Location: On the edge of tomorrow looking back at yesterday. Gender:
Posted:
Feb 28, 2024 - 8:26am
Antigone wrote:
Finding out today that my much trusted (for over 25 years) mechanicâs is selling his biz. He says he canât work on the newer cars. Then he thanked ME for being such a loyal customer all these years.And he said he turned down an offer from someone who wanted him to give up his customer list. Itâs not going to be a shop anymore; itâs going to be a towing service. Guess it's for the best that I'm going to be getting a new car sometime in the next year or so. I'm bummed. He's been so good to me for such a long time.
Same with me too. The shop I work with said when his father retires in 7 years heâs going to shut the shop down as well. The son worked for me when I was at Sears Automotive then went to work for his dad when Sears screwed up their business model.
Well I got my 7 year warning.
Finding out today that my much trusted (for over 25 years) mechanic is selling his biz. He says he canât work on the newer cars. Then he thanked ME for being such a loyal customer all these years.And he said he turned down an offer from someone who wanted him to give up his customer list. Itâs not going to be a shop anymore; itâs going to be a towing service. Guess it's for the best that I'm going to be getting a new car sometime in the next year or so. I'm bummed. He's been so good to me for such a long time.
Finding out today that my much trusted (for over 25 years) mechanic is selling his biz. He says he canât work on the newer cars. Then he thanked ME for being such a loyal customer all these years.And he said he turned down an offer from someone who wanted him to give up his customer list. Itâs not going to be a shop anymore; itâs going to be a towing service. Guess it's for the best that I'm going to be getting a new car sometime in the next year or so. I'm bummed. He's been so good to me for such a long time.
Bummer. Are there any other activities that could be held with a limited amount of snow on the ground? Hiking, bird watching, fat-tire biking ?
I think there will be a crew up there so the lodge may be open as a warming hut, but nah. 3 miles further up the road is the (closed for the season to auto traffic) entrance to Yellowstone, so anyone who wants to do those things will go there. Plus there's a bar/restaurant/gas station.
Last I heard, the USFS hadn't approved any bicycle activities up there. That's of course assuming those would happen in summer, and it's bear country, and they don't want that PR ;-)
And they've scrubbed the season. Half the crew had already found other jobs, so even if they got 3 feet tomorrow, they'd be short staffed.
Our patrol just graduated the largest group of new patrollers in over a decade, too. Sucks so much to be them right now. It costs a bit of money to get all the gear and registrations and books etc.
Bummer. Are there any other activities that could be held with a limited amount of snow on the ground? Hiking, bird watching, fat-tire biking ?
Opening day has been put off to January 15. Sounds like they're going to completely re-engineer the snowmaking system.
And they've scrubbed the season. Half the crew had already found other jobs, so even if they got 3 feet tomorrow, they'd be short staffed.
Our patrol just graduated the largest group of new patrollers in over a decade, too. Sucks so much to be them right now. It costs a bit of money to get all the gear and registrations and books etc.
Location: On the edge of tomorrow looking back at yesterday. Gender:
Posted:
Dec 24, 2023 - 2:13pm
Manbird wrote:
Trying to pack. To move to another house that someone else owns yet again. But this time it's different. I'm packing book. I always felt that books were a big part of what made me what I am. What I had on my shelves, each and every volumess or set meant something special. Now they mostly mean nothing. I barely recognize them. Volumes of graphic design books and old Mac software upgrades: Tiger, Panther. And books about how to use the Mac for graphic design when Macs were just little boxes with tiny monitors. It's all going into the bin. I'll keep a few books. Special books, like all the falconry books (which never get old) and one of a kinds like Amphigorey Also and The Big Black Book of Illustration '05/'06. But the pile that goes to the thrift store is large and full of treasures for an avid reader or beginning designer. Someone will score big. But the books don't make me anything anymore. I'm not really anything now. Even all my old projects will hit the bin as I have no one to leave them to. I have a bunch of original sketches from a book I designed for a 90 year woman. She was so sweet and asked me to keep a half dozen of her works, wavy little line drawings of lilacs and other flowers. I wish I could give them to someone who loved her. I wish I had someone to give my books to. I might as well get rid of them rather than drag them around with me. I'll either trash this stuff or donate it and set it free. The less baggage the better I says. Who needs it? It just occurred to me: Most of the stuff I'm boxing today will never be opened up my me in this lifetime. I have a son who has who might want the old photo albums but I doubt it. He has severed our relationship - permanently it seems. Oh well, his loss.
