Laurie Gould: Don


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Going for the Bronze

I was on quite a roll for a while!   I wrapped up my first visual album, Closet Songs, and then posted the songs, one a week, from March through April.   Not missing a beat, I followed it up with a blog post less than a week after the last song, all about selling my house.   It was my most widely-read post ever – I know, because I got seven comments – count ‘em; seven!!!   And only two of the comments were about Viagra!!

If at first you don't succeed, sell, sell again

I have just sold my house!  For the third time, in as many weeks.   It looks like this offer will stick, and this long process may finally be coming to an end.  There have been lots of ups and downs in recent weeks; and as with all such experiences, I am trying to milk it for life lessons.   The biggest, by far, is the importance of not taking things personally.

Because it is an oddly personal process, selling a house.   You invite the general public to quite literally come in and dig around in your underwear drawer—and you are asking them, implicitly, to pass judgement on what they see.   We have lived in this house for 21 years.   We raised our daughters here.  We’ve poured 21 years of money and love into its maintenance and upkeep, planting gardens, coloring a life.  While we are ready to move on, we love this place; and it is hard not to see it as an expression of who we are. 

But it’s the house that people are choosing, or not.  It’s not us as people.   This is the critical point to remember.

Closet Song #5: Red Dress

Here it is, fifth and final Closet Song!   Featuring Julia Ansolabehere on the clarinet and Richard Travers on the piano.   Special thanks abound:  to Rebecca Ansolabehere, Stephen Ansolabehere, Julie and Paul Fox, Allison Hausman, Cawfee Tawk, Kattalina Berriotxoa, and the West Suburban YMCA.

Enjoy!   And as always, I'd be thrilled if you'd share this.....

Closet Song #4: Cashmere Sweater

Closet song #4:   Cashmere Sweater!

It's spring, sort of; just about time to put those sweaters at the back of your closet for the season!  But you do it at your own risk....


Closet Song #3: Black Pants

And the third entry:   Black Pants, featuring Richard Travers on piano, Julia Ansolabehere on clarinet, and me doing most everything else:


And in case you are wondering:  after the big Selling-My-House-Cleanout, I am down to...let's see....only four pairs!

Closet Song #2 -- White Shirt

Featuring Richard Travers on the piano, Linda Toote on the flute, and Julia Ansolabehere on the clarinet.   Julia also serves as Airborne Food Choreographer.


Closet Song #1 -- Favorite Jeans

Enjoy!   And if you're so inclined -- please share this song with anyone who, say, has a closet.


Launching my first VMA!

I am getting ready to launch my very first Video Music Album!   Or maybe it's supposed to be called a Visual Music Album; I'm not really sure.   Basically, it will be exactly like Beyoncé's Lemonade!   Except for a few minor differences:

Private showing

I am holding a soggy bra when I get a text from our realtor:   can she bring a potential buyer through the house in three hours?

Of course, I respond.  And then I turn to the problem on hand:  where does one hang a just-washed brassiere to dry when one is showing one's house?

Kondo Association

For the past month or so we have been diligently cleaning out our house, giving things away as fast as we can.   Yes, I know, Tidying Up is having its cultural moment.  But this effort of ours has nothing to do with Marie Kondo!   We are cleaning out the house because we are getting ready to sell it.  And in order to do so, we need to make the house look uncluttered and spacious, inhabited by people with no discernible personality traits except that they are very clean.

After 21 years here, there is a lot stuff to clear out.   Now, I wouldn't really know, because I haven't watched her show, but I understand that Marie Kondo instructs us to thank each thing we throw out, and to kiss it as we let it go.   But I am not particularly sentimental about the stuff I'm throwing out.   It's just stuff.   And I'd just as soon not put my lips on 21 years of dust.

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