Leftovers

This was on Jill's 1st birthday before the car was fully assembled. She was pretty happy!

The memories are not for sale. 

But we are passing along a kitchen, a work bench and a car to new owners. No, I'm not giving up cooking or driving. These particular items are vintage toys.

It's a reality check when your kids' toys are now considered "vintage." We have been slowly whittling away excess "stuff" from our house since we began the process during Covid. In this round of decluttering, we have hauled several vintage toys to Topeka where Jill can list them on Facebook Marketplace. Any money raised will go into the girls' accounts.

I must admit there are some "pangs" from this sentimental mom. And these Little Tikes toys can still take up real estate in my mind - just not in my basement. (I somewhat jokingly say that we need to get rid of some of these things while Randy is still physically able to haul them upstairs. But there's also some truth to that.)

Jill

Loading up her dolly for a ride.

The Cozy Coupe was our first Little Tikes toy. This gift to Jill from my parents was "driven" hundreds of miles by Jill and later Brent.

Cousin Blake in his car

My parents also gave cars to Jill's cousins, so my parents' great-grands put even more mileage on the cars as the next generation drove them around.

Kinley in the Little Tikes coupe

 

According to an internet search, the 1990s marked the peak of the Little Tikes coupe. The class '90s model - like the one Jill got for her 1st birthday - was often referred to as a Flintstone car because it was propelled by the driver's legs. By 1991, it was the top-selling "car" in the U.S. In 1997, 313,000 units were sold in the U.S., with another 100,000 in the UK. Our coupe stayed in the house, so it's still in decent shape even though both Jill and Brent - as well as Kinley and Brooke - put the miles on it. 

The design remained largely unchanged until 2003.

 

 

When Brent was 1, we added another "vehicle" to the fleet. It was a little two-wheeled Playskool "bike," also propelled by kid power. Jill had a slightly larger pink version, but it evidently didn't survive. We didn't find it among the toys in the basement. 

 

 

Jill also put lots of miles on a baby walker. Even Goodwill wouldn't take it. (I think walkers like this were banned because of safety concerns, but Jill certainly put lots of miles on hers.) 

 

 

We also hauled the Little Tikes workshop and kitchen to Topeka to be resold to new owners. Though I'm not sure what year we gave them to the kids, they did make for a memorable Christmas. Somehow, Jill's name got attached to the workshop and Brent's was on the kitchen. And while we are all about equal opportunity experiences, it wasn't exactly how Mom and Dad had planned. However, it's made for a funny memory that's been retold time and again. In fact, Jill said she might not remember it had the miss-marked toys not happened.  

 

Unfortunately, I have not yet discovered the plastic tub that houses the photos of the play kitchen and tool bench. 

The Little Tikes play kitchens from the 1990s had mounted corded phone and coffee pots. They had burners that clicked. There was a small sink area with a molded faucet. Not all the components survived, but we hope some child will still enjoy playing with it. We had plenty of pretend meals served from that kitchen at our house. 

The 1990s Little Tikes workshops were made of thick molded plastic and featured bright primary colors. The components included a hammer, saw, pegboard for hanging tools, and a storage area. Some of those "extras" actually survived, including the phone. 

 

The toys aren't the only paring down I'm doing. I've also been whittling down my kitchen supplies. However, I must admit that I am finding it difficult to part with my Grandma Neelly's square-shaped cake pans. Grandma Neelly sometimes used those for birthday cakes. I always wanted a homemade angel food cake, but others opted for other flavors. As I was looking through photos, I did find cakes she'd made featuring the square shape. In the photo below, he had the bonus gift of a few of his great-grands serenading him with the "Happy Birthday" song.

 

  

I took the pans out of the cabinets for awhile. But, I must admit, they went back in. It's silly, since I haven't ever used the pans since bringing them home from Grandma Neelly's house. (And I've made plenty of cakes since that time.) 

 

  

 

I know that even if I get rid of the pans, I'll still have the memories. We'll see ... They do take up less room than the toys. 

 

Man vs. Beaver and Other Varmints

Beaver dam under a bridge on the Rattlesnake Creek

Operation Beaver Dam Destruction is underway.

Randy's efforts to thwart the four-legged construction engineers have been admirable. However, those beavers are persistent!

When we were on a Gator ride to the Rattlesnake pasture in mid-August, we made our customary stop on the bridge. It's my normal spot for taking photos toward the east. It provides an unobstructed view easily reached by a regular vehicle to check the creek level and flow.

But we noticed the water level on the west side of the bridge (the neighbor's pasture) was appreciably higher than on our side. Randy went underneath the bridge to try and learn why. And he found a large beaver dam.

He's taken multiple trips to the bridge to try and dissuade the four-legged Master Builders. 

Jill is not impressed with her dad's idea of retirement.

"I thought you were supposed to be leaving the heavy work to the young guys!" she texted back after seeing the photos of her dad bent over, chucking cement blocks away from the beaver dam.

