To dust, perchance to sneeze…

George Carlin on dusting

How often do you dust?

Susan Caba
The Resale Evangelista

The question was posed on a writer’s forum. As it happens, I’ve been noticing a thick ridge of dust on the edges of the ceiling fan above my bed, and thinking I should get up there and wipe the blades. So far, I haven’t progressed beyond noticing. In general, I’m with the late columnist Erma Bombeck who wrote: “My idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance.”

“I am reading a book in which a woman dusts weekly,” wrote the initiator of the discussion thread. “One day she does low dusting, another she does high dusting…my goal is once a month. I should do it more, but just can’t bring myself to and I don’t have the time.”

In one paragraph, she sums up 50 years of domestic history, taking us from June Cleaver in Leave it to Beaver to Debra Barone on Everybody Loves Raymond; from aprons and pearls to sweatpants and tee-shirts. Despite the gains of the women’s movement, there is still the immutable, inescapable, inevitable reality of dust.

The question is a verbal dust-bunny of life’s dilemma: Am I doing enough? Am I good enough? Should I be doing more?

“I shoot for once a week, but often don’t stick to it. It’s funny you mention this today, as I’ve been wondering whether a dust (or dust mite) allergy is contributing to bad post nasal drip.”

“Dusting floors with the Swiffer, 2-3 times per week. We have all wood floors and only a few throw rugs. The dust / hair / lint build up is crazy. … “

How often do you dust? How often should you dust? These are two of life’s existential questions. Our answers to them are as good as any other clue to who we are and what we value, aren’t they?

“Every other weekend. My husband and I do a top-to-bottom cleaning of the whole house. We both loathe it, but he would never agree to having someone else come clean for us. … But I shouldn’t complain, since he does all the bathroom cleaning, leaving me with dusting and floors.

“Um…. well….. when it gets to the point that I notice it and then I wait until it annoys me?”

I once interviewed the wife of a Mafia capo  who felt very guilty because she neglected to dust behind the family’s television. So she failed to discover an electronic bug planted there by the FBI.

History is writ in such motes of dust. If she had cleaned more diligently, the FBI couldn’t have persuaded her husband to testify against his mob boss. On the other hand, the agents were kind enough to inform the capo that he was next on the boss’ hit list and put the family into witness protection.

To dust, or not to dust, that is the question—
whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
the jibes and titters of outrageous gossip,
or to take arms against a sea of dust mites,
and by opposing, end them?

To dust, to Swiffer—
no more; and by our vow, to say we end
the heart-ache, and the thousand natural germs
that homes are heir to? ‘Tis a consummation
devoutly to be wished. … Aye, there’s the itch.

(With apologies to Wm. Shakespeare)

The Resale Evangelista is dedicated to simplifying, clarifying and creating a more artful life. She hardly ever dusts.

Jane Austen’s Words of Wisdom

Who needs a 21st Century guru?

“I always deserve the best treatment because I never put up with any other.” 
–  Jane Austen in Emma

Bookstores are awash in self-help books, guides to the good life, volumes of advice, psuedo-philosophy/psychology and just plain pap. My friend Jone Bosworth reminded me that we used to  glean that knowledge from literature.

As just one example, Jone points to English novelist Jane Austen (1775-1817). She wasn’t out flacking her advice on the streets of London; she rarely left the homes she shared with her mother and sister. Yet Austen’s books–including Sense and Sensibility (1811), Pride and Prejudice (1813), Mansfield Park (1814) and Emma (1815)–are rife with still-valuable insights.

“You don’t have to be an Austen fan to appreciate the lessons on how we should expected to be treated, who we need to surround ourselves with, and who is really the best judge of our choices,” Jone said in a recent post, Austen Top Ten for 21st Century Women.

Here are just five Austen-isms, compiled by Jone, that I’m contemplating (leading a simplified life allows time for contemplation.)

