The big dig

Last year on my birthday, Dad and I went on our trip to Boston.  We took a few tours while we were there, and one of the trolley drivers made several references to a construction project where they filled in some land and built on top of it.  They called it The Big Dig.  That's what I think I should call the process of culling through my things and keeping only what's necessary.  It's like archaeology to me.  I am uncovering layers of history.  A few days ago, I found this:

I just need headphones and batteries, and I can see what was on that tape.  I bet it was a good one...

I continued the big dig in my kitchen yesterday.  Everything was removed from the carpeted areas of my house so the guy my mother recommended could come in and work a miracle.  He did, in fact.  The Berber carpet that was in four rooms and a hallway in my house was absolutely gross.  It had stains on it when I moved in, and I tried to run a Dirt Devil carpet cleaner on them.  That seemed only to piss off the stains.  Steve got every single one of them out and stretched the carpet in the places that needed stretching.  It was a rental property before I lived in it for ten years, so I can't imagine the depth of some of the dirt.  I was so impressed that I called our realtor Steve and had him put carpet guy Steve on the list of preferred contractors he gives to new homeowners.  

While the carpets were being resurrected, I was packing up and sorting through more stuff in my kitchen.  I had stuff I had pulled from other rooms to work with while Steve was there.  That's when my archaeology turned up this gem:

For my 21st birthday, my paternal grandmother sent me a butterfly.  I assume it was this one, but there's no way to be sure.  It seems like the one, though.  It was fake gold plated with rhinestones in the wings.  The thing is, the 21st birthday butterfly came with a suction cup on the back, and this one was in the same box as a metal stand.  Maybe the birthday butterfly had two different options for a display method.  I may never know.  

Almost 20 years ago, though, I received this or something very much like it for my birthday.  Because there was a suction cup, I licked the back of it and immediately stuck it to my forehead.  It became a running joke in the family.  One year, Grandma asked Mom what she should get me for my birthday, and Mom told her to get something with a suction cup on it.  Maybe that sounded as strange to Grandma as it does to me, but she obliged, and I had a second suction-cup thing to stick in my window.  In fact, it's still in my old kitchen.  I need to pull it off of the window when the big dig continues.