J is for Junk

Junk seems to accumulate no matter what I do to stop it.  I tell myself that I am not to bring anything else home to keep it at a dull roar.  No matter what I do or don't do,  I am surrounded by junk.  Much of it is wound up in memories that, for some reason, are too precious to abandon. It makes me sad, this being tied to objects. 

Grandma's egg cups.

Pottery from Ontario trip and lovely batiks.

Sometimes I go on a cleaning out frenzy and am able to get rid of tons of stuff. Then someone gives me a present and I groan because I know they expect me to display it proudly just because it is from them.  I like getting presents - don't get me wrong.  I like presents that are consumable or I can plant or have a function that is readily apparent.  Decorative items are wonderful but serve no practical purpose other than to be aesthetically pleasing and need dusting.  Sigh.

The pictures I have displayed are what I am talking about. ( I use the word junk only because this is j.)  These items have huge sentimental value to me.  The egg cups were my Grandmother's, the soup tureen is a memory from a friend long deceased, the pottery represents a trip to Stratford for the Shakespearean festival, the batiks a lovely gift from a relative and the topiary is just junk to make things look nice.