  • “My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” (Pride and Prejudice)
  • “If adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad.” (Northanger Abbe)
  • “Success supposes endeavor.” (Emma)
  • “Pictures of perfection make me sick and wicked.” (Jane Austen, letter 1817)
  • “It isn’t what we say or think that defines us, but what we do.”  (Sense and Sensibility)
The Resale Evangelista is editing and simplifying, in order to create an artful life.

Fear Not, the Praying Mantis

Praying Mantis, beneficial garden insect, from Leonard J. Kovar’s Gardening for Results)

E.T., Phone home…better yet, go home!

Susan Caba
The Resale Evangelista

The bugs are bigger here in North Carolina—a lot bigger. Even the good bugs.

One night, heading to bed, I turned a corner and came eye-to-glassy-eye with a long, lime-green thing clinging to the door frame. Its body was delicate, the length of my pinky, thinner and straighter than a string bean, with thready legs bent like paper clips. The torso (do bugs have torsos?) narrowed to a tiny triangular head with, it seemed to me, unnaturally large eyes on either side. After my initial gasp, I decided it was a praying mantis and ignored it, passing on the far side of the short hall to my bedroom.

In the morning, the mantis was gone. I couldn’t help wondering if it was male or female, since females eat the males after mating. In the next few days, it turned up on a wall in the kitchen, then on a picture frame in the dining room. I hoped he/she was making its way to freedom, but I still jumped every time we met and averted my eyes as I passed.

As a kid in New Jersey, we often found a praying mantis or the similarly beneficial walking sticks on trees as we played outside. I remember catching lightning bugs, too, and putting them in a jar. I don’t do that anymore. It’s not that I mind bugs. I just prefer they stay out of sight and not require intervention on my part.Screen Shot 2014-10-08 at 10.55.57 PM

The praying mantis, according to Leonard J. Kovar’s website, Gardening for Results, is one of the top 10 bugs you want in your garden. They hunt at night, and eat all the most problematic bugs–including cockroaches. Unfortunately, they are not picky eaters (just ask the males); they also eat other beneficial bugs. They have five eyes, allowing them to spot movement from 60 feet.

Alas, this praying mantis never made it to freedom.

One cool morning, I went to close the windows in the dining room. And there, clinging to the screen—or so I thought—was the lime-green thing. Only he/she looked unnaturally crisp or stiff. Looking more closely, I saw the mantis had been ensnared in a spider’s web (so much for its vaunted eyesight). I went to get the vacuum cleaner, or maybe an empty coffee can, to dispose of the corpse. Fortunately for me (which reveals a lot about my attitude toward insects), as I touched the window frame, the mantis fell from the web and down behind the bookcase under the window.

Which put me in mind of a favorite haiku verse, translated by former U.S. Poet Laureate Robert Hass in The Essential Haiku: Versions of Basho, Buson, and Issa (New York: Ecco, 1994)L

Don’t worry, spider.
I keep house

Because, of course, the Resale Evangelista is dedicated to simplifying, clarifying and creating a more artful life.

Reflections on a porch


Porches, Southern Homes

Light, leisure & time: Luxuries of a simplified life

Susan Caba
The Resale Evangelista

There’s something about a porch, especially one that wraps like a hug around a house, providing shelter and comfort. Here in Chapel Hill, many mornings find me sitting, as I am now, in a faded blue Adirondack chair on the porch, interrupting my reading to watch chickadees fluttering around the bird feeder.

Matisse Gold Fish, 1911, I hung the feeder over a tiny goldfish pond, hoping to discourage the cats and the squirrels from guerrilla raids on, respectively, the birds and the birdseed. Occasionally, a small frog leaps from a crevice in the rocks bordering the pond. His splash is small, but enough to startle the goldfish. All six dart to the other side of their world, molten sunlight captured just under the water’s surface.  Pine needles net the pond, their geometry emphasized by a single lemon-colored maple leaf that fell prematurely. I think of Matisse.

My novel isn’t enough to distract me from the expanse of trees, shrubs and open spaces that flows from the porch and pond, on across a gravel road to another woodland vista. I imagine rhododendrons and azaleas interspersed among the tall pines to further block the sight of occasional traffic, and wonder whether iris would thrive near the woods’ edge, where the soil is cushioned with pine needles.

