Thanksgiving Cheeseball Reprieve

We all had something to be truly thankful for this year -- my thoughtful brother spared us any confusion by doing the shopping and skipping the cheeseball altogether. He bought the plastic container of whipped port wine flavored genuine wisconsin spreadable cheese (no commas required). My relatives (many of whom have been reading this blog) were relieved.

Enjoy the Thanksgiving Cheese Ball

When my mother left for vacation last week my brother promptly disposed of the stinking ham steak AND the Thanksgiving cheese ball, among many other things. Guests, be rest assured of the freshness of the annual Thanksgiving Cheese Ball.

The Critic is Rewarded

Good news! Pat the hoarder has bestowed me with the basket of blue glass.

 
At least temporarily. The reason? She's putting an addition onto her house so she can hoard more stuff (oy vey!) and, consequently, the window where the glass is usually displayed will be removed when the contractors come. Caveat? I must return the blue glass when her addition is done if she decides that she wants it back.

Here's how it all went down. Pat has been stopping by unannounced at my home at inconvient times. She helps herself to some coffee and sits outside while I am working. She notices the basket of blue glass sitting outside and it's bugging her for days but she doesn't say anything.

Finally, yesterday, she drops by with her friend while they are out for a bike ride. I tell her I have her basket of blue glass. "I KNOW!" she says, "What do you have it for?" So I start to tell her that I took it because she wasn't using it and that I wrote a hoarder post about it. She interrupts me and explains that the blue glass is important because she needs it to balance out the blue glass in her other window and that everything is a reflective match.

I try to tell her I already knew this and that I wrote about it in the blog but she's waving me off because this is her story goddammit! So I let it go. I can tell she is quite proud of her symmetry so I decide not to tell her about the mismatched curtains. If I tell her that it will tick slowly inside her until she is then forced to buy new curtains. Anyhow, the point might be mute because the front of her house will no longer be symmetric. But, we'll see if she asks for the blue glass back to make another kind of symmetry.

The Critic Becomes the Hoarder

So all summer there's this (really ugly -- I saved you from having to look at the awful appliqued geese/ducks? by the the angle I used to take the picture. Just a shuddering horrific experience to imagine the provincial country kitchen intended for this...) basket filled with blue glass sitting in the corner of the dining room at my Mom's house. I'm a little offended she hasn't offered it to me, my being the blue glass collector and all. I'm getting into a bit of an invisible snit over it so one day I stop by and she's not home so I just take the basket thinking it'll be years before she looks for it, if ever. This blue glass will look lovely all lined up above the kitchen cupboards in my new place. (Inside my skull I'm reminding myself that my Mom started out this way, just collecting a few little things placed nicely above the cupboards. The rational brain is yelling "Don't go there, don't go there," while the reptilian brain is calmly rationalizing "It's just a few blue pieces of glass, they will look just lovely in your new house!")

Check out the stash:

So, as you see, I line them all up and am very excited. Especially about the bottles and the four drinking glasses because the drinking glasses are gorgeously designed and the bottles are just so cool -- there are some obvious Vicks and Bromo bottles. (Aside: I have a tiny Vicks jar I've been using as a toothpick holder for years! What other uses can be imagined for the bigger Vicks jars?! Toothbrush holders! Tea Bag dispensers! Chop Stick holders!). The four vases are more common and also are mold made and have vertical creases up their sides -- probably they aren't worth as much because of that. (This whole last paragraph is the rational thinking of the reptilian hoarder mind, especially the bit about the Vicks jars.)

So, about a week later I go to my Mom's house and am stopped suddenly in my tracks when I realize something.

The right window is full of blue glass but the left window isn't. It is entirely unlike the hoarder to have unmatched front windows (though, disconcertingly, the curtains are unmatched because the room on the left is a bedroom while the room on the right is the living room.)

Right Window:

Left Window:

Obviously, the blue glass was supposed to be in the left window  but was removed over the summer to let in fresh air (notice the metal tubing used to hold up the window). But so annoying that the hoarder would match window knick knacks but not curtains. What was she thinking! (Really, I'm just mad because now I know I'll be discovered and have to give all the blue glass back.)

Shopping in Pat's Basement

Let me tell you about my favorite store, Pat's Basement. I have been "shopping" in Pat's Basement (and garage) for many many years. I brought many friends down there in my college days to get things like dishes and glassware, chairs and linens.

My favorite coffee pot, a glass pyrex percolator, was found in Pat's Basement.

When I got divorced, I just gave the dinnerware set to my ex, knowing I'd go find something in Pat's Basement. There's nothing like starting over with a fresh set of "new to me" dishes, especially collectible 1940's Franciscan stoneware.

I also have always loved blue glass and built an entire collection of 1920s and 1930s blue cobalt glassware from Pat's "finds." Pat has taken it upon herself to always be searching for more blue glass for me.

Just a few of my 1920's cobalt blue glasses.

