derby sunday
May. 8th, 2006 08:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
luciabLet’s just start this entry with a simple declarative statement: I hate making decisions. And we’ll add: especially when I don’t feel good. Sometimes when a migraine is just a distant memory, and depression is nowhere in sight, I can just decide things without a qualm. Most days, however, don’t fit either of those criteria.
Friday night, the minute I walked in the door after a more-grueling-than-usual 8 hour drive on Friday (It rained. And drizzled, and rained some more. Then there was the occasional gully-washer thrown in for good measure, in the mountains, of course. And I had a migraine that even 100 mg of Imitrex didn’t stop,) Mother dragged me off to look at stuff they’d brought from Aunt Susan’s house for me. Sheets and pillowcases, embroidered towels, jewelry with cats, flatware . . . all within the first 15 minutes. She was so excited she literally couldn’t wait to show me. I’m trying to get her mind around the concept, “It’s (cute/nice/pretty/whatever) but it’s not something I’d ever use.” Translate: NOT MY STYLE. Or color. Or something. (Further translate: Cute is a four letter word. Count ‘em if you don’t believe me.) There were polyester house robes with flowers embroidered all around the neck. Lots of pink stuff. More stuff with cats all over. Mother said, “But you’re a cat person!” with bewilderment in her voice.
All I could think to say was, “But I don’t need to advertise that I’m a crazy cat lady!” Fortunately, she took that well. For several years now, having the real thing at home waiting for me has been enough “cat person” for me. I think I had a pair of cat earrings once but haven’t worn them in at least 20 years.
I finally managed to beg off the stuff-review for the night. She did warn me that she had boxes of jewelry from Aunt S that needed to be sorted. She said lots of people had asked about jewelry, and there was a lot of it, but it was all jumbled in together. So yesterday, after the obligatory lunch at the Chinese buffet, she hauled out the jewelry. It’s spread out all over the dining room table for sorting. I’m not saying you can’t see the table underneath it all, but the table is pretty damned crowded. There are some pearls —several strands in fact, one of which reaches well below my waist—so many that I wonder whether any or all are real; (they have darkened with age, so I know they aren’t plastic pop-beads) and a few gold chains. Then there is some silver jewelry made in Kentucky by a designer we’ve always favored. The other 90-95% of it is gaudy costume jewelry. Okay, that’s harsh. Call it “fun” or “funky.” I dunno—it’s just old-lady stuff that was collected over the last 50 years or so. Sparkly glass bits, flowers in every possible shape and style, pins, necklaces, and dozens and dozens of clip-on earrings. There’s so much that it’s just depressing. Decisions must be made!
I think one reason it’s so depressing is that it seems like a metaphor—this is just one small table full, representing the whole house full of stuff that requires decisions. Oddly enough, one thing that makes me think some of it might be reasonably good stuff is the boxes…. there are a couple of really elegantly designed containers here, designed to hold the jewelry protectively and show it off well when the box is opened. Unfortunately, I have no idea what CAME in those boxes, except what is in there now is obviously not it.
It all represents Aunt Susan to us, her family. But we don’t need or want another whole set of stuff—we have plenty of our own stuff, thank you. But it was Aunt Susan’s so we don’t want to dis her by just pitching it, plus there’s the factor that Mother and Daddy came up during the Depression, and you don’t just throw things away, for heaven’s sake. Somebody might be able to use it! When I look at the jewelry I see the exact same stuff I’ve seen dozens of times before in Goodwill and Salvation Army stores for a quarter a piece/pair, and I’ve wondered, Who on earth would buy that stuff? I know![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bzzzzyb loves it, because she has her own personal ineffable style, but I don’t personally know anyone else who does. Now Mother has just asked how much I think these things are worth, and suggested some prices. $10 for this, $3 for that; some of the prices she is suggesting I think might be viable on EBay on a good day. I’m not so sure about Barbourville on a random day. Lord knows, this stuff may be quite in style in B’ville. Or maybe people will be willing to buy something just to remember Aunt S by. Mother says several people have asked; everyone seems to expect that there will be an estate sale, I guess it what it would be. Whatever isn’t specified in the will, or that nobody in the family wants, will go to the sale. Meanwhile, there’s a whole table full of jewelry sitting here staring at me. Waiting for decisions of some sort. Sigh.
Today’s restaurant was Red Lobster. If we go out again while I’m here I expect it’ll be O’Charley’s; that would complete the set of their favorites. Steak house/buffets have been out of favor for a while now. And, wonder of wonders, Hillbillies is no longer de rigueur when in Barbourville. Thank the lord.
The killer migraine has abated pretty much but has left a foul mood in its place. The last couple of migraines have caused unusually pissy moods; they typically make me depressed and cranky, but these last ones have just made me downright mean. If I’ve talked to you in the last couple of days and been uglier than usual, I apologize. I hope this doesn’t indicate that migraines to come will always be accompanied by moods this foul. I feel sorry for you guys if that’s the case.
