Bin There Done That

My previous post touched on the overwhelming task of dealing with approximately 100 plastic bins filled with "stuff" that had populated the attic and were now inhabiting two bedrooms. It had taken three folk about 2½ hours to migrate those bins down. The easiest path forward to regain the use of those two bedrooms would be to haul them back up there in totality, as is, without investigating what the "stuff" inside was. Returning them should take a comparable amount of time, right? But what a waste to not use this opportunity, as inviting and exciting as it is, to sort through those bins and thin out a lot of the contents. So that is what I set out to do.

The first bin I grabbed was full of Christmas stockings –  the cheap $1 kind that are generally used to give away to random acquaintances with perhaps cookies or candy or advertising. Nestled amongst the stockings were knick-knack type tins or package decoration novelties. I could pitch the entire contents of this bin. No need to even photograph it for posterity. Do not know why I even kept this stuff in the first place. Great! I was on a roll.

The second bin upon opening was labeled Robin Ceramics. Progress came to a screeching halt!

Carefully nested inside, in 3D jigsaw puzzle fashion, were just under a dozen clay creations. Each had been lovingly wrapped, mummy style, with yards of toilet paper, by my daughter's hands nearly a quarter of a century ago.

I carefully unwound the tallest one first, documenting my progress as if this were an archeological dig.

This was Chuckles the Clown for which my daughter Robin had won a second place ribbon at the county Fair when she was 12 years old. She was in a class taught by a Mrs. Cornell and it was affectionately called Clay Crew. This memory came flooding back since Robin had had the foresight to tenderly wrap that ribbon around Chuckles before enshrouding him in toilet paper.

The next largest item I unwrapped was some sort of L-shaped creation.

Robin was very much into horses and riding at that age and so it was no surprise that this was a riding boot she had chosen to hand-form. It is much shinier, cleaner, and more dust-free than her real boots ever were. Other than that small detail, it is a pretty good replica of one of her boots.

The third largest item I revealed was a flat, plate-shaped item. It was the image of a horse head, complete with flying mane and bridle detail. To be correct as I wrote this, I asked myself if the horse was wearing a "bridle" or a "halter." What was the difference? Wikipedia had the answer.

Horse halters are sometimes confused with a bridle. The primary difference between a halter and a bridle is that a halter is used by a handler on the ground to lead or tie up an animal, but a bridle is generally used by a person who is riding or driving an animal that has been trained in this use.

Since the reins are drawn back and the mane hair is flying in the breeze I assume the horse is being ridden, and hence my choice of the word bridle. See how much detail went into that plaque? There were some more horsey items to be unwrapped and revealed: a mini 3-D horse head, a hoof pick, and a gold trophy cup.

My guess is that the brown coil basket, the green box with lid, the tulip plaque, and the turtle were class-guided assignments. Perhaps that green creature at the rear (triceratops or gecko?) presiding over the eclectic assortment of sculptures was for her brother since that was his passion at the time.

So what do I do now? I show these pictures to Robin and ask her what she wants done with her historic bits of clay.

• I will be thrilled if she says, "Wow! Cool, Mom. Mail them to me." Then I will meticulous wrap them in shock absorbing bubble wrap – not flimsy toilet paper, double box them, and mail them to her. 
• Fingers crossed that she doesn't say, "Oh, Mom, just toss 'em". Then what am I to do? Then I will probably meticulous wrap them in shock absorbing bubble wrap and double box them and ... put them back up in the attic.
• Best outcome would be if I can mail her a few that she designates as her favorites and then, with a fond memory since I do have a photo record, sneak the remainder into a box along with other items I am donating to charity. (... Maybe her brother or some other little boy would treasure that green creature?...)

Next bin... ?