Tales of a Pint-sized Hoarder

Just like my goose egg! (Not.)

Today is mothers day! (I don't use an apostrophe because it confuses me in this case. Is it mother's day as in MY mother's day? Or is it mothers' day as in all mothers' day? Wait, do you capitalize it?) So I thought I would share a story that incorporates both my grandma and my mother. But really it's about me. However this is my blog so that's appropriate.

I was talking to my grammie (known as Grammie but I couldn't capitalize it before because I was referring to her as mine) on the phone a few months ago and she was making me laugh and laugh. We were remembering the time I hoarded a goose egg from her and my grandpa's cabin when I was very young (but old enough to remember clearly). She was jokingly referring to the egg as 'a real treasure.' Which caused me to laugh every time she said it. It was a real treasure, lemme tell ya!

As a child I was definitely a compulsive hoarder, and my inability to stop made me very upset with myself. I had nearly constant panicked thoughts like: what if I NEED this later? I most certainly will! And: this is awesome, how could I possibly throw this away? Etc. However, I was wise enough to know that my behavior was embarrassing and unacceptable. For an elementary school kid, all I needed to know was that it was the dreaded WEIRD. I did NOT want to be weird. So I hid it.

I was only ever caught (that I know of) three times.

From here. 

I had two average sized wall closets against a single wall in my room growing up. One was very nicely organized (I even liked to trick myself into thinking I wasn't a hoarder), but the other one further from the door was an entirely different story. I only ever opened it to shove more stuff inside, but I had to be careful because when my mom painstakingly turned my room into a Beauty and the Beast bonanza, she removed the folding wooden closet doors and installed yellow curtains with pink roses to cover the closets. As a result, treasures (yes, I'm still laughing) could easily tumble out. Well, only if it was piled haphazardly to the rafters and close to bursting with my collections. (And of course this closet was.) I don't think my mom ever looked in there (and I'm pretty certain my dad didn't). Except, one day, she did. And I'll never forget the look on her face. What I interpreted as kind of like, "Well, my daughter is insane. But, let's look on the bright side, she doesn't torture small animals!" (Except that one time I cut a worm in half in front of a younger family friend. Sorry, mom.) The issue was "resolved" by my mom telling me to clean it up. Then I think she probably walked away and took a giant Mind Sponge and scrubbed away that memory. (Whoops, here it is again! Sorry about that, mom!) That was incident 1.

Cut along the dotted lines. From here. 

Then later, I was at school and we were cutting up pieces of paper (if you have already changed your high opinion of me, you should stop reading now because this will really freak you out) and I of course I had to keep the scraps. STOP! I KNOW! You're thinking "OH MY GOD, WHAT?!" But yes, I had to! I had tons of reasoning!! Let me explain!!! The paper had tiny little adorable scissors on it where it showed you to cut. And I might need those little pictures for something! I could make Barbie scissors. Lots of them! Like hundreds of paper Barbie sized scissors so Barbie could have an elementary classroom size bucket of them for...crafts. She could have an entire ELEMENTARY SCHOOL'S worth of scissors! Paper scissors. Then Kelley or Kimmy or BARBIE'S LITTLE SISTER would never be in need of scissors! And if Ken ever took up scrapbooking he would NEVER RUN OUT OF FAKE PAPER SCISSORS. Just his size! Tiny! Teensy. 

Barbie I Can Be Doll - Teacher

I never did anything with the scraps I saved. I just took them home and put them in the closet I mentioned earlier. The Treasures Closet. One day someone at school, I have no idea who, but one of my fellow students, caught me shoving these papers in my eggplant-purple L.L. Bean backpack. I would sneak off, but this time someone was hanging out in the cubby area where our backpacks lived, and I didn't notice him/her until too late. He/she asked me what I was doing. Of course I heard, "Hey, whatcha doin'?" as, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU FREAK!!!!!!!" So I freaked out and I tried to explain, but I could tell it didn't work as his/her eyes became bigger and bigger. That was incident 2. 

I totally need this bracelet! (Kidding.)

The last time I was caught was when my mom was FORCING me to clean out my desk. I had this nice yellow desk that she painted for me and added blue knobs to (holy crud, sound familiar? I do that to desks all of the time...). Anyway, I was cleaning it out and we were all having a good time and stuff until my mom said, "What. Is. That. Smell." And I thought it sounded like a funny thing to ask, but she clearly wasn't amused. She looked horrified. I had horrific flashbacks to the Treasure Closet discovery! But I distinctly remember giggling nervously and saying, "I don't know." Because I had forgotten about my prized treasure in the tupperware container. At some point probably close to a year prior I had put the egg that my grandparents let me take home (I guess they couldn't say, "No" to me) in a tupperware container in the back of a desk drawer and forgot about it. Again, I'll never forget what my mom said. "What. Is. THIS." She said surprisingly calmly as she pried open a corner of the lid. The room was quickly evacuated and the egg was disposed of. I think my mom initially said something about how we couldn't throw away Grammie's tupperware, but I think that idea was soon forgotten as the smell permeated further into the house. That was incident 3.

