One year to declutter, Part I.

For my recent birthday I gifted myself with this effort. One year. Why? For me, the moment came after I'd watched the umpteenth cable TV show devoted to clutter. Rather, their message was to declutter. Had it not been for the myriad of TV shows that implored me to clean up, clean out and have a better life - and who could resist the allure of a better life - the hundreds of things that I've accumulated over the years would still be safe in their special nooks and crannies.

It might have happened when I realized that my dry skin needed some lotion and, when I went to grab a bottle, found that I had a choice of more than a few. There was lotion with aloe and lotion that would tan me; lotion that promised firmer skin, smelled like an ocean breeze, that contained a lovely green tint to minimize redness, and more. How did I get all of this lotion? And how much money did I spend to buy these products that were now accumulating like watered gremlins after dark?

My urge to declutter could have been the result of looking through my birthday card stash and realizing that I'd have to wade through hundreds of greeting cards for all occasions among the postcards gathered from trips around the world. Some of these cards were, gulp, more than 20 years old. Had I really lugged them from my mom's house to several apartments to my house for that long? Did I even know enough people to send these to?

I breathed a heavy sigh and looked around. I was sitting at my desk and it too, had lots of things that included hand lotion (more...) and at least one thousand pencils. Exaggerating that point; it just seemed like there were 1000 pencils. Maybe only 200 and so I decided to count.

I laid all of the contents of my Animaniacs pencil holder onto the table and neatly arrayed the pencils, pens and markers side by side. I laid out regular pencils and ones with color - green, purple and gray. There were thin tipped markers, sharpies and even two with metallic gold and silver inks. Not to miss anything, I took two more pencil holders from the other desk. The first one was a yellow ceramic mug extolling the virtues of lawyers, the other a conservative leather navy blue with gold trim from a fancy desk set. Their contents joined the others already on the table.

I took a photo and pondered my next moves.

Coming next: Part II, Can Pencils Be Repurposed?

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The Magic

The slippers were purchased during a time when I was helping a good friend who was battling brain cancer. I was spending a lot of time at his house, helping him as counsel and manager of his company, and it was on one of the grocery runs for the household that I found them.

My friend's diagnosis was a very serious one that he faced with courage and strength but it was one that forced physical and mental changes on him. Nevertheless, he never let his humor and charm go away. They were the parts of his character that endeared him to people. Well, that and the athletic prowess and fierce competitiveness that put him in the spotlight.

The magic of the slippers was more about what they meant than what they looked like. They were comfort at a time when illness and uncertainty were present. Wearing them brought a feeling of power, like things could be fixed. Wearing them was just fun because they were the go-to shoes! I'd purchased three pair and shared them with friends, and since one of the women was around the house as well, there were often two of us wearing the slippers. It was a shared secret that these were the "pink power slippers."

Throughout several months, before my friend lost his battle with his disease, the slippers were an omnipresent part of the household. After he passed, my slippers came home with me. A less than perfect pink, with worn soles and matted fur. I kept them for awhile and looking at them brought back both happy and poignant memories. I missed my friend and mourned his loss - still do - but having those around for awhile brought a smile. They are gone now, worn to a point they all but fell apart, but they left a lasting impression. They had worked their magic.

Welcome!

Who knew what one pair of pink fuzzy slippers could do?

I saw them in a bin at the Acme, a local grocery store where I'd gone to pick up a few items for dinner. They were pink and fuzzy slip-ons and they were on sale for $3.99. I'm not much of a bargain shopper and don't like prowling stores and hunting through racks of clothes to find something at a low price. I know some women, and have friends, who love the thrill of the hunt to find the perfect outfit at a price that can only be described as a steal and more power to them. That's just not me.

But I do like it when a bargain is put right in front of me where I can easily spot it and the item is one that speaks to me. That's what happened in the Acme that day. There they were, the slippers, in an open mesh wire bin at the end of the aisle with aspirin and other pain relievers. You know that section in the grocery store: impulse buy items galore. The slippers were a pretty, girly pink. I reached in, found my size and thought, "I'm going to give these a try."

Size large to fit my size nine foot. I slid my socked foot in. Like the ruby slippers for Dorothy, these had an instant connection for me. I knew they were fun and I knew they felt good. I just didn't know what they would come to mean for me.

I took them home and the magic began.