The Red Barn

In my head, as I picture the wedding reception I've always imagined, only one big, red thing stands in the way. Literally.

Our red barn. 

This barn, finished in 1990, holds a lot of memories for our family. 

And a lot of bikes with rusted chains. 
And one-legged Barbies. 
And glassware. 
And faded floral arrangements. 

The red barn was the ideal building for a young family. In the red barn we learned how to operate a shop broom and a hula hoop. We found great value in a punching bag and an air compressor. We allowed the red barn to house our prized 4-H trophies, now scattered with dust. We've thrown halloween parties, birthday parties, graduation parties, anniversary parties and baby showers in the red barn. It's hosted a lot of "moments". 

But it's kinda full... 
Of the pieces of our life. 
And...(dare I say it? Momma reads this blog)....junk.  

We've talked so much about wedding plans for August. And for the most part, things are really coming together nicely. But instead of the elephant in the room, there is the huge, red barn in the yard that Momma and I have avoided for some time. 

It needs cleaned out. And we are terrible about throwing things away. By "we" I mean Momma, Dad, and myself - Laura and Luke are tossers.

I dedicated 3 hours a few weeks ago to "starting on the red barn" with Momma. We sorted through Christmas ornaments, welding rods, cassette tapes, plastic placemats and Taste of Home magazines from 1982. All things that have no value to anyone else. 

Somewhere between the tote of socks awaiting darning (for 15 years), the records, the baby buggies and the prom favors, Momma and I threw a few things away. But not the Writers Express. Or the really big fish. Or any of the things I've already mentioned. 

I've often wondered why Mom and Dad do keep so much. Dad grew up 1 of 12 children. Momma was 1 of 5. When they were raised, if something broke they learned to fix or re-use it, rather than throw it away. Personally, I have no real excuse other than a bleeding heart for things that have a memory tied to them. 

We created an even larger pile of things "on the fence". We just really feel like there is sentimental value in the cracked basketballs. I mean, I'm sure one of us kids learned how to dribble using one of them.

At the end of 3 hours of diligent sorting, Momma and I had tossed a total of 2 empty shoeboxes, 1 VHS tape from the 2002 WHR sale, a the cover of a book with no pages, 7 dried up ink pens, a candle with no wick left, 2 floppy disks and 4 faded silk sunflowers. And, a broken vase. And a smashed styrofoam ball that Dixie found; I have to give credit where credit is due.

As for all the aformentioned "stuff" - please call if you'd like anything. We have a wedding to pay for.