Over the last few years I have donated or given away a few thousand books. My family, or at least certain members, have almost been defined by its personal libraries.

Now, once again, we are paring down the volumes as we face boxing up our lives in order to relocate them.

Chick is the poster child for shedding the no-longer-needed. I am frustrating the hell out of her with my affinity for clinging to wisps of feelings as manifested in all the lifescraps we are drowning in.

However tonight our first craigslist sales of furniture I’ve bought in the last few years went out the door leaving some small dabs of green in their stead. And Thursday will see quite a bit more head to the H.u.b.b.a.r.d. H.o.u.s.e. (and probably more on another day once we head into the maze of things that have been sitting in the garage for 3 years.

And on Friday, if I can complete the arrangements, tiny little Minnie kitty, the Princess Queen, the impish prankster, the teensy Abyssinian who would rather leap to my shoulders and give me kisses than eat, will fly back to Montreal, out of my life forever.

A bot more than a week after that, my best friend Pearl, the Queen, the healing, scrumptious Chartreaux, will get a last road trip with me nearly 6 hours to Atlanta to catch a ride back to Louisiana to her 1st home.

I will have a very, very hard time after these latest losses join the others of this terrible year of losses.

But over the next 2 days, going through my personal library to prune it back by many millions of words will be almost calming, progressive, positive.

And soon after I will be pitching out a virtual treasure trove of toiletries and donating a gaggle of garments that can no longer be squeezed around me.

And other things, too.

But not everything and surely not enough, but as surely more than I want to say farewell to, but hopefully enough to manage tomove and enough to start with again.

Starting with books…