A Story, At Grandmother's Table (part one) reminds me of myself though im not that bad yet lol

                                          
                                            (courtesy Of Victoria Magazine)
My maternal grandmother was a champion accumulator, legendary in our so South Dakota town for her impact at auctions and thrift sales, and in our family for never dropping by empty handed.  A few years ago, it fell to my Aunt Mary and me to ready her possessions for sale - a job anyone who had seen Grandma Tait's house would have shuddered to contemplate.

     I set aside three weeks that November and flew home to do nothing but sort and box.  But by Thanksgiving Day, when Aunt Mary and I had hoped to be done, mountains remained.  By the middle of the first week we had already turned punchy.  Just opening drawers and looking into closets made me feel faint.  Many of the possessions I doubt Grandma herself had seen in years.  Our work became an archaeology of the soul, the layer of things testifying to Grandma Tait's unruly aspirations and changing enthusiasms.  She painted pictures with oils, collected stamps and coins.  She kept everything.  We sorted through papaer dolls, hats and hotboxes, and enough vases to stock a florist's shop.  I counted more than 60 throw pillows.
     But Grandma's great love, as we had always known, was dishes.  They were everywhere: in the kitchen and the bathroom cabinets, in the basement and the attic, under the beds.  Fancy plates were stacked three deep on the dinning -room plate rails.
     One night, exhausted and stretched out on the living-room floor, I noticed a cabinet under the TV that we had overlooked.  Inside was an entire set of Limoges.  We laughed until we were tearful.  Grandma's formal china, familiar from hokiday dinner, was a Hutschenreuther set, beautiful violets on a white background .  Where and when had she ever come up with this gold rimmed Limoges with its pale-greenflowers?
     Most of the things in Grandma's house were destined for auction.  To speed our work, Aunt Mary and I designated the large dinning-room table the "maybe" table.  Anything we might want to keep or give to relatives but were not sure about, we placed on the maybe table.  that way, we would not stop to agonize over each thing.  As the days passed, it became loaded with dishes.  There were candy dishes and relish plates, hand painted hot-chocolate sets,Tom and Jerry mugs, a punch bowl, dessert plates decorated with fruit.  There were flaming-red liqueur glasses brought home from Venice, and delft pieces from the Dutch foreign-exchange student our family hosted when Mary was in high school.
     There was Wedgwood, Roseville. Fostoria, and Nippon; cut glass and milk glass, Depression glass and etched glass. There were butter pats from the old set once used down at the Masonic lodge.  (How did she get her hands on those?) And the Limoges.

Good afternoon friends, I love this story and it reminded me of myself though I'm not nearly like that .. but lol I hear my older daughter saying Mom you got to stop buying things... I spent my whole like only buying things for my children and necessitates.  So now its time to buy what ever I want to enjoy and I tell her when I pass on she can sell everything and make monies if she don't want them... My prerogative !!!
Part two next time... Have a most lovely day..Apple Blackberry Cake recipe below last post..it's a wonderful cake..

With Love Janice