A Family of Pack Rats
Seeing as how I’m currently in Scotts Valley, I decided to visit my Aunt and Uncle this evening. One of their kids (a cousin) also stopped by later in the evening. Basically spent the evening having dinner, catching up on everything that’s been going on, talking about the state of the world, which of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber might get elected, and so forth. I had fried chicken like my grandmother used to make — with just a small dusting of flour, salt and pepper. Not caked-on breading like everyone else makes. It is about as Atkins friendly as fried chicken gets, and it’s something I’ve gotta try and make at home.
I also played phone boy this evening and got the voicemail set up on their cell phones so they can actually use it. Fortunately, they are on AT&T Wireless, which is what I use, so it was fairly straightforward for me to do so. One of the voicemail boxes could not be set up because the default passcode did not work. A call to AT&T Wireless later solved that. I programmed their voice mail number into their phones along with the PIN code so it’s basically one-touch access to their voice mail.
One thing we also discussed was our family’s pack rat genes. My aunt and uncle both antique. They try and sell their finds on eBay and in part of an antique store they rent out. That’s one way to put your pack rat gene to good use. My cousin was also lamenting her pack rat genes. Of course, with both of her parents being pack rats, she’s doomed.
Looing back on my youth, I certainly had the tendancy to pack rat as well, though I think I was better able to get rid of things now and then. What I believe cured me was seeing all the stuff in my grandmothers trailer that we pulled out after she had moved over with my mother in Hawaii basically killed any desire I might have had to become a pack rat. There was so much stuff that it filled a huge Matson shipping container. It was the accumulation of nearly 8 decades of being a pack rat. I have no idea what my mom did with all that stuff, quite honestly. I wouldn’t have bothered to ship most of it, but my mom wanted it for some reason. She’s also a pack rat, of course.
The other thing that helps keep my pack rat genes in check is my wife. My wife is an anti-packrat, almost to the point of throwing stuff out that she finds that she later needs.
