Could you make it whole by crying til your eyes and nose were red?
And wouldn't it be easier to treat it as a joke,
And say you're glad 'twas dolly's, and
Not your head that broke!'
Remember autograph books? Or am I just really that old?
When I was a kid the autograph book made a brief resurgence
from the 1940's. We had our friends write something cute, clever,
or complimentary in it. I still have mine; the pages haven't yet turned
Annyyywwayyy....the little poem at the top here was what my
Aunt Honey wrote in my autograph book when I was 11 or so years old.
For some strange reason I've always remembered this poem and thought of it
several times this week while recovering from the kick in the head I receive
disguised as a home invasion and robbery. First - and last - one ever ...
I'm making sure of that.
Note to Self: It is just stuff. Valuable, some loaded with sentiment and
therefore irreplaceable, but stuff all the same. My house wasn't trashed;
my animals were not hurt; and the message was received loud and clear:
Some People Just Suck And You Have To Protect Yourself From Them.
End of story.
The robbery delayed a post I've been wanting to do about the
transformation of a hunk of junk acquired curbside recently. In the past
few years I have made a conscious effort to unload valuable antique
furniture and furnish my house with inexpensive items so
that when I die - (this sounds morbid but it's not, it's just practical)
- my sons can dispose of my things with ease...
just put it all at the road for a future curbside shopper. Ever the thoughtful
mama...even in death, that's me! Perhaps the robbery of all my gold jewellery
was the Universe's way of helping me toward my goal! If so, thanks a bunch for
sending Lindsay Lohan over to my place to rob me blind. So thoughtful.
My long suffering friend Tom provided the muscle and the truck to get this to
my place. (Tom feels sure my neighbours think we are dating because he
is constantly observed carrying cast off crap into my yard).
P.S. We're not dating; Tom is married to a wonderful woman named Mary.
Tom and I painted the cabinet on a very hot and humid day.
I don't know why he does these things; I would never be friends
with me. Tom is one of the good guys.
Left the cabinet outside over night to air out and acquire the scent of lavender.
Carried inside and upstairs by Annie and Connor - I have some great friends,
lemme tell ya - I applied lace panels to the doors and loaded it up with sweaters.
Made some cinnamon-clove, and lavender sachets to tuck amongst the sweaters.
So, if you break into my home to rob me and you get chilly
you'll know where to find a sweater. You're welcome.