Penguin, Pirate Ship, Construction Worker and Cowboy

Day 345: Penguin, Pirate Ship, Construction Worker and Cowboy

There's something old-fashioned, almost quaint, about these little plastic figures. I wonder if my father played with toys like these back in the 1940s. Maybe a few survived until he left for college in 1957, just as these few survived Sam's mock battles, barters and forays.

Granted, plastic (and all its environmental bads) isn't so old-fashioned. Just yesterday, I heard about a woman who attempted to give up plastic for Lent. Toothpaste, shampoo, toilet paper - she was able to live a fairly normal lifestyle except for a few staple items. I guarantee, though, that every mother would rather have toy soldiers made from plastic than from lead. Let the Doldrums be damned.

Today I'm not worrying about lead toys. We've decided to allow Sam to drive himself to Wixom tonight for two soccer games. Just under eight months with a driver's license. I hope and pray that he paid attention in driver's ed to those dire warnings about speed limits and merging.

Time moves inexorably forward. Kids grow up and leave home, parents get older. When the kids are little, you keep lead out of the toybox. You pull over when the babies unfasten their seat belts. You choose G movies and Teletubbies. You make sure they wear hats and mittens, warm coats and boots. You sing them to sleep, perhaps occasionally catching them under the covers with a flashlight. You watch their grades, feed them a home-cooked meal, and drive them to soccer games. It's a lot of work, and in some ways, it's the easy part.

Later, you let them drive themselves, a half hour on the freeway on a wintery Saturday night. You let them choose their college and their major. You give them unlimited screen time. You can't make them read, or eat right, or sleep the right number of hours. You can't make them do their homework, or walk the dog, or get to class on time. You don't choose their friends.

Next thing you know, they are stronger, faster, smarter than you. They see better, think better, reach farther. You're like Wile E. Coyote, chasing the roadrunner off a cliff, legs pumping for a just a moment before gravity takes over.

Free fall.

Egyptian Remains

Day 344: Egyptian Remains

I think it's fair to say that these Egyptian remains were more a process than a product. Emma Jane had some fun painting them when I brought them to her, a souvenir of a mom-alone trip to the Field Museum in Chicago. This was back during her mythology obsession days, when she read things like Greek Gods and Heroes for fun. Once the painting was done, she lost interest in the objects. I don't think I'd be hurting anyone's feelings if I got rid of them. 

Meanwhile, I'm off to Muncie to collect the real girl for spring break. (Did I say spring? It is -5 outside.)

Owner's Manuals

Day 343: Owner's Manuals

Cleaning and organizing the last attic shelves, I found very little to get rid of. Interestingly, I did find an actual missing shelf. Now that it's back where it belongs on the built-in, there is a bit more order to it all. 

Office Supply Trash

Day 342: Office Supply Trash

This stuff is trash masquerading as office supplies. These objects were together in a little pod of things that my next-door-neighbor Barbara left when she moved. You remember, back six or eight years ago, when I told Barbara that I would take anything she couldn't bring herself to get rid of. I promised either to use it, or get rid of it myself.

Barbara couldn't bring herself to get rid of these, and so I kept them, too. The mailing envelope is tattered and torn and would need lots of tape to make it usable. The tape, however, is not sticky.

I wonder if unwillingness to get rid of something is contagious.

Staplers

Day 340: Staplers
Think of all the resolutions a person could make to become happier and healthier. I've got several myself. A half-hour of yoga every day. At least seven strands of needlepoint a week. Forty-five minutes of aerobic exercise six days a week. Reading a minimum of three articles in The New York Times every day. Daily dog walks. Twice weekly dog brushing (that last one is new). And, of course, the stuff project.

I wonder, sometimes, if the structure and busyness of all these resolutions masks deeper things, like nail polish over grass-stained nails. I've adjusted quite nicely to Emma's being away. Will I miss her more when the stuff project is over?

I consider myself quite lazy. I never try to do my best. I only try to do the minimum. In my mind, this is strategic. Why do more than is necessary to accomplish the goal? This is why a doll boot or a few books or a broken WaterPik suffice. Or still more office supplies.

Office supplies. They are still coming out of the woodwork. Why do we have three of them? Strangely enough, all three work. I elected to keep the retro gray one. The other two went into the Gardens to become part of the office supply shelf.

Lazy or strategic, many days I would rather just go home and crash with a cup of hot tea and a steampunk romance.

Harpo's Hair

Day 339: Harpo's Hair

Before

After

Saved this in horizontal orientation
15 times but blogspot won't take it

The first time Harpo got a haircut, the groomer kept the clippings in a plastic grocery bag. She thought I might want to knit a sweater out of them. Not.

Since then, he has learned to hate haircuts. Hence the long delay, hence the pleasant little note. I actually bought one of those ridiculous fleece coats for him, thinking it might mitigate his embarrassment. Unfortunately, the medium was too small, and the large was too large.

Hoping the weather warms up son.

Misfit Toys

Day 338: Misfit Toys

Who remembers the Island of Misfit Toys? Those who do will know that the toys were all charming, and cute, and sweet, in a quirky kind of way.

A train with square wheels.

A wind-up mouse in a set of nesting dolls.

A train with square wheels.

A polka-dot elephant (how moderne!)

A pink fire truck, a blue bicycle, a blue car and a white rocking horse (perhaps it is discrimination on the basis of color?).

A bird that swims, a bear that flies, and an airplane that doesn't.

A cowboy who rides an ostrich.

A Charlie-in-the-Box.

The toys I am getting rid of today include:

A plastic figure with no head.

A plastic wig with no doll.

A black plastic combat boot, one inch log.

A grey plastic wheel with no vehicle.

Five dominos from three different sets.

A single pink popping bead.

An off-white plastic mystery thing.

Good luck finding loving homes, misfit toys.