The Popover Method

I've been in the mood to empty closets and pare down my possessions. I want to open my drawers and see every item they store inside. I'm wondering if I need so many sweatshirts. I'm ready to part with the shoes I never wear and the jeans that don't fit. Now that our youngest kid outgrows hand-me-downs, we like to hand them out. Next winter, when we need pairs of socks and gloves, we're going to find an even number.

Some items will have to stay, so sue me. I've unearthed a newborn-sized hospital wristband dated 1997, a glass jar of tiny baby teeth, and a few locks of hair from first haircuts. I won't discard my ukulele, although I rarely play it. I'm content with a wild assortment of colored pencils and an impressive array of cardstock. There's this popover tin in the basement that I've never used, but the idea of making a batch someday gives me hope for whimsical Sunday brunches in my future.

Stuff. It can weigh you down, or it can ground you. It's been a good time sorting some of that out.