There has always been a vision in my mind for the backyard. Over the years we’ve added a patio, then a little bigger patio. A table and chairs for the patio. An umbrella for the table. A friend of mine gave YA a fire pit years ago. Another friend gave me a swing when they moved to an apartment. Of course, there are all the flowers and the bales. About 15 years ago I had enough credits at work to purchase a hammock, which I installed toward the back of the yard. Over the years I’ve had to replace the fabric several times as well as having to MacGyver the suspension a couple of times when the fabric wasn’t exactly the right size.
YA has always detested the hammock. First is that it is a collection spot for leaves and twigs that come off the trees. Then there is the issue of having to mow around it, requiring moving it about. YA thinks it makes the backyard look “cluttered”. When I suggested we get right of her Adirondack chairs and little table, she didn’t respond well. She has a point. We use the Adirondacks quite a bit and truth be told, I probably only lay in the hammock once or twice a summer. It’s not actually all that comfortable and I get impatient really fast.
As I’m pursuing my pre-downsizing project, I decided that I really needed to pay attention to the reality of the hammock instead of my emotional attachment to the idea of a hammock. To that end, YA and I carried it down to the boulevard. When we got down to the boulevard with it, YA had to shore up my determination. The miracle of my street worked as usual – within an hour someone was taking it apart to shove in their truck.
I thought I might be unhappy in the first few days after the hammock was gone but that hasn’t happened. That says to me that I made the right decision.
Tell me about something you have an emotional attachment to.
Rise and Shine, Baboons,
I have a real attachment to this old blog experience that calls up TLGMS and its listeners. Many people who participated in this have fallen off over the years, but a core of us just keep on bloggin’. Who knew?
I am trying to think of other objects that would be a good answer because I have many, many objects I am attached to, many of them completely uninteresting (i.e. my dental floss vs. waterpik–not writing about that). I am headed outt to the garden to plant a few things in the cool air. Maybe more later.
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Yes!
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I am attached to knickknacks and things my relatives brought from Germany when the immigrated in the early 1900’s. This includes carved wooden farm animals and a wooden statue of a famous Hamburg water carrier, an old guy with buckets slung over his shoulders.
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https://www.hamburg.com/visitors/sights/memorials/wassertraeger-23578
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Hummel means bumblebee in German
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It makes me want to croon ” Hummel, Hummel Hummel” every time I see a bumblebee.
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There is a plan for almost everything not needed, or had not been. We know what we will do with the furniture items in Sandy’s room. My daughter has for 3 decades made it clear she wants nothing, but suddenly she has ordered me to throw away nothing I have made and keep all furniture. This is in part a change in sentimentality, but her children are about to move into apartments and she/husband are buying a house. The one set of items left are the many quilts my mother made, over 20. My daughter has even more. Her kids have what they want as does my son. A few months ago I donated Sandy’s dress clothing, which was hard. I guess I donate the quilts too. Or wait to see where I will be living next year.
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I have emotional or sentimental attachments to a few things. Some of them are articles of clothing that no longer fit me. Someday, surely, they’ll fit me again. Like my size 6 Marithe’ et Francois Girbaud designer jeans from the 1980s. I could maybe get one leg in those now, but I hang on to them because one day, maybe, maybe, I will lose the weight and be able to wear them again. They were so comfortable and fit me so well.
I also have emotional attachments to other things, such as books, jewelry, and some family heirlooms. I have had attachments like yours to the hammock – things I really thought would work out. One of these is a mountain dulcimer which I bought used on fb marketplace. I brought it home and played it a couple of times, but now it just sits there, looking pretty. I should have a YA to talk some sense into me.
There are some things that I am attached to for good reason, such as my guitar and two of my mandolins.
It’s Crazy Days in Northfield today. The prices downtown aren’t really all that crazy, but it’s fun to go.
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I used to keep a pair of jeans like that… more like a size 12, though… : )
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I have an old blue and white striped bikini, size 10 I think, somewhere in my cedar chest that I never have disposed of, although I am long, long past wearing it. That bikini made quite a sensation when I was in my early 30s and I loved it.
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At least once a summer, I think why do I do this gardening in these straw bales. Surely I am not saving money. But then on a day like today, when I pop the first four ripe cherry tomatoes into my mouth, I understand why.
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I think your backyard looks very inviting and your straw bale gardening is super cool.