So, yes, I am a HOARDER. I saved scraps of paper and eggs! Eggs that were definitely not golden! Throw me down the chute! I'm happy to say that now, over 15 years later, I am mostly recovered. But I still have my tendencies. My boyfriend has pointed a finger at me with wild eyes and said, "You are. A. Box. HOARDER!" in the past as we stood amidst a veritable sea of boxes in the attic of our old house. I'm growing though, people, I'm growing. I've graduated from rotten eggs to boxes. PROGRESS.

Happy Mothers Day!

2011: The Year of the Unexpected

Running in the Snow...I told you it was the Year of the Unexpected!

Cake from my Boyfriend's Mom & Valentine's Day Party Outfit

Pillows I sewed!

For me, 2010 was full of careful planning. I went overseas (to Scotland) for the first time and I started my first 'career' job. I also bought my Prius after considering it for years, literally.

Trying a Juice Diet

2011 was entirely different. It seemed like everything happened to me and without my consent and it all sort of just happened, kind of on accident.

Exploring the New Condo

I bought my first home, the condo for which this blog is named. I moved from my home that I had lived in for two years without a second of planning or forethought; my boyfriend of three+ years and I now live in different cities. I started out the year looking for a house in an entirely different part of the city, a house for my boyfriend and I to share! So that just goes to show that things do not always go as planned. Last year was full of those types of lessons for me; I had to learn how to be OK with things not going as planned.

Last year I also went to my second semester of graduate school and my first semester of an MBA program. On top of that, I was accepted to an even better school (in a different city!) that I never thought I would be able to attend. (Namely because I had been rejected from a different graduate program at the same school two years before.)

I also visited my dad in Alaska and installed a point of sale system for him. That was something I didn't really plan and definitely could not have predicted. My dad also visited me TWICE, which is really unheard of since he is very busy all of the time. In addition, my grandparents visited my part of the country, as did my aunt and uncle and I even drove up to an extended-family-reunion in Tennessee.

My Suitcase next to my Boyfriend's Mom's (Guess which is mine)

I took trips to Palm Beach, Florida, Miami, Florida, Savannah, Georgia, and Orlando, Florida. Although all year I dreamed of going north (New York City, Portland), I ended up heading decidedly south, time and again. I'm not complaining, no way. This is just my reflection on how strange and unpredictable this year has been.

I visited Howard Finster's Paradise Gardens. That trip alone is one of the strangest I've ever been on. I also designed and had published my boyfriend's thesis - something I never could have guessed would happen!

The year ended with my brother having Christmas with me and my boyfriend's family, which was completely unexpected and last-minute.

What a strange year 2011 was! I hope 2012 is just as exciting.

Howard Finster's Paradise Gardens

More Anthropologie Love and Midterms

I have been super busy because my dad is visiting, I have a difficult statistics midterm on Monday (I'm in my first semester of an MBA program), and of course work work work. But I hate to not keep my blog updated with my condo progress, so I thought I would post a super quick update!

Anthropologie has tons of housewares in addition to their beautiful clothing (for women). They also happen to carry a great selection of hardware in their stores and online. I knew I would want to use their selection of knobs for something. I decided against trying to use them in the kitchen because I think their pretty-but-very-detailed knobs would look too kitschy and busy on kitchen cabinets. But I did think that one knob from Anthrpologie would be a great replacement for this closet/laundry room door knob that came with the condo:

I considered painting it, I mean spraypainting it, a pretty color or even trying to hand paint it a pretty design. But it was just too big and ugly. Sorry, knob! So I tried out a few from Anthropologie, planning on returning the ones I wouldn't use:

This is the Finishing Touch knob in dark gray. It popped a bit too much against the white of the closet door.

This knob is the Sussex Rose in ivory. It blended in too much against the white of the closet door.

And this beauty is the Edwardian in aqua. And it was jusssssssssssst right (like Goldilocks!). At $10 it was not exactly a bargain (ok, definitely not even close), but I like it and it looks great.

Ta-da! (And I do realize that the closet door needs some freshening up. Paint or cleaning or something. And that picture is old, our hallway is now purple. Haha. Saying that never gets old.)

By the way, a little trick about Anthropologie: if you want to see all of the knobs they have in stock, you can't just go to their knobs section. If you want to see the knobs that are on sale, you'll have to go to their sale section to see that selection! Their knobs run from about $8-$12 each full price, but they sell for as little as $3 on sale. And I did return the knobs I didn't use with no problem. Anthropologie has great customer service.

Speaking of Anthropologie, I went in this week with my dad and left with these beauties:

The Ihrin Shirtdress in green by Lili's Closet. I've never purchased a dress by that line before, and I like the quality (good buttons, good side zipper, excellent seam work, etc), however the one downfall that is so common in dresses these days is that there is no lining. The material is very substantial and it doesn't technically require a lining, but linings add a sense of luxury that must far outweigh the cost of a cheap layer of lining fabric, in my opinion. It also needs some sort of gathering in the chest because it was made for a woman built a bit differently than me (Ha Ha Ha) but I solved that by pairing it with a wide belt. (And I even wore it last night to test it out and it worked well.) I also love the sleeve length on this dress. I really do not care to show my arms and as a result I do not care for sleeveless dresses and cap sleeve dresses. I just feel much more comfortable with my arms covered, for some reason.

