Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
Today we had a street sale. I got out a box of old stuff and sorted it on the front steps, but no customers came by. It interested me to finally let go of some stuff I have been keeping for years. Toys from the children's baby years, gifts that I was not caring enough to keep out in the open, lots of wires and connectors, old headsets, extension chords, whole sets of fine colored pens and a fancy protractor I only used once. I also read old things I had written, (golly, I was sometimes so crazy), and looked at old photos. Over the years I have kept every passport I ever had and I still can't throw those away. I found an unopened bottle of expensive single malt scotch and my old tenor recorder, still in its cardboard box, which had collapsed with age, around it. I still vividly remember the shop in Soho, where I bought it for the then fantastic sum of eighteen pounds. Of course, it still has a wonderful tone, although my skill with it never caught up with its potential.