I’ve been puttering in the garden. I potted up some rosemary and sage to take inside when the weather turns cold. I’m contemplating digging up some ferns down by the creek, and planting them at the edge of the pond. Part of the pleasure of staying in new places that aren’t your own is imagining the changes you would make, regardless of the fact that what exists is already beautiful. This is especially true because there’s no need to actually get anything done, let alone stick to a budget.

Henri Matisse, 1937 Odalisque with Yellow Persian Robe and Anemone.  Philadelphia Museum of Art, The Samuel S. White 3rd and Vera White CollectionAs I write, I realize my eye is drawn to the edges, the borders and boundaries of the landscape. That’s where the light changes and textures shift, where one plant grows and thrives, while others wither or struggle. It occurs to me that I am at one of those edges in life’s landscape, in the transition from one emotional and mental environment to another. Will I adapt and thrive? Too soon to tell…

The Resale Evangelista is simplifying, clarifying and trying to live a more artful life.

Jigsaw puzzles…


Goodwill's Answer to ValiumGoodwill’s answer to Valium

by Jone Bosworth, JD
  Founder,  InCourage Leading, LLC

Look up “doting” in the dictionary and you’ll find my picture. The label reads “Doting Aunt.”

Remember prehistory, back before Skype? In that bygone era,  I spent hundreds of dollars–thousands, really–talking with my nephews and nieces on the telephone. (You remember: Two pieces, attached to the wall by a cord, a rotary dial that evolved into push buttons.) Especially while I was living abroad, the phone charges added up quickly.

Inexplicably, when I’d ring from Tokyo, my sister thought it wise to put her 3-year old on speaker-phone. He’d describe every single thing in the house to me. The conversations went like this: “I’m in the living room Aunt Jone. Here’s the t.v., here are my books, there’s my dump truck, here’s Anarchy (the dog), there’s Mommy’s shoes. I have a red block, Aunt Jone…”

I’m not exaggerating. And I’m not complaining. The world can be a tough ol’ place, growing up can be  bumpy, and doting is one little antidote I can offer. Now that I live closer to family, much more of my doting gets done in-person.

Problem is–at the risk of exposing what an old fogey I’ve become–my 4-year old nephew loves having me sit at the computer beside him and watch him play games. I find this not only super boring, but a resounding defeat of my doting-time-together goals. I decided we should try our hands at jigsaw puzzles. We’d be doing something together, playing in a much more social way. I dug out a puzzle from my mother’s closet and we set about putting it together.

Potential alert to pre-dementia:  I’m not smarter than a 4-year old. At least not when it comes to assembling jigsaw puzzles. Wow! I remember this task being so much easier!

Jigsaw puzzles are apparently good for the brain. Several studies revealed that solving puzzles increases our concentration, sharpens our memories, and perhaps even improves our brain function.  According to an article on Social, “Working on jigsaw puzzles and focusing on the same image for longer periods can actually turn out more like meditations and induce a calmness and peace in the mind.”

There may be other physical benefits too—lowered breathing, heart and blood pressure rates. And of course, there’s a huge sense of accomplishment, of success, when you place that last piece.

Susan (The Resale Evangelista) frequently reminds me that I could be consuming less, living a simpler life. When it comes to puzzles, I’m listening. So, anticipating my next visit to my nephew in Nebraska,  I picked up a brand new puzzle for $2.15 at my neighborhood Goodwill. The box hadn’t been opened, the puzzle pieces were still sealed in a bag.

Just for fun, I decided to try my hand at putting it together at my house. You know, making sure it isn’t too hard for my nephew. Sure, it says on the box that this puzzle is for ages 8+. But hey, it gives me a chance to get (okay, appear) smarter than a 4-year-old. I can’t remember–is that cheating?

