I begin this chapter on crafts with the admonition, ďDONíT THROW ANYTHING AWAY!"
When I die, I will leave my house in the same condition as left us by my grandmother. There will be bags of old stockings in the oven, and hems taken off dresses stacked to the closet ceiling. Entire rooms will be full of margarine containers, cardboard egg cartons, empty spice bottles, bags of feathers, ancient packets of seed, and unlabeled jars filled with Goddess knows what. Every nook and cranny will contain hundreds of wire hangers, paper bags of what used to be some sort of green leaf, hundreds of books and magazines, and, well, you get the idea.
As a capper, mixed in with all this junk so people have to go through everything and not just trash the lot of it, will be treasures. For instance, a silver love birds salt and pepper shaker set, a diamond (real) ring, a diamond (not real) ring, three amazing pieces of pre-Columbian art, will be at the bottom of a bag of, well, bags.
And they thought I was senile!