• five books. only a handful of grown-up books left.

• blue corduroy jacket. misguided purchase.
• aluminum tin. unreasonably awesome.
• origami how-to book. we are overrun with origami gear.
• pocket guide to bugs and slugs. i love this when i find it in the bottom of my drawer.
• dvd of fifth grade macbeth production. i am going to mama hell.

• two plastic spatulas. free with purchase.
• two pairs of shorts. unworn shorts. stylish shorts. lovely shorts.
• one small yellow silicone rolling pin. hands down my cutest kitchen implement.

• a black shirt. the inadvisability of owning a shirt that can only be worn under something...
• a three-hole punch. the binder kind. inferior.
• twine. cheap twine. plastic twine.
• six rocks. seriously, enough with the rocks in the house.

• one metal trash can. i admit it. i like the plastic one better.
• one wool hat. tragically felted.
• two strings battery-operated christmas lights. unused for years.
• one lunch bag. freebies just aren't that great.

• one shirt. seriously, i do not own very much clothing.
• one tiny tube of lotion. note to self: please stop taking these from hotel rooms.
• one nearly empty jar of nail polish remover. i am glad that i buy organic meat at a million dollars a pound only to have my daughter practically bathe in this stuff.
• one dried up eyeliner. more contemplated than actually used.
• one tin of unidentified white powder. my children are still (a little) too young for this to be a discovery that gives me pause.

• glasses case. still on the fence about the glasses.
• eyeglass polishing cloth. though ubiquitous, these are truly never around when i need them.
• mother's day bookmark. sue me; it was not original artwork.
• piece of plastic. once part of... something.
• straw hat. how many ill-fitting straw hats does one family need?

• three more photo albums. careful curation.
• one book. left here by someone.
• one more dwell. sneaky.
• word search book. silly.

• mardi gras beads. an ecological nightmare.
• one package of straight pins. these are very cool.
• two packages of needles. we have apparently been mistaken for people who mend.
• one small beaded, sequined box. ornament. box.
• pumpkin carving patterns. a travesty.
• ancient egypt art kit. decorate your own tomb.
• a sewing tin. fake vintage.
• black costume sash. looks flammable.
• blue modelling clay. we are more about 2d.
• one bottle motor oil. inferior, apparently.

• a water bottle. a curse on the manufacturers of crappy water bottles.
• wallet magnifying glass. less useful than i had supposed.
• nearly gutted pillar candle. note to self: only buy votives.
• a dozen plastic rewards club cards. grrrrr.
• a zillion pieces of paper. only art and literature will be tolerated.

• four brown dresses. you've never seen me in a brown dress? exactly.
• one brown hat. it was a good look for a while.

• old boarding passes? how is this possible?
• set of camera chargers. none of which charge either of our cameras.
• one (cheap) digital camera. who still uses those?
• one checkbook cover. who still uses those?
• one tape measure. who still...? i mean, we have at least five others.

• favorite too-small jeans. ouch!
• second-favorite too-small jeans. ouch!
• favorite too-small shirt. ouch!
• favorite shirt that i love but never wear. not so bad.
• comforter cover that clashes with my bedroom walls. easy.

• picnic jug. non-thermal. been trying to shed this for two years.
• laser-cut geometric stainless steel blocks and rings. amazingly cool. 
• ancient glass light fixture. must not make assemblage artist friend into dumpster. but.
• cocktail napkins. i should have more parties.
• blue paper star-shaped hanging lampshade. now i never have to find a place to hang it. ever.

• five decorating books. dwell interiors? get real.
• candle holder. no longer pretty.
• four other books. a series that my children are unlikely to want to read. despite my desire that they should.

• another photo album.
• another hundred photos. first five years of parenting: overalls, bathtubs, bandaids and sleeping.

• one photo album.
• approximately forty photographs. we are cute when curated.

• five books. apparently i have quite a few gardening books.

• a folder of 401k statements. i heart a paperless file cabinet.
• one pair of sweatpants. too short. it's hard enough to look good in sweat pants.
• several photographs. keep only what you want to remember.
• a photo album. scanning project, anyone?
• a pair of pants. beautiful pants. expensive pants. formerly very flattering pants. sigh.

• one small dry erase board. it is fortunate that my children do not find me interesting enough to read this blog. 
• the other eight magazines. possibly the most satisfying thing to throw away.

• two advertising magnets. good cause does not = nice magnet.
• three turtles. painted papier mache. pretty.
• one elephant. fabric. pretty
• one toy basketball hoop. plastic. not pretty.

• the seven magazines in the living room. does anyone ever actually try recipes from back issues?

• eight mechanical pencils.
• three felt-tipped pens.
• seven ballpoints.
• five hardened erasers. i was persuaded to keep every single wooden pencil. which could be considered disaster supplies. by someone who reads far too much post-apocalyptic literature.

• seventeen books. which you can peruse at the madison high book sale on january 26 and 27. my junk is your junk.