Mr. H and I spent the weekend at Mom's house cleaning out closets and dressers. We loaded up clothes from 2 closets and put them in bags in the bed of her truck. I wish I had taken a picture of that. The bed of the truck is heaped with bags of clothes. My brother is taking them to the Stewpot for distribution to anyone who needs them. Check out this picture of the white tennis shoes. There must be 15 pairs, most of them incredibly similar. And that doesn't count the shoes that are NOT white tennies! Just call her Imelda.
Quite a few years ago, Mom had a Bassett hound named Wilbur. In the middle of the night, she came into the kitchen, scaring him, and he attacked her, biting off the first joint of her right index finger. Mom did quite a bit of typing at the time and the missing 3/4 of an inch made it awkward. She used a little blue fingertip on that finger to make it the same length as the others. She had these little tips everywhere. I had already thrown away at least 10 of them when I starting counting. After I took this picture of 13, I found 2 more in the kitchen. Once, after she had spent the weekend with us, the girls and I went to Wal-Mart. As one of the girls opened the car door, one of those little fingertips fell out into the parking lot. L said, "Look, one of Maw-Maw's fingers fell out!" We laughed all the way into the store, wondering if someone overhearing that comment would think we had the rest of her in the trunk!
We had taken care of Dad's clothes 2 years ago after he passed away, but the rest of his "stuff" was still there in his dresser. I don't know exactly how many knives he owned, but here is a part of his collection. Some of them we have given away to guys who like that sort of thing. We also found about 20 brass belt buckles and a matchbook collection that filled a 2 liter bottle with the spout cut off. Along with pocket or belt knives, Dad also liked kitchen knives. I have about 6 or 7 sharp kitchen knives. I understand that you need different knives for different things: slicing bread, chopping vegetables, cutting meat. This is the knife drawer at my parents' house. Too much of a good thing!
I'm not trying to be disrespectful to their memory. If they had been there with me, taking care of this situation, they would have been laughing with me.