I’m sorry to hear about your son’s severed relationship with you.
I’m in that same boat right now with all those books I have I could start a library. Not to mention all the paintings of mom’s and mine as well as the Software from the beginning of computing like Adobe Illustrator 88 and all those computers that I used it on. Trying to downsize all the clutter in the house before my time is up on the Blue Marble is the hardest thing to do with all the that it brings.
Trying to pack. To move to another house that someone else owns yet again. But this time it's
different. I'm packing book. I always felt that books were a big part of what made me what I am.
What I had on my shelves, each and every volumess or set meant something special.
Now they mostly mean nothing. I barely recognize them. Volumes of graphic design books and
old Mac software upgrades: Tiger, Panther. And books about how to use the Mac for graphic
design when Macs were just little boxes with tiny monitors. It's all going into the bin. I'll keep a
few books. Special books, like all the falconry books (which never get old) and one of a kinds like
Amphigorey Also and The Big Black Book of Illustration '05/'06. But the pile that goes to the thrift
store is large and full of treasures for an avid reader or beginning designer. Someone will score big.
But the books don't make me anything anymore. I'm not really anything now. Even all my old projects
will hit the bin as I have no one to leave them to. I have a bunch of original sketches from a book I
designed for a 90 year woman. She was so sweet and asked me to keep a half dozen of her works,
wavy little line drawings of lilacs and other flowers. I wish I could give them to someone who loved her.
I wish I had someone to give my books to. I might as well get rid of them rather than drag them around
with me. I'll either trash this stuff or donate it and set it free. The less baggage the better I says.
Who needs it? It just occurred to me: Most of the stuff I'm boxing today will never be opened up my me
in this lifetime. I have a son who has who might want the old photo albums but I doubt it. He has
severed our relationship - permanently it seems. Oh well, his loss.
I know how you feel about books. They're conversations with other people. They'll never have the emotional impact of being with and talking to another person next to you, but the interaction between reader and book can be deeper and more impactful than many of our daily person-to-person interactions.
I hope there's some sort of reconciliation/contact between you and your son. Maybe i shouldn't say that because i have no idea what's going on between you two, but family's a big deal in my book.
Good luck with your move, Manbird, and Merry Christmas!
the internet: "clutter is a trauma symptom"
miamizsun: "no, it just means you've got too much stuff"
swedish death cleaning - you don't have to be dead to do it
"We hold onto it 'just in case,' the three most dangerous words in the English language." Well I wouldn't go that far, but they're sure the hitch to that U-Haul.
Trying to pack. To move to another house that someone else owns yet again. But this time it's
different. I'm packing book. I always felt that books were a big part of what made me what I am.
What I had on my shelves, each and every volumess or set meant something special.
Now they mostly mean nothing. I barely recognize them. Volumes of graphic design books and
old Mac software upgrades: Tiger, Panther. And books about how to use the Mac for graphic
design when Macs were just little boxes with tiny monitors. It's all going into the bin. I'll keep a
few books. Special books, like all the falconry books (which never get old) and one of a kinds like
Amphigorey Also and The Big Black Book of Illustration '05/'06. But the pile that goes to the thrift
store is large and full of treasures for an avid reader or beginning designer. Someone will score big.
But the books don't make me anything anymore. I'm not really anything now. Even all my old projects
will hit the bin as I have no one to leave them to. I have a bunch of original sketches from a book I
designed for a 90 year woman. She was so sweet and asked me to keep a half dozen of her works,
wavy little line drawings of lilacs and other flowers. I wish I could give them to someone who loved her.
I wish I had someone to give my books to. I might as well get rid of them rather than drag them around
with me. I'll either trash this stuff or donate it and set it free. The less baggage the better I says.
Who needs it? It just occurred to me: Most of the stuff I'm boxing today will never be opened up my me
in this lifetime. I have a son who has who might want the old photo albums but I doubt it. He has
severed our relationship - permanently it seems. Oh well, his loss.
the internet: "clutter is a trauma symptom"
miamizsun: "no, it just means you've got too much stuff"
swedish death cleaning - you don't have to be dead to do it
Trying to pack. To move to another house that someone else owns yet again. But this time it's
different. I'm packing book. I always felt that books were a big part of what made me what I am.
What I had on my shelves, each and every volumess or set meant something special.
