Creating a Halloween Memory Book the Un-Crafty Way
Incredibly, I have dismantled and boxed up Halloween for another year. And it’s not even Christmas yet. You can always tell when I am working on a book, because everything I would normally be avoiding and postponing becomes intensely urgent and compelling. I mean, who can write when the bathroom magazine bin needs purging and the spice cabinet needs sorting?
Anyway, before I sent the Halloween storage tub up to the attic, I culled the contents, chucking the stuff we hadn’t used this year (an easy decluttering tip I learned from Lori at ClutterDiet — any time you put away seasonal decor, ditch the items that didn’t make the cut). Over the years, I’ve tucked memorabilia and other papers into the tub with the decorations — kids’ sketches of their costume ideas, Halloween greeting cards from Nanny, magazines clippings of crafts or recipes. Once it was all destined for a proper Halloween Memory Book, during that brief, shimmering time when I had illusions that I would be the kind of Mom who faithfully assembled memory books with themed pages and calligraphed notes. But it’s all stayed in a jumble at the bottom of the box, and there it tends to stay when the box comes out of the attic each fall.
One thing I’ve discovered through my renewed and improved practice of journaling (thanks to Karen Walrond) is that life’s practical and mundane aspects can absolutely be chronicled along with the sentimental and deep. In fact, they should be chronicled together, because they happen together in life. I’ve kept all the “new baby” ephemera that Patrick’s mother collected from the time of his birth, and I love coming across the to-do lists and receipts tucked among the more obvious, “special” keepsakes.
So today I got a binder out of the school supplies box, and some page protectors, and I marked Halloween Memory and Idea Keeper across the spine. In went the cards, the sketches, the instructions for the furry monster wreath I’m still pretending I might make someday. No cropping, no calligraphy, no embellishment. Nothing special. It took all of five minutes, and I laid it on top of the decorations so that it’s the first thing can comes out of the box next year, a time capsule from Halloweens past and future, a nothing special record of this very special time.