Am I the only one who has trouble knowing what to keep and what to throw away when it comes to the stuff on my refrigerator—or more accurately, what is kept under the magnets on my refrigerator door? With a blank canvas of about 3 x 6’, the possibilities of filling up all that space with STUFF are endless. Therein lies the problem. What goes up there and how long does it stay?

For instance: do you keep up that picture of your obnoxious 3rd cousin’s pudgy-wudgy, bald as an 8-ball, newborn, until they come visit you? Because you know they will! They’ve been threatening, saying Seinfeld-like, “You gotta see the baby!” for a while now. And if they do come and it’s not there, well, you get the picture. No pun intended. You may not love your cousin, but you love his heiress mother—which happens to be your aunt—and you’ve been told you’re in her will. What about the early childhood drawings, ten million and counting, that your preschool children or grandchildren have presented you with—the ones with scrawled sticks and balls and backward C’s. The list goes on and on. Christmas photo cards? From 1994? Come on, really?

I have one friend who has such a busy social calendar, you can’t even see her refrigerator. If it wasn’t for the little ray of light beside the water/ice dispenser, I don’t believe even she could find it. It seems Trisha is personally invited to every shower, christening, blessing of the animals, pig pickin’, hayride, theatre opening, store opening, ground breaking or ship christening within a hundred miles. I don’t know that she attends all these events, but she is sure to remember them, nonetheless, since the blaze of colors, letters and symbols flashes before her sleepy eyes every morning, when fixing coffee.

For me, finding the magnets in the first place is a very serious endeavor, and most have a story behind them: I’ve bought magnets on vacations in the Bahamas (oh really, who hasn’t?). I’ve been given block magnets of fancy A’s, for Ann, with the FROU black-striped and hot-pink-bow background. Cute! I’ve bought magnets with our daughter’s names, Kelly and Katie, each letter spelled out. Actually, the grands, Madison and Carly, love to rearrange them. KLY. ATK. One of my favorite magnets is of Lucy Ricardo, laughing, chin upturned, wearing a chef’s hat, chocolate smeared everywhere, with Ricky licking her face. You gotta love her! And since I’m often nicknamed Lucy for the same erratic, crazy-but-not-dangerous behavior, I get it. Plus, even though I call Russell Hub-Russ, Ricky is just as accurate.

But every now and then, I know it’s time to de-post and re-post my refrigerator magnet stuff. Standing there, I stop and pause, peruse and ponder, because if I don’t clean the refrigerator door (not the inside area, that’s done, like, never), soon I won’t even find the door handle to open it, though on second thought, that would be great for my diet. What stays? What goes? Our daughter, Katie’s weekly calendar, which hasn’t been updated since January? Yeah, that goes. A reminder for a dental visit last November? Out! Scraps of paper with scrawled phone numbers, passwords or directions. Bye! If in doubt, throw it out!

And on and on it goes. I no sooner remove the old stuff, “out with the old”, than the new stuff “in with the new” appears. It’s a game, really. Most days I don’t give this a second thought, BUT, if I happen to be in one of  my aseptic, aesthetic, non-apologetic cleaning modes, there’s no telling what I might do. Here’s the thing: Rarely do I throw anything out, (for good): last summer’s bridal shower invitation for my niece, Lindsay, a favorite quote surrounded by beach and sailboats, the program for my play in 2004, in Georgetown, “Life Is Short.” Instead, I gather it all up, one by one, and seal it in a Ziploc bag until another day. But then I hesitate, pulling at least one back out: The cocktail napkin with the sexy blonde, saying, “high maintenance doesn’t BEGIN to cover it.”

One magnet that has literally stood the test of time—over twenty years, in fact—was made by Katie when she was in kindergarten. In fact, it’s so special that it stands alone with no need for competition or distraction placed under it. It’s a rather crude wooden heart, painted pink though now faded, which reads, simply, “I Love You, Katie.” And that’s one reminder I never want to forget.

Ann Ipock “Life Is Short, So Read This Fast!” www.annipock.com amipock@ec.rr.com