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Besides being a doting aunt, guest blogger Jone Bosworth is a strategy/business consultant and certified professional coach. She founded InCourage Leading to help women (and egalitarian men) develop their leadership potential and contribute to the common good.  Jone is trying to avoid, at all costs, what her former boss, Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, called the “special place in hell for women who don’t help other women.”
Jone’s blog is a witty take on leadership. I highly recommend her posts on Learning to Communicate with younger generations and 3 Great Lessons from The Rolling Stones. She’s also a frequent contributor to The People Development eMagazine. Check out her latest piece, Witty Wisdom on Workplace Politics. All three pieces are not only useful, they’re amusing, too.

Three simple steps…

…to a more artful life

Susan Caba
The Resale Evangelista

My friend Jone Bosworth–strategist, professional coach and all-round super woman–posted three simple tasks to put on what she calls “a honey-do list” for Labor Day. They’re all related to taking time to recognize the gifts we enjoy, sharing them and making time in our too-busy lives to revel in the present. 

There was a time when many of us would scoff at the concept of consciously expressing gratitude and living in the present. It was the Eighties, what can I say, and some of us bandied the phrase “psycho-babble” recklessly about. It turns out there are plenty of studies that confirm measurable improvements–mental, emotional and physical–in the lives of people who do exactly what Jone suggests.

For my own part, as I try to rewrite (or at least decipher) my own “life story,” I intellectually recognize the value of Jone’s three steps. I do still struggle with implementing them. I read somewhere that cynics are more realistic about life, but optimists are happier. I agreed with that statement and took a certain pride in being a cynic. Now I think that maybe I’d rather be an optimist.

Anyway, take a look at Jone’s suggestions. They are simple and valuable.








Hot pepper flakes, anyone?

Ripe red tomatoes and green tomatoes

Having a go at gardening

Susan Caba
The Resale Evangelista

Those of you who know me will get a chuckle out of this: I’m going to make my own hot pepper flakes, from peppers I harvested from the garden (note that I did not say I planted or grew them). Also, I blanched and froze an excess of kale, to keep a good supply for green smoothies. And I am going to slice and freeze green tomatoes so that I can, as one website states, “enjoy their zesty flavor all winter.”

A moment here for your recovery…

Well, I know I don’t do much in the kitchen or vegetable garden. (Those of you who don’t know me, rest assured I am no Suzie Homemaker.) But I’m staying in a really lovely house just outside Chapel Hill, N.C. and it has a garden. Mark, the homeowner, planted it and uses the produce in family meals.

Now that Mark, Shari and the kids have gone to India, I couldn’t let the remaining bounty go to waste (and not to the deer, either). So I ventured out today to harvest, disturbing the early evening meal of a young-looking doe. She escaped through an apparent hole in the netted fence.

Jalapeno, banana and hot red peppersThere were peppers galore. Tiny red peppers, jalapenos, banana peppers and some other kind of green pepper. I’d already Googled how to make pepper flakes. The first entry said something like “Making pepper flakes in 15 steps.” Pass. The next one, from Old World Garden Farm, is much simpler.

Basically, you cut and clean the peppers, put them on a cookie sheet in the oven for 8 to 10 hours on low heat, then throw them in the blender. Or was that a grinder? If you’ve a mind to try this, go directly to the instructions.

To my surprise, there were several ripe tomatoes on the vines. I’ll have a tomato salad tomorrow. I do love tomatoes, but I have a problem with produce–it goes bad before I can eat it all. Right now, there is a half bag of spinach wilting in the refrigerator. It will take a yeowoman’s effort to consume all those tomatoes. I don’t know if I’m up to it.

As for the green tomatoes, I remember reading in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “Little House on the Prairie” that you can wrap green tomatoes in newspaper and put them in the basement and they will slowly ripen. As I write, though, I realize I must be wrong–I don’t think they had newspapers on the virgin prairie.

Never mind. Now that I’m in the South, I understand the thing to do with green tomatoes is slice them, bread them and fry them for breakfast. Again, there are a lot of green tomatoes. The good news is, I can freeze the slices. I’m exhausted already at the thought of the slicing. I will, though, persevere.

