After a year of engaging in armed warfare with her oldest son, Corb's mom is getting ready for the move out of her house. In the next few weeks, she'll be moving in with her boyfriend, who just had his house totally done over, after a fire gutted it a while back. He lived in a trailer while it was being repaired.
All of this moving means that there's plenty of good stuff that she's looking to get rid of for nothing. Chairs, couches, computers....they all have got to go. Cheap.
Sunday afternoon, I staked my claim. One thing just jumped out and bit me square on the ass. And no, it wasn't her antique clock or vibrating recliner. Have you ever known me to be as sensible as all that?
No, no, nothing sensible at all. Instead, I started drooling over her...metal tin for Premium Saltine Crackers.
Look, it's a sentimental thing, I admit it. My mother had one exactly like it when I was growing up. Of course, my mum's is old and rusty now (her tin, that is. Shame on you!). Corb's mother, on the other hand, kept her saltine tin in fairly good shape. I begged and I pleaded, and Corb's mother finally let me have her tin.
I think it's funny how a remnant of your childhood can make such an impact, years later. I get really sentimental about things like that. My brother's the exact same way. He spent about a month, last year, searching for a ship that had silver sails and a clock in its center, just because my father used to have one just like it at his bar. Both of us ended up being packrats for the past. I guess it's genetic.
Of course, there are some things from the past that you can never retrieve. I still have my rare copy of All Star Comics number three, but I'll never be able to retrieve the miniature stories I used to write about little people living in a magical kingdom. I will probably end up with (thanks to my parents) the two books about constellations that were written by Curious George author H.A. Rey, which I used to skim through for hours on end, but I doubt that I'll retrieve my beloved copy of Miss Suzy, from when I was five. I think poor Miss Suzy was thrown away when my parent's moved out of our house. I could get a copy, I suppose, but it just wouldn't have the same significance.
By the way, I'm sure it's just me, but there's something about this Don Imus flap that bothers me. I'm not saying that what he said wasn't out of line: it surely was. But I can't help but observe that Isaiah Washington called T.R. Knight a faggot on two separate occasions, and wasn't called upon to resign--in fact, he received an NAACP Image award, a few short months later.
Two wrongs don't make a right, but I just wish that we all could exercise tolerance and respect, and not just for the things that are closest to our hearts.
Yesterday, I met up with Psychic Sue, at Corb's hotel. She was visiting family for Easter, and my guy hooked her up with a good room.
Later in the day, she sent me the following photo, from my beloved adopted town of Henniker. No shots of Gunther wearing bunny ears, but isn't it disgusting that they can form Easter bunnies out of snow at this time of year?