I finished up the first of the worksocks I'm making for Third Son. I don't know why these are so not fun to make, (other than being HUGE) but I shall persevere. His birthday is the 19th and I want to get them to him on time, so I need to finish them up this week.
CrazyAuntPurl talks about stuff:
The other concept I got a handle on, finally, is that I AM NOT MY STUFF. I am not a better person if I wear designer labels. I am not a kinder, smarter or even happier woman if I have the most expensive handbag. I am not sexier or more successful if I drive a nice car or own my own home or get my nails done or have an ipod. I am not my stuff. I enjoy my ipod -- believe me it is a saving grace on the bus -- but I am not lesser of a human being for buying a refurbished one or not buying one at all. I am not my stuff. My worth as a human being is not contingent on driving a fancy vehicle -- and thank God, since my Jeep qualifies for extinction, I think.
Yes I love pretty things, and I like shoes and I love to shop at the grocery store and buy the stinky yummy expensive cheese. But all of it is just stuff. It took a while for me to disassociate who I am from what I have, and sometimes it was painful. I had given all these little things -- things with no value -- so much sentimental value that I had a house full of clutter and my life was cramped and confusing and uncomfortable. Because of stuff! Stuff I'd bought to make me feel better in a lonely and sad marriage, stuff I'd bought just because it was on sale, or because I thought it made me look better, or I thought maybe this one thing is what I need to make me happy once and for all. Can you imagine when I finally started getting rid of even the smallest bits of clutter how much my emotional load lightened? Being free of objects that had all these old ideas and memories and hopes wrapped up in them was like letting go of a false self.
Look at this darling little boy in the very cute hat!