Kale from the gardenNow to the kale. Abundant. One of nature’s wonder foods. Deeply green, harboring mega-doses of phytonutrients. A key ingredient in healthful green smoothies (which taste a lot better when they include fruit, sweet peppers, cucumbers and a little coconut–all for zing and less of that sludgy green taste and texture.)

However, again with the wilting problem. Again with the Googling. Turns out you can freeze kale. But first you have to blanch it which, for those who don’t know, involves plunging it into boiling water for two minutes, then shocking it silly by plunging it into ice water. Pat the poor leaves dry and throw them in the freezer.

I was loathe to do it. Not for the plants’ sake but because I didn’t feel like boiling the water and preparing an ice bath. (There, does that give you a very clear picture of my culinary ambitions? I find it hard to believe, myself, that I used to make puff pastry.) But I blanched (the kale, that is). Now, all I have to do is stick to my resolution to drink a green smoothie every day.

This simplified life isn’t exactly as simple as I envisioned. More later…

The Resale Evangelista is simplifying, clarifying and living a more artful life.


Five Easy Pieces

Goodwill Hunting for Stylish School Clothes

Susan Caba
The Resale Evangelista

Goodwill shopping for school clothingThere’s an art to shopping for school clothes at Goodwill and other thrift shops, and it’s not all about saving money. It’s the thrill of the hunt, the challenge of building a nice wardrobe from what’s available, the creativity of keeping current while working within a budget.

My 13-year-old niece Melody is a shopaholic. But she’s an amateur, a novice accustomed to shopping retail and, frankly, choosing items without regard to price. Like any good aunt, I wanted to hone her skills, elevate her level of consumer sophistication. Naturally, we headed to my favorite Goodwill store in St. Louis.

(Actually, Melody wanted to go to the big outlet mall in the city–an ordeal I couldn’t face.)

Anyway, the goal at Goodwill was to create a school wardrobe for a girl between 8 and 10 years old. (Boys are just too easy–jeans and t-shirts are all-too-plentiful.) We decided to shop for Melody’s cousin, Lyndsey, a combination girly-girl and tomboy.

We began by perusing the racks, selecting only items that were either new or in good condition. Our first find was a denim skirt embellished with sequined hearts on the hips. In fact, we found two–the first also sported a hot pink, narrow belt. Alas, it was too small, so we put it back on the rack. Thirty minutes later, we found the same skirt in the right size, but without a belt. Melody quickly located the first skirt and appropriated the pink belt.

Goodwill school clothes for girlsWe decided the skirt would look good with either a lime green or pink shirt. We kept our eyes peeled as we shopped, throwing any seemingly suitable top into our shopping cart. In the meantime, we picked up other key pieces–jeans, a pink satchel purse, a beautiful pink linen dress, various t-shirts and a very cute, flippy black jersey skirt.

That little black skirt was vexing. We just couldn’t find a top to go with it. Nothing was suitable–either the material was too flimsy, or too wintery. Or the tops were too big, or the wrong color. Melody reminds me that we probably spent an hour of the two hours we were in the store, trying to pair that skirt with a shirt.

Finally, she looked at me. “What are we doing?” she asked. “We have to give it up if we can’t find the right top.”

Lesson #1: Do not buy something, no matter how adorable, if you can’t leave the store with a completed outfit. This rule holds for retail shopping, too, especially if the adorable item in question is on sale for a ridiculously low price.

Next we huddled in a back corner of the store, sorting through our finds. We triaged. Some things were obvious rejects: either they didn’t go with anything else, they failed our high standards for quality or style, or it seemed unlikely they would fit. A second category was “maybes,” items that would have to earn their way into the final selection. Of course, there were must-haves, the pieces that would form the backbone of a wardrobe–starting with the denim skirt. Five wardrobe staples from Goodwill

We settled on an overall color scheme of hot pink, lime green and denim (though we later threw in some blue and a white jacket).

Lesson #2: Work with a limited number of colors, to maximize the possibilities for mixing and matching.