Yes, yes, those are bugs on that shirt. This is the printed boy tee with bug print by Pilcro. I own one other shirt by Pilcro and I like the quality fine, but their designs are really what win me over. However, their shirts are full price at $40 and I would never pay that much, but that's just me. I always buy them on sale.

In other news, there will be a HUGE dining room update coming soon. And it's not paint. And it may have to do with furniture. Hellllo!!!!! I can't wait to share that with you.

Happy 27th!

My brother turned 27 years old yesterday. Today we went to pick out his birthday present:

Salomon Men's XT WINGS 2 Trail Runner

He picked out these trail running shoes because they are comfortable and known to last a long time.

Yesterday, on his actual birthday, we bouldered for a bit at the gym. Later we all went out to a local Mexican restaurant, then we took a short road trip to see some of his friends that were hanging out. 

Yay for brothers!

Sibling Rivalry

I've never felt a particular affinity to the idea of sibling rivalry. I just never cared much for it. My brother and I are two radically different people in most aspects (except I would say our senses of humor are similar, he might disagree or more likely he wouldn't have an opinion) although I have admired him for various reasons for most of my life. He is outgoing and and straightforward while I am nervous and unsure. He will never lack a friend or an acquaintance who is endlessly intrigued whereas I will grudgingly admit that my phone is not exactly ringing off the hook. Despite this, he gives up where I find a way. My point is that we are different but neither of us is better than the other.

Growing up my brother was particularly successful socially and athletically. I was decidedly unsuccessful socially and athletically. We are both chipped off the same block; we are wiry and tall (although he is much taller than me) and lanky and pale. Despite our similar frames, we never were any good at the same things. He was good at math, I was good at writing. He was good at sports, I was good at computers. I tried to keep up with him, but I didn't have his determination to be the fastest, the strongest, the winner.


I have a distinct memory of standing at our narrow window in the second floor guest bathroom, framed in dark wood with a blue rug at my feet, watching a truck move slowly backwards and forwards across the freshly lain asphalt driveway below. I remember thinking, why are we having this done? For better roller blading? For the cars? Why didn't the asphalt go all the way to the end of the driveway; why was it only at the end near the garage? The garage was already paved. I remember hearing someone say it cost thousands of dollars. That was an unreasonable amount of money; so much money that it wasn't worth contemplating. This was before algebra was a serious part of my life, so there were no calculations to be done on how many weeks of allowance that would be. I couldn't figure it out, so I asked my parents. They wouldn't say why definitively. Weeks later the sound of my brother's basketball hitting the driveway answered my questions. Oh, duh. It's for his basketball practice. So he can get even better at something he already seemed to be the best at, in my eyes anyway. I remember this moment so well, because I remember thinking: I wish I was good at something, something worth investing in.


Years later I saw what would become my basketball. Computers. I'll never forget the huge Dell box lying in the middle of the living room floor. White Styrofoam encasement and one AOL disk away from the internet and all it had to offer. Information. Creative outlets. Friendship. My parents bought the 'family' computer and I was glued to it from the moment I returned home from school at about 3:40 pm to two, sometimes four, in the morning. This was something I never discussed in detail with my parents. I can't imagine that they didn't know. I was their teenage daughter and I was in the family room with the door open, not exactly locked away in a closet, the basement, or my own bedroom. I heard the occasional "Go To Bed." but it was not something they seemed to want to show me they were concerned about, if they were. I paid a price, however. I have only a small handful of friends from high school. I didn't go to prom. I learned a lot of things that I'm sure my old middle school friends could have taught me in a dark movie theatre (see this post). The plus side is that I was safely on the other side of a computer in a locked house. One thing I think parents should know is that your kids are going to learn this stuff one way or another. The only way they won't is if you lock them up, and then you'll go to jail and that will also suck. The bright side is that I never got pregnant, I didn't become addicted to any substance (besides chili-cheese Fritos), and I didn't really date until college.


After high school, which I left a semester early to get started on college, I picked a plan and followed it. I became a computer science major and did not change my mind while so many of my peers took their time to explore. I finished my degree in four and a half years. Today my brother is working towards an undergraduate degree at the same school I went to and is still exercising the freedom to change his mind about his major. He will tell people, "This is my little sister, she's going to school here."  They will ask him if I am a freshman, and he will smile and chuckle sheepishly. He will tell them that I am working towards my MBA and that I'm already done with my first degree. I will smile, awkwardly, because that suits the role that I play beside him. Foolish sidekick. He has the confidence that I crave; I would happily be the freshman following him around, watching him to better learn how to be involved in the world outside my glowing screen.

As far as sibling rivalry, it's not for me. It bothers me when other people compare my brother and me. I have a career, and on an almost daily basis, I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. I have severe anxiety and feelings of indecision. He does not have a career in the common sense of the word, but he knows exactly what he loves to do and excels stupendously at all of his interests and hobbies. And while I watch the Other watching us, I struggle to remember that we are not in a competition, neither of us is better than the other, we are just different.