The Six Year Blog

We've got a few throw pillows in the yard covered in a Hawaiian print in yellows and greens and pinks, hibiscus and plumeria and frothy leaves on a black background. They conjure up all sorts of pleasant memories when I look at them.

I'm at a too-big rambling old desk. The top is a formica replacement but the legs are original hardwood and sturdy, dark brown in color and all banged up. The drawers open almost the entire 3' depth which makes them incredibly heavy. They scrape in and out on wooden slides that will collapse at any moment, and are stuffed, and I mean stuffed with *old stamps*ear plugs*duct tape*cast-off sunglasses*guitar picks*mickey mouse rulers*old photos and slides.

Above, on the hutch, is Aiyana, the girls in happier days, and The Babe.  Next to that are my bronze baby shoes and a can wrapped in plaid fabric with buttons haphazardly glued to it for pencils and scissors. 'To Mom from Tim, 1995' is scrawled on the underside (age 7).  To the left are bills; to the right, receipts. The yellow pages (!!!) take up the upper right cubby. 

The Aflac duck pencil; rare photos of San Francisco; an antique floor lamp, a playbill from Fillmore West; an 80 year old bookcase with a soft and beautiful patina; a baseball cap from the 1932 Boston Red Sox that is all dog eared and worn; tons of movies and music.  I'm coming to see collectors just see things through a different lens.  Feelin' the energy.  H B-Day, blog.