I own an almost complete "Wedding Band" set. In the 1930's these were given away as promotional items to get people to come out to the movie theaters. You can tell they are from the depression-era because less cobalt was used to make the glass blue, hence the lighter color. In general, dark cobalt blue glass is from the 1920's, before the depression.

Extremely rare "Harpo" pitcher. Also a movie theater giveaway, named after Harpo Marx. There was a different design made and named after each Marx brother. I saw this same pitcher at an antique show priced at $450. Pat got this for $35 along with six matching glasses at a consignment shop.

In the heart of every hoarder is a "collector," someone who is searching for that collectible item that's worth far more than the fifty cents paid at the tag sale. Where it all goes wrong is when the collector can't stop collecting and begins to buy more and more stuff without discrimination. Somewhere in that brain of theirs is a switch that flips and the neurons are begging for stimulation now, right now. That synapse head rush becomes the driver, and the hoarder ends up back at home with a box full of stuff and she can't remember exactly why she had to have it.
 

The Thanksgiving Cheese Ball

Remember those refrigerator bins I never cleaned out? Well, I didn't find the ham steak (yet) but I did find the Thanksgiving cheese ball. The one she forgot to serve us in 2009.

When I went to throw it away my mother pitched a fit, "It's still good!" she exclaimed, "It's vacuum packed." So I put it back into the refrigerator bin. I suspect she is going to try to serve it to us this Thanksgiving. I guess we will wait and see.

Scissors Poll Results

The results of the poll are really close:

• 56 pairs of scissors - 27.3%
• 18, 27 and 31 pairs of scissors tied at 22.6%
• 13 pairs of scissors - 4.5%

My informal household poll:

• 13 pairs - Patrick (my brother)
• 18 pairs - Peter (my son)
• 27 pairs - Me (a lucky guess, before I started counting)
• 28 pairs - Mom, hoarder extraordinare

Here are all the scissors:

The true answer is 27 pairs. However, I found another pair after the poll was underway so my Mom had the answer pegged:

I am wondering if she really knows the answer to how many of everything she has. Inquiring minds want to know.

Three Vintage Treasures

Three reasons why I keep looking through the piles carefully instead of throwing everything out:

1. Alligator pumps and clutch, circa 1964:

2. White fur muff, circa 1920:

3. Fox Stole, circa 1930's:

Sorry no stories tonight. The result of a very busy and over scheduled day.

Did you Find the Ham Steak?

I heard the truck pull in late last night and excitedly ran downstairs to show off the (semi) cleaned refrigerator to my brother who had so thoughtfully thrown out the stinking meat the night before when my Mom was sleeping. Before the disposal of the meat, the stench was putrid and instantly permeated the entire house within seconds if you opened the door. My mother is absolutely immune to this. Good thing the neighbors are on vacation as I believe the stink of it would have driven them from their beds screaming.

Once the scent was semi-bearable around here, I decided to just jump in there and clean the fridge out no matter what my Mom said. No asking, just doing. I asked my son to run upstairs and get the Tilex (which I had used to clean out the disgusting bathroom a few weeks earlier). "Why do you need to use Tilex in there!" my mother demanded as if I was about to kill a puppy. "Because there is mold growing in there." I stated calmly. "Oh," she said and walked away and I knew I was home free. She was resigned (or so I thought).

Six month old Apple Cider, dated 2/7/10; miraculously unalcoholic

Cottage Cheese, dated 12/20/09. I was too afraid to open it up. I just threw it away.

What my brother later referred to as The La Brea Tar Pit -- "You could catch a mouse in that shit," he claimed.

Because I assumed my mother was resigned, I did not initially expect the intermittent disputes against the disposal of certain items. "Why is the rice in here?" I called out (My first mistake. So stupid to ask a question. Now she had the stage.) "Because there were bugs growing in it." From the tone of her voice I could tell that what she really wanted to say was "Because there were bugs growing in it. What are you stupid?!"

"I'll tell you what, Ma. I'll throw out the rice and buy you a new bag." (Second mistake. Trying to negotiate with someone whose truths are irrational.) "You Will NOT," she stormed in, "That's expensive rice there." Her thought bubble read: "Why would anyone throw out rice when there are just some bugs in it? If you throw it in the fridge, you'll put the bugs in a stupor (like you do with lobsters before boiling them) and keep more of the eggs from hatching. Duh. My daughter really is an imbicile."

We had a similar disagreement about several other items, including:

• two-month old, moldy hot dog rolls - What she said: "They'll freeze up nice." What she thought: "Some mold is good for you."
• pickles in a jar so old the cap was all rusty - What she said: "the vinegar keeps them preserved forever." What she thought: "You wimp. I'll eat those any day." My return thought: "Well, why didn't you eat them already?"
• italian sausages, five days past their Sell By date, no longer pink but medium brown - What she said: "These are just fine. They look just like they did when I bought them (as if she could read my mind noting that the color was terribly wrong. Even when reading your mind, the hoarder needs to be right.) I'll make sauce tomorrow." What she thought: "Look we can have a nice family dinner together."

