 For Authors: September 25, 2013 Issue [#5902] |
  For Authors
This week: Observations: Cleaning the Fridge Edited by: Fyn  
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Leftovers in their less visible form are called memories. Stored in the refrigerator of the mind and the cupboard of the heart.~~Thomas Fuller
You've got to perform in a role hundreds of times. In keeping it fresh one can become a large, madly humming, demented refrigerator.~~Ralph Richardson
Only true friends go straight to your refrigerator when they go to your house. ~~Unknown
Never pride yourself on knowledge. Remember; even a head of iceberg lettuce knows more than you do. It knows whether or not that light really does go out when the refrigerator door shuts. ~~ William Blake
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Number 1 on the chore list this morning --Clean out the fridge. Ick. Yeah, well, it has alllllmost reached the level of spontaneous living conditions. Although, it also appears something jumped the gun on that because it also smells like something died in there. So, I hunkered down to do the dirty deed.
Empty trash can so there's lots of room in it.. 
Gas mask.
Gloves.
Oh wait...I need to do the laundry first. And fulfill the winner's packages. And write a newsletter and....*sigh*
Steel wool type scrubbies.
Haz Mat suit. Hmmm nope...don't have one.... Guess I can't... (Hubby shakes his head)
Yeah well, knew that wouldn't fly.
Yes, well, I did eventually attack the fridge. Found the reason I was having to do this in the first place rather quickly! (thank goodness) Mental note--don't bother keeping leftover potato salad. No one is going to eat it, it will get lost in the back and eventually, it will begin to metamorphosize and become something that makes the foil on top undulate with bizarre movement!
But as I sorted through old half-used jars of jam, sticky caramel syrup bottles and salad dressing I don't even like and have no clue why is even there, I got thinking about odd, assorted ideas that get moved to the back corners of my brain. There they become draped in cobwebs, covered in mind-motes or stagnate. Sometimes, though, they molder into something usable. (unlike the unidentifiable substance that went into the trash dish and all!)
Sorting though three tubs of cream cheese, old sour cream, (what does old sour cream become anyway? Sweet? Nah, just greenly-blue!) and another tub or four of chip dip, I found myself assigning them names as I tossed--that poem I never got around to writing, the first draft of a story that evolved into a book, the umpteen journals I started and never followed through on. Nifty shelves cleaned and now mostly empty await new jars and ideas. The drawers are sparkling clean slates ready for new etchings of, hopefully, not the blue-ly-green variety.
Funny how we stick things we aren't quite sure what to do with in closets, back shelves, on top of the fridge or (ick) inside it! Sometimes going through and cleaning them out can be fun. Inside the fridge? No, not so much. BUT delving into the spare room closet is akin to a mini-Christmas. We never really know what we will find. Especially since some of it neither one of us admits to storing (read that as piling or hiding) stuff there in the first place. Kind of like the old 'cleaned my room by shoving everything that fit under the bed' syndrome!
I did find our carefully wrapped and still frozen top of our wedding cake that we plan (planned? Maybe...not so sure at the moment) to eat on our 5th anniversary. Discovered Mackinac Island fudge from a couple of years ago that he just had to have. No, even he wouldn't touch it! I also found six marbles (and I thought they were lost!) that I have no idea why/when/how they got in there. I suspect a grandchild is the guilty party on that one. I got an idea for this newsletter, devised the timely death of a character (no, not death by food poisoning...although maybe....) and wonder why we are missing one of the drawers in the fridge. There's a poem floating around in my head now...sigh.
Layered, like the onion on the bottom shelf, writing ideas can pop up out of anywhere. If you don't wrap them carefully and keep abreast of them, they may rust like the lettuce did, dry up like an old carrot or simply disintegrate. So, the refrigerator is clean, I've got new ideas chilling and a newsletter that's written. Life is good!
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Zheila  adds: The story "Observations During Garage Sales" is a very emotional one because it remind me that humans can not escape the old age. All these things that we gather around us as a memory shall be one day in someone else's home because our families are going to get rid it once we are gone. It is sad but true. I did like the story very much. Thank you so very much for sharing it with us.
Hmmm...one man's treasure is another man's trash!
blunderbuss wrote:What a wonderful story! I'm going to be giving a lot more attention to some of those 'ordinary' objects at the bric-a-brac sales out here. Now there's another one to add to garage, rummage.....
Teerich - 2019 says:I loved this piece. Beautifully written. It evoked days spent browsing antique and junk shops both at home and on holiday. Unfortunately, garage sales are not part of our culture, so don't have the opportunity to experience this unless I visit my niece in the states.
Wonders where you live and why (or why not?)
Grace♥Leo health issues adds: I so enjoyed your garage sale newsletter. I felt as if I were tagging behind you with each step of the adventure. Bravo!
brom21  comments: I remember when I was a little tyke and me and my brother got two rev-up motorcycle toys at an outdoor swap meet. Who would have thought that one of our favorite toys would be bought at some pile of knick knacks and trinkets? Quite nostalgic.
DRSmith reiterates (!) No need to reiterate... same stellar show of talent putting us all in that scene, interacting with the little old lady, and leaving with a treasured smile. Amazing. Erma B... step aside and make room for "The Fyn" of Wynwidyn.
Awww!!! Thanks!
Ẃeβ࿚ẂỉԎḈĥ  says: I believe we were near the Wisconsin-Michigan border when we happened upon an out of the way farm, where we inquired about an antique gas station, in town. It looked like a snapshot of another era. urns out they were the owners and invited us to visit their barn, filled with antiques and collectibles. We were also given lemonade and invited to sit on their porch. The stories told were fascinating! I know exactly what you were saying in this NL! Wonderful, Fyn.  WW
soapy11 writes: Definitely professional grade writing. I became immersed in this story like you were telling a story of meeting my own grandmother and telling it to me. The way the way those stories and whole scene with the old woman and all effected you, this story did the same for me. And its only because of how well you wrote it. I just want to hug the little "impossibly old" woman, and you too for making her so happy. Great job
*grin*
JACE  comments: I always love reading your newsletters, Miss Fyn, but this one was truly an inspiration. I was right behind you as you took in each new wonder listening to Miss Sarah wax nostalgic. Thanks for sharing your experiences and her life.  I'm sure I'll look at things differently. 
Lots of new (or read that as different) folks writing in...LOVE it when that happens! It's nice to know my words aren't falling on blind eyes!
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