On the other hand, our son-in-law is ready to make business cards with a catchy title like Randy's Rascals. 

Neither Randy or I could believe the size of the cement blocks the beavers were able to move into their dam. How do these creatures without the advantage of opposable thumbs move the heavy pieces? Some of them were too big for Randy to move by himself. (All I'm good for is taking photos of his battle - not lifting heavy objects.)

Randy's efforts helped release some of the backlog of water. 

But, two days later, they had already moved in fresh reeds and grass. That has been repeated multiple times since.

So far, I think the beavers are winning. 

He hopes he has better luck with some other pesky rascals. Randy's golf cart wouldn't run, so he took it to the repair shop. The guys there found out that a packrat had chewed several wires in two. They'd also left behind a pretzel bag and other assorted "treasures." (Randy doesn't keep food in his golf cart, so they found them elsewhere and graciously "shared.") When he was at golf league on Tuesday night, he learned two other carts in the same shed were also incapacitated by the busy packrats.

We've had similar infestations in the old shop and the shed where we currently store the Gator. Packrats were always a problem in farm machinery, too, despite our best efforts to control them.

Millennials aren't the only ones who watch YouTube. Randy found a video that claims rats can't digest baking soda. The YouTuber suggested putting a combination of cornbread mix and soda in a container with a hole cut into it. The rats are supposed to smell the cornmeal, partake of the special recipe, "swell up" and eventually succumb. 

On our way to an appointment in Pratt, Operation Packrat began.

Randy mixed together the corn muffin mix and the baking soda in a disposable container.

Then, he moved the bait into the golf cart shed. You'll notice that he's standing in the empty space where his golf cart usually "lives." Our cart is still in the shop.
 

He left similar bait traps in both our sheds at home. He's noticed that our cats have recently dined on two rats that they've "graciously" dragged into the yard.

Hopefully, by the time the golf cart returns to the Stafford golf course he will have had more luck discouraging the packrats than he's had with the beaver dam.

Packrat Central

I admit it: I'm a packrat.

I come by it naturally. My Dad likes his treasures. He has one collection of old tools. He has another of belt buckles. He has an unusual Winchester collection, which includes everything except the company's famous guns.

I have a terrible time letting go of things. It's not an affliction shared by my daughter or husband. Before Jill's party celebrating her graduation from high school, the two co-conspirators waited for a day when I was gone. Then they made a stealth attack: They sorted through the kids' old toys in the basement and carted them off to the dump before I could go through the piles, piece by piece.

It was a smart move on their part. I know that in my head. But my heart sees those dollies and tractors and trucks as an integral part of Jill & Brent's childhood. They are the things attached to memories of their childhood.

(I did put my foot down when it came to books. Those are safely stored away in plastic tubs patiently awaiting the arrival of grandchildren. And no, I'm not putting any pressure on the newlyweds. They can also be for the arrival of a great-nephew, which we are all anxiously awaiting any time now!)

Anyway, Jill & I sorted through some things in her room when she was home this weekend. I was embarrassed there were still a few boxes of wedding supplies in her bedroom, and here we were at the 1-year anniversary.

In my defense, there were things Jill had said she wanted to use in her own home. I didn't want to give away anything she actually wanted.

But once you get Jill started, it's time to break out the trash bags. We ended up with a laundry basket and several trash bags full of college notes.

I was OK about all of that (though I envision all the college book and tuition costs being hauled away in her Dad's pickup).

But then she started going through her high school photos and memorabilia.

"Wait, you're throwing away all your memories!" I exclaimed at one point as she stuffed a packet from a high school awards banquet into a plastic trash bag.

She calmly looked at me and said, "Mom, when was the last time you looked at stuff from your high school awards banquet?"

Well ... um ... humph.

"Well, maybe you'll want to show your kids some day," I offered.

She looked at me with a smile and said, "I'll tell them their Grandma made me clean out my childhood bedroom on my first wedding anniversary so that she could make it into a dressing room."

NO! No, I tell you. I am recording this so I will not be blamed at some future date for the lack of appropriate memorabilia and old boyfriend's cards at which any potential grandchildren could use to ponder, laugh and make clever remarks about their mother.

It was not my fault, I tell you.

Like a steamroller, Jill moved on to the closet (which, I have always shared with her since we have no room in our bedroom closet). And by the time she'd weeded out several things, I was inspired to add my own things to the boxes of items going to the church bazaar.

Jill just needed to stay longer so we could start working on the basement.

But, I'll have you know that my dear daughter's remarks did prompt a look at my bright orange high school senior yearbook, circa 1975, and other items I had stuffed in the pages I had lovingly edited a mere 35 years ago (Yikes!).

And believe it or not, there was a program from the Skyline High School Athletic Banquet, Saturday, May 3, 1975.

So, Jill, to answer your question: The last time I looked at my high school awards banquet memorabilia was August 10, 2010.

I will refrain from saying "I told you so." (Or maybe not.)