While I assembled outfits on a wire grid (we moved a bunch of pictures and paintings, so that we could hang our selections and take photos–much to the bemusement of other shoppers), Melody hunted for accessories, as needed. She came up with a suitable white jacket within five minutes. And, when I didn’t agree with her selections, she argued vigorously in their defense. I had to give in–after all, she’s the teenager and has a better sense of style for that age group.

Meanwhile, she found herself a sleeveless black shirt, fitted through the torso, with a nice stand-up collar. A bargain at $3; she wore it just about every day for the rest of her vacation.

School clothes from GoodwillIn the end, we selected about 10 items, including two purses for $3 each. The rest of the clothes cost either $2 or $3. The entire wardrobe–the skirt, a pair of jeans, the white jacket, the dress, the two purses, four t-shirts, a green tunic and the pink linen dress–added up to about $25.

When our cellphone photo shoot was done, we took the clothes back to the appropriate racks, replaced the pictures on the metal grid. Melody bought the black shirt and the two purses. I came away empty-handed.

Lesson #3: A good time can be had without buying anything!

The Resale Evangelista is dedicated to simplifying, focusing and creating an artful life.  Do let me know what you are doing to simplify or focus your life–share your tips and tribulations!




Going to move or die?

Don’t wait ’til the last minute to downsize

Susan Caba
The Resale Evangelista

Here is my advice on downsizing and decluttering: If you think you are ever going to move–or die, start now!

I’ve passed along that advice to several people in the last year, having spent many months–more than a year, really–getting rid of many of my possessions. The recipients of my wisdom have chuckled and nodded, but I didn’t get the impression they were taking me seriously.

Two of those people have lived in their respective houses for more than 20 years. Every closet, every drawer, every shelf is full. In both cases, art work abounds. Photos and mementos are plentiful. Dining room cabinets are filled with beautiful crystal and china, none of it recently used. One person has closets filled with carefully kept business clothing; she hasn’t worked in more than a decade and wears mostly tank tops, shorts and flip-flops.

Neither of these particular people have children, so there is no one waiting or willing to inherit. One woman has her father’s Steinway grand piano; she doesn’t want to part with it, even though she doesn’t play. I have to say, my mother has been diligent in pruning belongings in the last 15 years. Of course, one of her main strategies is shipping things to her various children, mostly without warning. (A strategy I don’t condone!)

Downsizing doesn’t mean you have to move immediately. In fact, you may find that clearing accumulated belongings rejuvenates the home you live in. When I removed a third of my possessions–including art and significant pieces of furniture–in order to sell my house, I was surprised at how well-furnished it still was.

If you need more nudging, read this New York Times article by Elizabeth Olson. She quotes Kimberly McMahon, co-owner of a Maryland downsizing and moving service, who says many people “wait–and wait” to begin getting rid of stuff.

“Downsizing is the hardest, because it is emotionally difficult for people to release their history,” said Ms McMahon. “It’s the worst anxiety associated with any move.” Her advice? “Nothing should be off limits. Either use it, love it–or leave it.”

And here’s another NYT article, about a couple downsizing gracefully to a retirement apartment. One of the subjects says “I didn’t want to spend one night without my husband in our old house. Plus, I didn’t want to do the packing by myself either.” Her own mother, she said, had been an inspiration: she died at 101 with only two small boxes to her name. “She gave away things for years,” Lydia said. “You have to stop accumulating, and start clearing out early.”

‘Nuff said?


The Resale Evangelista is dedicated to simplifying, reducing clutter and creating a focused, artful life.











The Artfully Packed Suburu

How I drove across country–twice–hauling my coffee-maker, three suitcases, office supplies, yoga mat, tennis rackets and swim gear, a leather couch and my great-grandmother’s claw-foot oak table with 6 leaves

My Suburu holds everythingSusan Caba
The Resale Evangelista

So there we were in St. Louis, MO, getting ready to cast off for Louisiana and, beyond that, North Carolina. All that remained to be done was to pack the Suburu. Enough possessions for a year, plus a family heirloom to be delivered to my brother Joe.