Well, I think I’m going to try to bestir myself to go to the wi-fi coffee shop. Maybe a good cup of hot chocolate will help my mood. And I think I’m going to have to give up and take another Imitrex. Damn.
Friday night, the minute I walked in the door after a more-grueling-than-usual 8 hour drive on Friday (It rained. And drizzled, and rained some more. Then there was the occasional gully-washer thrown in for good measure, in the mountains, of course. And I had a migraine that even 100 mg of Imitrex didn’t stop,) Mother dragged me off to look at stuff they’d brought from Aunt Susan’s house for me. Sheets and pillowcases, embroidered towels, jewelry with cats, flatware . . . all within the first 15 minutes. She was so excited she literally couldn’t wait to show me. I’m trying to get her mind around the concept, “It’s (cute/nice/pretty/whatever) but it’s not something I’d ever use.” Translate: NOT MY STYLE. Or color. Or something. (Further translate: Cute is a four letter word. Count ‘em if you don’t believe me.) There were polyester house robes with flowers embroidered all around the neck. Lots of pink stuff. More stuff with cats all over. Mother said, “But you’re a cat person!” with bewilderment in her voice.
All I could think to say was, “But I don’t need to advertise that I’m a crazy cat lady!” Fortunately, she took that well. For several years now, having the real thing at home waiting for me has been enough “cat person” for me. I think I had a pair of cat earrings once but haven’t worn them in at least 20 years.
I finally managed to beg off the stuff-review for the night. She did warn me that she had boxes of jewelry from Aunt S that needed to be sorted. She said lots of people had asked about jewelry, and there was a lot of it, but it was all jumbled in together. So yesterday, after the obligatory lunch at the Chinese buffet, she hauled out the jewelry. It’s spread out all over the dining room table for sorting. I’m not saying you can’t see the table underneath it all, but the table is pretty damned crowded. There are some pearls —several strands in fact, one of which reaches well below my waist—so many that I wonder whether any or all are real; (they have darkened with age, so I know they aren’t plastic pop-beads) and a few gold chains. Then there is some silver jewelry made in Kentucky by a designer we’ve always favored. The other 90-95% of it is gaudy costume jewelry. Okay, that’s harsh. Call it “fun” or “funky.” I dunno—it’s just old-lady stuff that was collected over the last 50 years or so. Sparkly glass bits, flowers in every possible shape and style, pins, necklaces, and dozens and dozens of clip-on earrings. There’s so much that it’s just depressing. Decisions must be made!
I think one reason it’s so depressing is that it seems like a metaphor—this is just one small table full, representing the whole house full of stuff that requires decisions. Oddly enough, one thing that makes me think some of it might be reasonably good stuff is the boxes…. there are a couple of really elegantly designed containers here, designed to hold the jewelry protectively and show it off well when the box is opened. Unfortunately, I have no idea what CAME in those boxes, except what is in there now is obviously not it.
It all represents Aunt Susan to us, her family. But we don’t need or want another whole set of stuff—we have plenty of our own stuff, thank you. But it was Aunt Susan’s so we don’t want to dis her by just pitching it, plus there’s the factor that Mother and Daddy came up during the Depression, and you don’t just throw things away, for heaven’s sake. Somebody might be able to use it! When I look at the jewelry I see the exact same stuff I’ve seen dozens of times before in Goodwill and Salvation Army stores for a quarter a piece/pair, and I’ve wondered, Who on earth would buy that stuff? I know
bzzzzyb loves it, because she has her own personal ineffable style, but I don’t personally know anyone else who does. Now Mother has just asked how much I think these things are worth, and suggested some prices. $10 for this, $3 for that; some of the prices she is suggesting I think might be viable on EBay on a good day. I’m not so sure about Barbourville on a random day. Lord knows, this stuff may be quite in style in B’ville. Or maybe people will be willing to buy something just to remember Aunt S by. Mother says several people have asked; everyone seems to expect that there will be an estate sale, I guess it what it would be. Whatever isn’t specified in the will, or that nobody in the family wants, will go to the sale. Meanwhile, there’s a whole table full of jewelry sitting here staring at me. Waiting for decisions of some sort. Sigh.Today’s restaurant was Red Lobster. If we go out again while I’m here I expect it’ll be O’Charley’s; that would complete the set of their favorites. Steak house/buffets have been out of favor for a while now. And, wonder of wonders, Hillbillies is no longer de rigueur when in Barbourville. Thank the lord.
The killer migraine has abated pretty much but has left a foul mood in its place. The last couple of migraines have caused unusually pissy moods; they typically make me depressed and cranky, but these last ones have just made me downright mean. If I’ve talked to you in the last couple of days and been uglier than usual, I apologize. I hope this doesn’t indicate that migraines to come will always be accompanied by moods this foul. I feel sorry for you guys if that’s the case.
Well, I think I’m going to try to bestir myself to go to the wi-fi coffee shop. Maybe a good cup of hot chocolate will help my mood. And I think I’m going to have to give up and take another Imitrex. Damn.
