Coming out of the closet.

No, not like that. But sometimes it's fun to make my kids splurt milk out their collective noses.

What came out of this closet? A broken laundry basket mostly filled with junk. I emptied it into one and a half garbage bags and got rid of the basket.

A storage container (blue) that is now in the back of the truck for donation; it contained half a dozen pairs of wool socks whose elastic had gone to the Great Rubber Tree in the Sky.

A pair of very ugly, very heavy, wool slacks, probably dating back to when Beloved was in the sheriff's department in the mountains of California. Out they go.

His FFA jacket. It stays. It's hard to believe he was ever that skinny. In almost all the pictures I have seen of him, even as a young father, he is this ginormous Viking. It may be that the only way I recognize him come resurrection morning is by his hands, and his voice.

Of course, the only way he might recognize me is by my voice, or my laugh. Time, poverty, cheap food, and childbirth have had their way with me. (On the other hand, nobody could accuse me of hiding my talent so as to return it to the Giver in mint condition.)

When I am in pain, I miss the body I had in my 20's. But I love and respect and appreciate the body I now have. We have had some grand adventures together.

I used a recipe for chocolate pudding in Cooks Illustrated - Comfort Foods and put it in a chocolate graham cracker shell. There was a little left over. It was amazing. I hope it set up sufficiently in the pie shell and that Squishy likes it.

I got virtually no knitting done yesterday. And no musical practice. I must remedy both, today. But my closet looks terrific, and it's ready to be customized, once I decide how I want it. Graph paper, here I come!