Totes, Boxes, Bags, and Baskets

I think today might have to be tote day. I need to go through the house and round them all up, take stock. It’s a tote-bag round-up. Yee-haw!

I have grocery totes, gift toes, canvas totes, paper totes. Cute totes. Souvenir totes. Library totes. There are decorative boxes, plain cardboard boxes, designed-to-come-apart-and-be-put-back-together packing boxes, Priority Mail red, white, and blue boxes, and too-sturdy-to-throw-away boxes. Plastic bags-in-bags or the fabric bag-0-bags. Handled baskets, Easter baskets, napkin baskets, open baskets, and a picnic basket that’s made of metal and cloth.

All of these are useful, which is the problem. They might get used. What if I need them to carry stuff? Or store stuff? Or hide stuff? Or gift stuff?

Maybe the problem is the stuff? Instead of going through my totes and all today, should I instead be going through the stuff that’s in the totes (and all)? Some of that stuff I don’t use, it’s true. But I might use it. Someday. It could be just exactly what I need on short notice, like too short to go to the store and buy it. I might need it on a moment’s notice!

So I have to store it. Ok, well, I don’t have to store it. I could move some of it along for other people to use. So, how would I go about moving it along? Put it in boxes and haul it away? To where? What if it’s too valuable to just give away? Some of that stuff has real value.

pile of stuff at a garage sale with a caption that says "You spelled garbage wrong"
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I mean, it’s not made of gold or anything, but, like, it was worth the bargain sale price I paid for it, at the very least. So, I need to get my money out of it, don’t I? Sell it? Bluss and fuster. Sorting and listing and waiting for a buyer. Give it away? Less time consuming. Better go get my bags and boxes and totes. But what if I get rid of something, and then need it the next day? No, that’s never actually happened, but it could.

Hmm, I’m gonna go get a cup of coffee while I think this through.

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Just Lovely

Only Beloved by Mary Balogh

When I first realized the final book in Mary Balogh’s Survivor’s Club series was to be about George, Duke of Stanbrook, I was mildly surprised. Then I thought, duh, of course! But I still didn’t understand what the deep emotional conflict would be about. George always seemed to me to be a sort of fatherly, secondary character, and for some reason that didn’t seem heroic in a romance-story sense.

I am pleased to say I was a dope. This is a marvelous story, a tragic, joyous, eminently appropriate final episode in what has become one of my all-time favorite series. Like, top five, ever.

Sigh. It’s over now, but I will read the whole series again in years to come, especially now that I’ve managed to find copies of all seven books at my local independent bookstores.

Five stars, Mary, all the way through.

Potato Skins

I never wanted to eat my potato skins. Oh, I don’t mean the ones you get at restaurants, double-baked and loaded with sour cream and grated cheese. Those I have no problem with. No, I mean the ones that come on baked or roasted potatoes, the ones my mom always said were good for me.

And I told my kids the same vague thing. Eat the skins; they’re good for you. Turns out that might not always be true.

I have a dear friend who’s husband was recently diagnosed with a rather severe nightshade sensitivity. I invited them out to dinner the other day, and she said no, thank you, but they had gone out to dinner the night before and he had eaten something he shouldn’t have, and was feeling rather terrible.

That’s been percolating in my brain for a couple days, and this morning I decided to look it up. I was somewhat amazed at what I found. These are the nightshade foods:

eggplant, tomato, potato, red pepper, sweet red pepper
Some of the foods in the nightshade family
  • Tomatoes, especially the green ones.
  • Tomatillos.
  • Eggplant.
  • Potatoes, especially the skins.
  • Goji Berries.
  • Tobacco
  • Peppers (bell peppers, chili peppers, paprika, tamales, tomatillos, pimentos, cayenne, etc) but not black pepper, that’s a different plant altogether.
  • And belladonna, though we all know better than to eat that!

I’ll let you do your own research in the actual chemicals and their actions if you’re interested (THIS is a pretty good article and an interesting place to start) and let it suffice to say that when I didn’t want to eat my potato skins I may have just been listening to my body’s complaints. Some people have real sensitivities, and these foods might be especially bad for people with certain health concerns, such as chronic joint pain, which is an issue for me. So, now when I don’t want my potato skins, I’m just going to eat the middle (which has all the same vitamins), and stop feeling mildly guilty for disobeying my mom.

Hmmm, maybe I should apologize for pushing those potato skins on my kids, too.

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Wet Lawn

A few weeks back, still mid-August, I turned off the automatic sprinklers because it had been raining. Then summer came back–par for the course in Oregon–but I didn’t turn the sprinklers back on because nothing looked too dried out. Then Hubby put some new grass in the back yard.

I was out there yesterday in the heat watering the lawn in, making sure it didn’t dry out too much, especially on the edges, and realized everything else was looking a little dry too. So I re-programmed the sprinkler system and prepared to water-in the new lawn some more today, because the sprinklers don’t reach the new lawn yet.

Today, it’s raining. Actually, it’s pouring, an Oregonian term for lots and lots and lots of rain.

Guess I can turn the sprinklers off again. Heh.

Sunshine?

One of our little corgis is Gryffin, age six. He’s all boy, usually bossy, and noisy, and happy. He loves loves to go to work with Dad, run around in the grass, just generally loves to be outside (unless it’s raining, but that’s another subject for another time) in the sunshine, even just sitting on the porch. And when he’s inside, he’ll find a spot of sun on the floor and curl up there.

But the weather has turned a bit, since it’s now mid-September, and even though the afternoons are hot, there hasn’t been much sunshine on the floor in the mornings. Hubby found him like this today, early, wishing for the sun, and looking like he should be covered with snow. Poor baby!

poor-baby-cropped

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