Melt down time! I finally discovered what 'stuff' I care about. I packed the kitchen - no problem. It didn't even faze me. However, what did faze me big time was packing my pottery. Almost everyone collects something. Yes, everyone. I collect three things: rocks - yes, I'm aware that's very strange. Seashells because Sarah and I love the beach, and hand thrown pottery.

I started collecting pottery before I could afford to collect it. In college a friend of a friend was a potter, and I loved his stuff! (Good call on my part since then he's become the 'big dog' at the Rhode Island School of Design.) He couldn't believe in 1970 that anyone wanted to buy his stuff. I certainly did. Twenty years later he tried to buy back some pieces I had of his, so he could break them. They weren't 'good enough'. I just laughed and refused. We collectors do tend to hang on to our collections with a surprising ferocity. actually had the balls to suggest that I could do with fewer rocks. I just looked at him like he had just graduated from idiot school. Give up my rocks? NEVER! In my heart of hearts I know, of course, that my rocks are as stupid and worthless as my 41 year old greeting card collection, but it makes no difference.

Ah, but I can justify my pottery pieces. Now we're talking ART. I'm always on the look-out for pieces that really speak to me. I've gotten more and more selective as I've acquired pieces over a 40 year span. My theory is that hand thrown pottery is some of the last accessible art. You can find it everywhere. It's affordable. Each piece is unique. I have pieces from almost everywhere I've traveled even if I had to mail it back. I think the best collecting story is the Delft fruit bowl story. In 1980, I wanted a piece of Delft, but didn't want to carry it around all over Europe (we were there for 30 days - great trip). I waited until the airport when I was leaving to buy my piece. Drake, poor fool, was really tired at this point, and said: "Just go over to the store and buy what you want." I took him at his word and spent $250 on a fruit bowl. That put him into shock - remember, this is 1980! Believe me, he's NEVER said that again. He has always made sure he participated in the pottery buys after that. I have racu pieces, porcelian pieces, earthenware pieces, a triangular platter on triangular legs, red ones, blue ones, green one, black ones, white ones. Oh the list goes on.

Two days ago, I had to pick only a few pieces to take with me. That put me into agony. Then I had to bubblewrap all the rest for storage. (I now have 'bubblewrap' arm.) I finally told Drake: "I'm mad'; I'm sad; and this is ALL YOUR FAULT. You'd better put on some happy music." I wrapped and wrapped. I almost cried several times, but I kept mentally pulling up my sox and perservering. I perservered to the tune of seven boxes of wrapped pottery. I kept thinking.......'I bought this piece in Acapulco in 1973. This one is from Boston - and it was a surprise that arrived after we got home. This one came from Vienna. I found this delicate piece in the Carribbean.' It felt like a funeral. And the worst part? I'm still sad.

I've truly had very few qualms about this great adventure. To be laid low by 'stuff' has been a humbling experience. I guess I'm not as immune to the feelings that I need my stuff as I had hoped. Good news, though, - couldn't care less about the kitchen stuff.