"OK," I agreed. I later whispered to my son to turn down any rice or italian dinner offerings from my mother. Later, I told him the story about when I was a kid and my Mom made me eat really old sausages after which I projectile vomited my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

This is because the hoarder is unable to take responsibility for things -- sometimes horrendous things -- which may be their fault. And, as my brother said, "She built up her tolerance eating bad shit out of that fridge for years. You could drop her off and she'd survive in any third world nation."

And, "Oh, did you find the ham steak?"

Me: "What ham steak?"

Him: "Shit, you didn't clean out everything did you?"

Me: "No, I still need to clean out the door and the bins."

Him: "There's a really old ham steak in there somewhere."

Scissors Poll

Here is my Mom Pat, the hoarder. I thought you should know her name and see that she's a real person.

She was hamming it up when I was taking my inventory of scissors. She also pointed out several pairs of scissors right out in the open that I had missed. It's like a game of I Spy over here.

How many pairs of scissors do you think are visible in the hoarder's house? I say visible because I assume there are plenty of scissors hidden away I will never find.

Take the poll, below. I'll reveal the answer on 8/31/10.




Refresh Page to See Results:

Fixing a Hole

“I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in. It keeps my mind from wandering where it will go.” – The Beatles

Let’s talk about glue. Hoarders love glue. Glue is the reason for keeping broken things. If you have glue then you have the possibility of fixing things. Glue is the new hope. Glue is a rationale, a reason. It allows you to fill up the holes in your life with stuff to make you forget you have a hole. It is a longwinded way of avoiding the hole. The hoarder doesn’t really want to do the hard work of fixing the hole the right way, the correct way, the healthy way. This is why the hoarder fills the hole with broken stuff and then buys lots of glue and collects elastic bands and other similar detritus. This stuff gives the hoarder a reason, an argument, for why they need the glue and string and elastic bands: to fix the other stuff that is broken. The hoarder will rarely fix anything because once it is fixed then it’s a lost reason for collecting the stuff to fill the hole. The more broken things there are=the more tools for fixing that can be acquired= the more stuff there is to keep you from falling into the big black hole.

The Glue Pitcher


All glue goes into the pitcher. Do not touch the glue in the pitcher. If you do, you will mess up how it's organized causing severe stress on the hoarder. The pitcher is like a goldfish bowl, only for looking into at the pretty containers of glue.



I touched the glue anyhow, causing some subterranean strife but I was left alone after assuring her that I would not use the glue and would put it back after the photo session. (She rearranged it after I put it back because I didn't do it right, but she wasn't mad and seemed happy to have something to organize.)

Notice that the glue is all brand new. Only the Loctite Household Cement has been used. I'm not sure who used it. Maybe my brother. I'm also wondering where all the old glue is. I can't seem to find it anywhere. Maybe there was some sort of glue accident and it had to be thrown out which is why there is so much recent glue acquisition activity. Remember the box that came the other day with the red ice cream scoop? There was some U Glu in there. I bet she gets more glue over the next few weeks.

Replace the Ceiling Fan

I told my brother I wish I took "before" photos of the rooms I cleaned. He said, "Don't worry, it'll be filled with junk soon enough and you can take photos then." I can't tell you how hard I laughed. I'd rather laugh than cry.

My mother climbed the stairs slowly to inspect the "clean" room. This is the moment of dread, where all can turn bad. She stood for a few long quiet minutes (quiet being a complete rarity in this house) and said to my brother, "While the room is clean would you replace the broken ceiling fan." It was a command, not a question.

"What do you mean while?" he laughed. She laughed too. And we all said amen silently.

The reason the ceiling fan is broken is a mystery but I can bet that something from the very high stacks of stuff fell on it:



NOTE: This is the room AFTER I cleaned it. See the tall stack of linens in the corner? These were previously on this chair piled half way up the window:



The Missing Air Conditioner

"Oh there is Mommy's air conditioner. She couldn't find it so she bought a new one." my brother told me. The amazing thing about the air conditioner is that it's very clean - no dust anywhere on it because it was covered with so much stuff. I left the air conditioner exactly where I found it. You can get a sense of how high the stuff in the room was piled by looking at the photo:



The air conditioner is on the small table on the right.

Found Treasure

I read some blogs yesterday about children of hoarders and the shame they feel. I have never felt shame about my mother being a hoarder. When I was a kid I had all kinds of friends over and they all thought my house was a blast, a funky living museum. There are always treasures hidden among the hoarder's junk. Here are just a couple of the many treasures I noticed while cleaning out the small upstairs bedroom.

McCoy Vase


Nancy Drew Series (arranged in numerical order, of course)



Notice the stack of old magazines on the shelf under the Nancy Drew series. I bet there's some interesting ones in there. The magazines remind me of my maternal grandmother, Marian. When I was in high school in the early 1980's she had stacks of old magazines from the 1950's which she was keeping because there were some articles in there that she never got around to reading. She did eventually read the articles and when I asked her what happened to the magazines she said she threw them out because she was finally done reading them.

Genetically we're all savers in this family. It's hard to find the line when it turns from organized chaos to just chaos.