My plan was to drive to Joe’s house in Louisiana, drop off the table and spend a few days there, then head for my new (temporary) home in North Carolina. It’s funny how a simple road trip can take on so many facets–sparking childhood memories, renewing emotional connections, provoking anticipation of the future.

Melody, my 13-year-old niece, was along for the ride. She lives in Taiwan. Her only exposure to the United States has been the summers and holidays she spends in Santa Barbara, visiting my mother.  Missouri was a revelation for her. First of all, it was green–the Midwest has had rain, while California is drought-stricken. And there was more for her to do in St.  Louis than in Santa Barbara. We went to the zoo, to the Arch, bowling and, of course, shopping (Melody and her mother are the original shopaholics).

I never really thought about it, but Santa Barbara is really an adult resort town. Unless you’re a beach person–which Melody isn’t–there aren’t that many kid-centric attractions there. It’s the bane of an only child: Adapting to an adult’s idea of fun, and getting used to talking (mostly) to grown-ups. My mother compensates by arranging for lessons. Horseback riding, tennis, swimming and more. She  did the same for my only kid–Max learned to kayak and scuba dive during his Santa Barbara summers.

Possibly the biggest excitement for Melody was staying with my friend Patricia, mother of four sons and a daughter. They’re all in their 20s, except Patrick, who is 16. Let’s just say they have a boisterous way of communicating with one another.  As the oldest of seven, it’s nothing new to me. To her credit, by the end of the five days, Melody could discern the difference between mock outrage and true trouble. And she grew to enjoy the mock outrage.

One of my tasks while in St. Louis was consolidating my two storage lockers. By the time I finished moving last spring, I couldn’t manage the careful packing required to fit all my belongings into one 10-by-15 storage unit. Melody patiently sat watching while I shifted boxes and furniture to empty the smaller locker into the larger one.

The key to this successful effort was taking my great-grandmother’s oak claw-foot table out of storage.

I have a photo of myself as a toddler in a highchair, exchanging sideways glances with my mother–with spit-curls bobbie-pinned into her hair–at that table. I collected it from my great-grandmother’s house when I moved to Philadelphia to work for The Inquirer. I’ve had the table for 30 years.

My ex-husband and I hosted many a Thanksgiving dinner on it, once for 18 people. As a single person, I am most frequently a guest during the holidays, not the hostess. It was time to pass it along to my brother Joe, who has three daughters. The table, lightly scarred considering its age, will provide ample space for home-schooling and homework, as well as holiday dinners.

I have to say, the Suburu is a great car for hauling. I can’t tell you how many people have marveled at its capacity when they see it fully loaded. The key is artful packing. If I do say so myself, I’m a master at maximizing space.

Suburu road tripA 19th-century oak pedestal table, with six leaves, is not a standard size object. The round table top is 54 inches across. The pedestal, with four impressive lion’s feet, complete with toenails, is massive and bulky. The leaves, at least, are manageable.

Luckily, the top pulls apart into two pieces. Each just fit into the back of the car. No two ways about it, the pedestal parts had to stand up behind the front seats and took up more room than their actual volume. In other words, canny packing was required. Then I had to add the rest of my possessions. Enough for six months or more in North Carolina.  This required some jiggering around. Ultimately, two suitcases had to be bungee-corded to the top of the Suburu.

I’ve said it before. Getting rid of possessions and moving has been a revelation. Who knew that the essential contents of my house could be squeezed into a 15-by-10-foot space? Who knew enough possessions for almost a year would fit in the back of a relatively small vehicle? Even so, I won’t be surprised to find there are still things I won’t need.

Eventually, I got it all in. As usual, it was two steps forward, one step back. I put stuff in, packed around it, then found it necessary to pull things out and start again.  Of course, when I got to Joe’s house, I had to unpack the whole car in order to get the table out, then repack for the onward journey. But that’s another post. This is enough for now.

The Resale Evangelista is simplifying and clarifying her life. It’s a journey. Come along for the ride.