Reverse bitch fest - is that okay to say?

So I've had my next blog piece in draft for a week now, and keep editing, and revising, and generally procrastinating, all the while still cleaning out the black hole, and listing things on Etsy, and Ebay, having a tooth abscess, and trying to quit smoking - today was my first self imposed  'cut down' date, and did very well all day (halved number) until I got home to the caretaking, and cooking in advance for the 'Rents so that I could perhaps have a bit of a life this week, and trying to drink water instead of wine, but the taste, while excellent during the day, simply doesn't cut it after 5 p.m., and............and...........where was I?

Oh, basically bitching, which brings me to my actual point.

If we can actually bitch to that extent, then aren't we really okay?  I mean, aren't we?

I realize daily that if I were unable to bitch and complain, it would mean that I would be disabled in some way.  Actually UNABLE to bitch and complain.

And THAT means that the status quo is still in place, and I am okay.

Would love thoughts/comments on this, because I might REALLY be rationalizing here, and if I am actually in a more horrible place than I think I am, I need to know about it pronto, so that I can get more wine immediately!

Or chocolate.  Chocolate is good................

Memorial Day Weekend - what it is

Allright,

Had a whole post written and ready. It will have to wait.

Memorial Day is always a twisted 'holiday'. That's in quotes because really, people, 'holiday'? Those of us with veteran fathers and uncles and brothers and cousins and spouses know better.

How do we explain this to the 'let's barbecue', let's party', 'let's get our first major sunburn of the year' crowd, whose main objective is to 'LET THE SUMMER BEGIN'!!!?  Please.....

At my house, as my veteran father watched parades and ate what we allowed him to, WHEN WE WERE WATCHING, my siblings and their spouses were all hands on deck in the 'black hole' - the garage you have seen previous pix of.

Look -  Actual Garage Floor - Not Seen for Decades!

8 hours, several beers, a trip to the hardware store for more contractor bags later, and much lively (spirited? crabby?) discussion, the curb was neck high with discards, everybody picked stuff they wanted, and I have several photos to take of fabulous finds to add to my etsy shop.

Old Bowling Bags with balls

Chairs from my Grandfather's Chevy dealership!

Would have done today, but did about 5 loads of sheets, towels, blankets and a few bodies leftover from the weekend. They are drying out nicely.

Totally exhausted, back to work tomorrow, leaving a few large pots still to be washed, this past weekend was a 'memorial' weekend, not just for those who have served, to whom we are eternally grateful, but also for the fact that when a family becomes an ace team, mountains (literally) can be moved!

The search continues,

D

Cool old Schwinn 3 wheeler, gonna get a funny hat and a stuffed cat and ride around town!

IN SEARCH OF WORLD PIECE(s) - Welcome to Daria's Digs!

So here's my new blog, and this is my virgin (maiden?) post.  Having been forcibly plunged into the world of Etsy 3 weeks ago by my dear friend who wields a mean whip, and is somehow immune to my whining and mewling, which is generally highly effective with all the other poor saps who occupy varying positions in my life, I am now officially, with protests gone unheeded, entering the blog world as well.

Having made that announcement, I am failing to hear all the cheers and applause, and looking out my office/bedroom/warehouse window, notice a distinct lack of fireworks.  I suppose the parade took a wrong turn also.

But I digress.  The 'digging', which defines me, actually began in my own home.  Living with my aging parents, Mom caretaking my Dad, me caretaking both, I embarked on a fruitless mission to 'lighten up' our world, by trying to throw away everything that wasn't nailed down, or hadn't taken root.  Try doing this when EVERYTHING has a story that you must listen to as each item is removed from the contractor bag, and replaced in an even more inconvenient place in the home than from where it was originally unearthed.  I tried doing my trashing under cover of night, but the lack of sleep made me cranky, and the lack of light resulted in my having to go up in magnification of my prescription (otherwise known CVS 2.0) glasses.

All has changed, however, with the onset of the whole Etsy thing.  We began with Mom's vintage sewing patterns, and now I can tell the stories to others, quite more pleasant than storing them in my already overtaxed brain enabling them to interweave themselves into nightmares I will leave to your own imagination.

We have now moved on to include vintage sewing notions, jewelry, books, and will be adding numerous items that can now leave the home condoned by the very ones that zealously hoarded them all these many years.  As each little sale moves a bit more into the account, the sun shines a bit brighter, and the house, having lost about 5 pounds to date, is happy with it's new leaner shape. 

Whereas Mom used to look into the garage, sigh, and walk away, she now sees a giant treasure chest, and has even made some digging forays of her own.                                       

Not to be outdone, I have expanded my 'digging' to the outer world, and am finding additional fabu pieces to bring to my shop.

I will pause here for now, as my 3 year old attention span would have made ME stop reading this by now, and I am sure, as unique (translate - insane) as I am, there must be others like me out there.

Continuing in my search for world piece(s),

Daria