Now they mostly mean nothing. I barely recognize them. Volumes of graphic design books and
old Mac software upgrades: Tiger, Panther. And books about how to use the Mac for graphic
design when Macs were just little boxes with tiny monitors. It's all going into the bin. I'll keep a
few books. Special books, like all the falconry books (which never get old) and one of a kinds like
Amphigorey Also and The Big Black Book of Illustration '05/'06. But the pile that goes to the thrift
store is large and full of treasures for an avid reader or beginning designer. Someone will score big.
But the books don't make me anything anymore. I'm not really anything now. Even all my old projects
will hit the bin as I have no one to leave them to. I have a bunch of original sketches from a book I
designed for a 90 year woman. She was so sweet and asked me to keep a half dozen of her works,
wavy little line drawings of lilacs and other flowers. I wish I could give them to someone who loved her.
I wish I had someone to give my books to. I might as well get rid of them rather than drag them around
with me. I'll either trash this stuff or donate it and set it free. The less baggage the better I says.
Who needs it? It just occurred to me: Most of the stuff I'm boxing today will never be opened up my me
in this lifetime. I have a son who has who might want the old photo albums but I doubt it. He has
severed our relationship - permanently it seems. Oh well, his loss.
I feel you on the books. We've been downsizing for years, culling, organizing, culling again. I felt very much the same about a lot of the paper (and a few pangs of 'do you know how much I paid for this..."). But I've come to realize I am still me, it wasn't in the books. Sorry about the kid, but remember nothing is so temporary as something permanent. Things come around, so do people.
Trying to pack. To move to another house that someone else owns yet again. But this time it's
different. I'm packing book. I always felt that books were a big part of what made me what I am.
What I had on my shelves, each and every volumess or set meant something special.
Now they mostly mean nothing. I barely recognize them. Volumes of graphic design books and
old Mac software upgrades: Tiger, Panther. And books about how to use the Mac for graphic
design when Macs were just little boxes with tiny monitors. It's all going into the bin. I'll keep a
few books. Special books, like all the falconry books (which never get old) and one of a kinds like
Amphigorey Also and The Big Black Book of Illustration '05/'06. But the pile that goes to the thrift
store is large and full of treasures for an avid reader or beginning designer. Someone will score big.
But the books don't make me anything anymore. I'm not really anything now. Even all my old projects
will hit the bin as I have no one to leave them to. I have a bunch of original sketches from a book I
designed for a 90 year woman. She was so sweet and asked me to keep a half dozen of her works,
wavy little line drawings of lilacs and other flowers. I wish I could give them to someone who loved her.
I wish I had someone to give my books to. I might as well get rid of them rather than drag them around
with me. I'll either trash this stuff or donate it and set it free. The less baggage the better I says.
Who needs it? It just occurred to me: Most of the stuff I'm boxing today will never be opened up my me
in this lifetime. I have a son who has who might want the old photo albums but I doubt it. He has
severed our relationship - permanently it seems. Oh well, his loss.
Trying to pack. To move to another house that someone else owns yet again. But this time it's
different. I'm packing book. I always felt that books were a big part of what made me what I am.
What I had on my shelves, each and every volumess or set meant something special.
Now they mostly mean nothing. I barely recognize them. Volumes of graphic design books and
old Mac software upgrades: Tiger, Panther. And books about how to use the Mac for graphic
design when Macs were just little boxes with tiny monitors. It's all going into the bin. I'll keep a
few books. Special books, like all the falconry books (which never get old) and one of a kinds like
Amphigorey Also and The Big Black Book of Illustration '05/'06. But the pile that goes to the thrift
store is large and full of treasures for an avid reader or beginning designer. Someone will score big.
But the books don't make me anything anymore. I'm not really anything now. Even all my old projects
will hit the bin as I have no one to leave them to. I have a bunch of original sketches from a book I
designed for a 90 year woman. She was so sweet and asked me to keep a half dozen of her works,
wavy little line drawings of lilacs and other flowers. I wish I could give them to someone who loved her.
I wish I had someone to give my books to. I might as well get rid of them rather than drag them around
with me. I'll either trash this stuff or donate it and set it free. The less baggage the better I says.
Who needs it? It just occurred to me: Most of the stuff I'm boxing today will never be opened up my me
in this lifetime. I have a son who has who might want the old photo albums but I doubt it. He has
severed our relationship - permanently it seems. Oh well, his loss.
