"Cleaning out my closet"...

Photo Credit to "Why not talk about it?"
No, not in a Slim Shady sort of way... although there's been plenty of figurative cleaning out of my closet this year too! When I moved home, the room that I moved into had been used by many of us kids and our friends and our friends (my parents like to pick up strays) over the years and in the five years that I had not lived at home, the law of Kipple had seemed to have come into play (bonus points if you get the reference, this relates to the assignment I'm working on that is due next week!) and I wedged my clothes into the spaces left over, keeping a lot in suitcases and boxes under the bed, etc.
In the intersemester break I finally got around to climbing up and into the cupboards to find out exactly what it was that we were keeping up there, and why... So much of it was paper! Possibly every school book that my sisters and I used in our primary years was up there, issues of Consumer Magazine from before I was born (and what do you know, McDonalds was a sometimes food even all the way back then) and posters of celebrities we lusted over that we haven't for many years... does anyone even know what happened to Devon Sawa? There were the bits and pieces of children's games we'd long outgrown... a set of girly blocks... some stuffed toys we'd left behind. Some of it was special, and some of it could be rehomed but a lot of it was trashed. Maths books from when you were eight usually don't hold any sort of special memory so it was off into the paper recycling they went. Story books and such went into the "rehomed" pile and have since been donated to a church garage sale where they can find a much more age-appropriate home.
What was special to me was what I kept. I held onto the books that I'd written stories in - so funny what you think is a big deal when you are nine! I'd written journal entries in standard four about how I was rained upon on the way to school and was going to get hypothermia! At seven I'd written a big story about how I'd had an argument with my husband and how our kids Simon and Sally had told us to stop it! These stories had me and my parents rolling around on the floor with laughter and they were a good idea to keep for further laughs in future. I found a gorgeous little dress I wore when I was small and I hope some day I have a daughter who can wear the same dress. Possibly the most special thing I found in the cupboard was "Jason"...
The background of this story is that my parents have always been cat people - they had a cat daughter before they had real daughters and since then a succession of feline companions (or two... or three) has wound its way through the legs of the Scribbles Snr household. Scribbles herself has always felt more like a dog person (and found out last year that she is allergic to cats... my subconscious must have always known LOL) and has regretted the fact that she was born into a household where cats are so firmly established.
Being the highly imaginative and creative wee girl that she was, Scribbles was not going to let the fact that there was no actual barking canine on the property prevent her from having the little puppy that she so desires... and everyone knows what actually makes the dog is the fact it has a leash right?
Enter Jason... originally Daddy Scribble's work torch, it came with a long string handle so it could be casually slung over the shoulder, leaving both hands free (I know, trendy yet utilitarian... so eighties right?). Little Scribbles used to drag Jason Torch-Dog around the house for hours by his "leash" making him jump and bark and sit on her lap for cuddles while they watched Play School.
And the Scribbles parents are possibly the only people in the world who understood why a grown woman ran down the hallway to the lounge holding an extremely old red torch in her hands going "OOOOOOHHHHHMMMMYYYYYGODDDDD IT'S JAAAAY-SONNNNNNN!"
You can bet your sweet bippy I didn't throw that one out :D

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