I woke up from a glorious Sunday afternoon nap a bit ago, knowing that it has been far too long since I checked in with all you dear readers. I had an idea in mind for a blog, but decided to send a text to Gail and Suzanne first to see if their ideas might be better than mine.

At almost the precise second I sent it, Suzanne sent this picture to me in a text, stating the obvious: “Isn’t this already a mess?”

That was my sign to proceed with the post idea that has been rolling around in my mind for two months: the garage sale Gail and I had at her daughter’s house.

On September 18th, 19th and 20th, I went to Gail’s house in Atwood, Kansas, to partake of the annual Highway 36 Kansas Treasure Hunt, whereby the cities all along U.S. Highway 36 hosted garage sales for the entire weekend.

Treasure hunters from Kansas and all surrounding states flock to this mecca, so I wanted to give it a shot myself. Suzanne wasn’t able to join us, but she did send some stuff along with me. I’m not sure where she found stuff she could let go of, because she already subsists with so little, but she did manage to find an armful of stuff I took along. I think I brought back $16 for her, which is $16 she didn’t have before, so that was a win for her. I came home with $114 in my pocket, and I’m pretty sure Gail at least tripled that amount.

Better than that, though, was the fact that I got rid of a lot of stuff. Stuff that is perhaps living a new, more exciting life in someone else’s home. Now, to the unaided eye–like my husband’s, it is not obvious that I did indeed let some things go, but I guess that’s the most important place to start. And, important also is the fact that while there were multiple other garage sales going on in Atwood, and I stopped at most of them, I didn’t bring anything back from them. I did, however, bring a few of Gail’s goodies home with me, but I beg to differ that those don’t count since she is my sister, and they are mementos of her.

For many years (several decades?), I have stared at the large totes in the storage room in my basement that I knew were loaded with old cards, letters and other papers. I’ll deal with those when I get old, I would tell myself. Apparently, I have decided that I am old, because I am dealing with them now.

This is my pool table in the basement, next to the storage room. I am perusing, sorting and enjoying most of the written treasures I am finding. Most are going into the recycle/shred pile, but I have found some keepsakes in written form from as far back as college (40-plus years). Letters from friends, pictures and cards are being sorted to share back with their original givers, some which I already have. It is a great walk down memory lane, and sure to bring a few laughs. These piles are for various people, as well as the shred/recycle piles.

It feels good to wrap this task up, and to hold on to a few that bring back warm memories. Our mom’s beautiful handwriting is a treasure always, and I have several from her I am holding dear.

Back to Gail. An antique collector/shop owner from eastern Colorado rolled up to Gail’s with her husband and a trailer, and found a few goodies of Gail’s she couldn’t resist.

“If you like that,” Gail said, “I’ve got more like them at my house, and probably some other things you would like.” So, since it was the end of the day and only four blocks over, Gail took Rebecca and her husband to her house, and parted with a considerable pile of antiques Rebecca wanted. In short order, Gail had them on her back patio with a cold beer, because that’s how Gail rolls.

Several weeks ago, I stopped at a thrift store, knowing there were treasures in there for me. There were several really good ones, as well as one with Suzanne’s name all over it: a t-shirt from our beloved Cripple Creek, Colorado. Her size, her style. I was so excited to give it to her; I knew she was home so I stopped by. I showed her my goodies–including a Jim Shore piece, something we are always on the lookout for, then presented her with her shirt. She laughed. Not just a laugh, but a full-on howl, with her head thrown back and all.

“I donated that! she said. I should have known.

In my ongoing quest to at least try to get rid of stuff, I find some particular challenges: books, knick-knacks and jewelry, not to mention clothes. (Isn’t that pretty much everything?) Books, for me, represent a place I visited, another world I was fortunate to explore. I put them on a shelf or a stack in view, because just seeing them reminds me of that journey. If it wasn’t a memorable one, I will pass it on.

Speaking of journeys, when I take an actual trip, I like to buy a piece of jewelry (and probably a coffee cup, maybe a shirt) to commemorate the trip. These things, and they are just “things,” remind me of the fun I had, which helps to keep that good memory alive. And that’s worth it to me. That doesn’t solve the “stuff” problem, but if it brings me joy, then so be it.

I went to a terrific garage sale yesterday and closed out the end of the season. Of course, this too negates the “getting rid of stuff” plan, but I am happy to give life to those things that beckon me when someone else is casting them off. I did come home and put a few things in the “out” box…I swear I did!

In the hundreds of homes I have been in during my home health therapy career, and the short-term gig when I helped with online estate sales, I am continuously reminded that too much stuff is not good for anyone. Our parents moved off the farm in 2000, taking with them only the essentials to their new home in town. Eight years later, this was such a gift to us when we were left with their house to empty. When our times come, Suzanne’s family will have a much easier task than Gail’s and mine in the getting rid of stuff chore. And I know it is a chore.

As the talented (and sexy) country star George Strait sings, “I ain’t never seen a hearse with a luggage rack.” We all know we can’t take it with us. Most of us–except Suzanne–have a lot of work to do while we are still here.

I dug up some old garage sale pictures from blogs past. Suzanne and I are attempting to ride a hoverboard.