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Plastic Bag Pariah

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I committed a cardinal sin this morning. I forgot my reusable shopping bag when I went to the farmers' market.  I left the house in a rush to get the the market before all the good stuff was gone, and in my haste, I left my bag at home.  They always have plastic bags to put the produce in, but it wasn't until today that I realized nobody ever really uses them.  As I strolled around the market picking out root veggies and the last of the summer tomatoes (and a few green ones for frying), I began to notice that everyone else had their Whole Foods and Trader Joe's bags slung over their shoulders.  There was even a token bag from The Strand .  What can I say, I live in a hipster neighborhood. And there I was, conspicuously without one.  What had started out as a jolly shopping trip turned into a covert operation as I skulked around the stalls trying not to be noticed.  But the real trouble began when I got in line to pay. I stood there behind...
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On the Way to Better

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I checked into the hotel with just the clothes on my back, my phone, and my wallet. Minutes earlier, I had walked out of our now-empty home for the last time, having purged the remaining bits of our life into the garbage. Just before I left, I snapped one last picture of our beautiful view of Thomas Circle and tweeted , "I don't live here anymore." It took my breath away how much it hurt.  The woman at the hotel desk handed me a package with the clothes I would wear and a purse I was borrowing from my mother. They were the only possessions I had. I swallowed the lump in my throat and went to my room. As I stripped off my clothes and put them into a garbage bag, I thought to myself, "How did I get here? How had I survived the past year? Would I survive what was coming next? What was coming next?" There I was, in nothing, with nothing, and I couldn't fathom how I was going to put my life back together. I didn't know if WH was ever going to get better....
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On Things and Such

I've been reflecting a lot on stuff lately.  To be clear, I've not been reflecting on a lot of stuff, but on stuff itself--things, posessions, mementos.  I have a lot of stuff.  Most of which is fairly junky and meaningless.  Oh sure, I have the first book that made me love reading , my grandmother's antique china, and the same teddy bear I've been sleeping with since I was eight (yes, I'm almost 40 and still sleeping with a teddy bear, not the point here).  But most of the other stuff I've got is just that . . . stuff.  Is there any particular reason to keep stacks of old magazines?  A miniature Etch-A-Sketch? A vase full of old wine corks? I think no.  So why do I still have them?  Lots of reasons, including I might need them someday, they amuse me, or they remind me of something.  But as I've been thinking about all of this stuff, it's occurring to me (slowly -- after all, I have been a packrat all my life) that I don't really need ...
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