing my scrapbooking stuff... actually, it took me three days.  It feels like I am trying to dig a hole in the sand... every time I pack a box, I turn around and the space has been filled up again.

So my days are spent packing and cleaning.  Can’t wait until I get into my new place, where I get to unpack and clean some more.  Now if someone could invent “cut” and “paste” for real life.

Stash Guilt

I am packing, and packing and packing.  During this process, I have found that I am an addict.  I have found bags of my guilty pleasure in every nook and cranny of this house.  There are Ziploc bags and Rubbermaid containers full.  I guess the first step is admitting it... I am a yarn addict.

Now, if anyone of you is a knitter or crocheter, you are probably guilty of having one... a yarn stash.  Mine is out of control and I think I need help.  I found a six step program online that I am hoping that it will work.  http://knitting.about.com/od/knittingskills/a/stash_guilt.htm

Step 1:  Get something on the needles.   This means actually knitting something.  That is the basis of my problem.  I want to knit, I love to knit, I just don’t have the time. 

Step 2: Practice the one in-one out rule.  I have to get rid of a ball if I want to bring in a new one.  Nope, not going to happen.  How could I possible choose one of these beautifully spun works of art and get rid of it.

Step 3: Go on a diet.  Now this I can do, I think.  Every time I go to purchase something lately, my first thought is “how much is it going to cost to ship this???’... But, yarn doesn’t weigh much, right?

Step 4:  Try a swap.  I can’t think of any of yarn I would be willing to give up... so scratch this off the list.

Step 5:  Knit more.  Now, at first blush, this seems to be the same as Step 1... But, there is a catch.  Actually finishing a project.  Whoa, that is asking a lot.  For every bag of yarn I have, there is a project partly finish.  I am a free thinker.  I get bored easily. How can I stick with one project when I just found this GORGOUS new yarn?

Step 6:  Get over it.  Here we go.  The perfect solution.  My stash brings me happiness, joy if you will.  So it is time to accept it and move on.

So there it is again, moving on.  Seems to be my motto in life and it is a good one.  Maybe I will deal with the stash once I move in to my new home in St. John’s, Newfoundland.  I hear there is a support group at the local yarn shop on Wednesday nights... ooh, look... a sale on yarn!!!

Kiss Me I’m Irish

Today is St. Patrick’s Day and it is a day when we all have a little Irish in us.  What makes me wonder is...How much??  My Great-Great-Great Grandfather was born in Kilkenny, Ireland in 1802 and he died in Ferryland, Newfoundland in 1896.  Every generation from there on was born in Newfoundland except for me... I was born in Ontario.  I am Canadian ... with some Irish parts. 

I find it odd that when new immigrants come to Canada and still claim a connection to their country of origin, we feel slighted.  As though, if they wanted to come to Canada so badly, why do they not consider themselves, and their children, Canadian?   There is over 200 years since my ancestors came from Ireland but if someone asks me what I am... I will say, with pride, my family is from Ireland. 

So, as I set out on my journey to reclaim my roots, I think of the places where my family originated.  I think about my Great-Great-Great Grandfather and what he must off gone through when he got on a ship and sailed across the Atlantic to Newfoundland.  He probably had very little and had to start a new life from scratch.  My journey to Newfoundland will be a lot easier.  I will have a job, a home and family there to support me in my decision.  Practically a breeze compared to what he went through, but emotionally I think I can connect with him.  I am leaving everything I know behind to start a new life and hopefully, a better one.

Wishing you a rainbow
For sunlight after showers—
Miles and miles of Irish smiles
For golden happy hours—
Shamrocks at your doorway
For luck and laughter too,
And a host of friends that never ends
Each day your whole life through!

The Pendent is available at:
 http://stores.theirishjewelrycompany.com/-strse-584/Kiss-Me-I'm-Irish/Detail.bok

Will you succeed? Yes, you will indeed!

Dr. Seuss was a very wise man.  I think we have all learnt a great deal from his colourful hard bound books.  I reread some of them when my nieces were born and the messages that the good doctor was trying to convey to my child mind came through a clear as crystal.   The quote from the title is from the book Oh, the Places You'll Go! (1990).

It seemed to be an appropriate start to my blog.  Now don't get me wrong, I love bloggers but other than a few proper writers which I am privileged to know, blogs seem to be glorified journals.  So, I have submitted and am posting my glorified journal. This will be my way of letting out all the thoughts that ramble around in my head and I hope I am forgiven for the mistakes in grammar that I am bound to make.

So, who am I?  I am a 40ish year old woman who was told by her husband of 16 years that he didn't want to be married anymore.  Since the fact remains that if only one person wants to be in the marriage, the marriage will not survive.  I am lucky enough to have remained friends with my husband but we have gone our separate ways.  After much contemplation, I have decided to move from Ontario (the place of my birth)  to St. John's, Newfoundland and start a new life there.  I am not running away, I am moving on!!!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.

You're on your own.
And you know what you know.
And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go.

So, here it is ... me... moving on.  Want to take the journey with me!