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I have a strong emotional attachment to a small brown floppy stuffed dog given to me by a great aunt and uncle for my first birthday. The aunt and uncle have nothing to do with the sentimentality. The dog has never had a name except Brown Dog, most of the fur has rubbed off, it has black rickrack for eyes, long ears, a small red felt tongue, and a rattle in the bobbed tail that still works. As a young child I would sometimes drag it through the yard or street for a “walk”. Now it sits on the end of my bed. I’ve told my sisters that if I ever ended up unconscious in a hospital please bring the dog and place it by my hands – maybe it would help me wake up. Probably silly, I know, but that’s how I feel.
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That’s sweet! I have a Snoopy that my mom bought for me when I was 14. I had insomnia during puberty. I woke her up a lot because it was so scary to be awake when everyone else was asleep. She promised me the Snoopy if I didn’t wake her up for two weeks. I still have that Snoopy and he now wears one of those old red buttons that says, “I am loved.”
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This is a good question, in that it will make me thing about what I COULD get rid of. I’ve been in a mood to let go lately, as we cleaned out parts of the garage, and have started on the basement.
I am attached to some small (original) Fiesta plates, some serving things from my grandmas, also a painting by a distant cousin. Glasswork pieces by our friend Walken who passed.
Bits of furniture made by my grandpa or dad… I guess a lot of it is family stuff.
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Oh, and I still have my Toni doll from the 50s, with the clothes my mom made. Wow, just found her:
https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=W7Sy2tVX&id=370CE22FA58EECBDB904402B793A7B854E5060C9&thid=OIP.W7Sy2tVXIXm5nZpUzQv8dAHaLK&mediaurl=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2F736x%2Fab%2F28%2Fb1%2Fab28b1805a46e5bfdae0e34a1b5a4a41.jpg&cdnurl=https%3A%2F%2Fth.bing.com%2Fth%2Fid%2FR.5bb4b2dad5572179b99d9a54cd0bfc74%3Frik%3DyWBQToV7OnkrQA%26pid%3DImgRaw%26r%3D0&exph=1110&expw=736&q=toni+dolls+1950&simid=608056023220160481&FORM=IRPRST&ck=B0FB0F4ABC1F9A48625132ADF573A8B4&selectedIndex=67&itb=0&cw=1269&ch=773&ajaxhist=0&ajaxserp=0
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I don’t remember that one, but I was never into dolls except to rescue them as poor innocent victims when I was pretending to be Annie Oakley.
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Her face isn’t quite like that, but the dress is what I have.
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My books. I (we)have many items in our domain that we treasure— for their comfort, for their beauty, for the story they tell, out of sentimentality—but none of those things contribute as much to my sense of self as my books.
To me they are individuals, each with its “personality”. Each has its own backstory, its own character, its own chain of associations, its own reason for being. For many of them I remember the place and the circumstances wherein I first acquired them. Part of me thinks of myself as their protector.
That’s especially true because many of my subcollections are obscure. They are not the collectible books that enjoy the interest of many collectors, so I worry that they will not be appreciated once they leave my care.
And they ultimately will leave my care. If circumstances require that we downsize to an apartment or any sort of smaller living space, my thousands of books will have to find a new home. I’ve begun to explore how that may unfold, even going so far as to have discussions with the proprietors of a couple of second hand and antiquarian bookstores, mainly about the prospect of getting myself a booth at the Twin Cities Antiquarian Book Fair.
But when I begin assessing which of my books I would cull for sale, I always find I am just not ready. At the last Antiquarian Book Fair, I ran into one of those proprietors. I’ve known her for many years and purchased many books from her. She asked, “Are you still collecting?” It took me by surprise. Even as I have explored the prospect of shrinking my collections, it never occurred to me that I would also stop collecting. That’s how emotionally integral to me the books seem to be.
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I have one set of books I want to offer to you. Not right now. Maybe not unique, but very u usual. I find the delightful. Not the moment now.
Clyde
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ready whenever
hope life is good at this moment
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sorry see that was intended for bill
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On my dresser is an angel figurine, holding a heart to her chest. She’s missing her head due to an accident and she was thrown out once, but I saved her. I just couldn’t let her go. I had fixed her head once before when it got broken into three pieces and she seems to be made of a sand like substance.
And I wonder why I’m saving this headless angel… but I have that sentimental attachement to her I guess.
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I apparently had an emotional attachment to our back yard in Robbinsdale… I still really miss it after 9 years – especially that big box elder tree. But I couldn’t bring it with me.
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This is so funny!
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i had my kids watch the jerk a year ago and they found it hillarious and they really laughed at this bit because i use it all the time in real life and they never knew where it came from. thats all i need…and this lamp…
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