I hate book-endings. And then some off topic ramblings that seem really important

Brevity sucks, and I tried to make this post brief. Fail. I read that book by Stephen King, 11/16/63 (or some date, I mean it isn't a random date but the date JFK died, and may he RIP but history dates are lame) and Agorafabulous by Sara Benincasa this week. Yep. Two books. One week. Like a thousand pages.


 I realize I HATE book-endings. I get so absorbed in a book (IF it is a good book) that when it ends, I seriously mourn. Not a broke-up-with-my-boyfriend, my-cat-died mourning, but like when you have to go back to work after vacation, or a relative has to fly home, or your favorite completely ratted out skirt must be retired after ten years. That kind of mourning. I finished Agorafabulous and wanted more. I had many questions to ask. I'd engaged in a conversation with the author in my head, as if she were real. I mean, she is, but not when she is just in my head. And now she is gone and didn't answer my questions. Pooh.

Why is it all my new fav' authros have only one book out? I need them to be all Danielle-Steel-style-thousands-of-books authors. And yes, King has that many books but I've only liked two of his books, so there. But with reading Laurie Notaro (read all her books), Jen Lancester (read all her books), Jenny Lawson (1 book dammit) and Sara Benincasa (1 book dammit)...I have new literary bffs in my head and an empty sad nook next to my mourning self.

 And I also have inspiration for more blogging. I want to make it into a book but I also want to become an educational change agent, some famous big whig (in hoity toity Stanford-esque crowds, but hey, I'm not one for fascinating Nascar crowds...that was so...college days) and to make six figures and be a well respected intellectual elitist. Those people, the "man" type people, who run the world, and especially people that teach and supervise children, are supposed to be pious nuns or something. They can't be people that blog about Tiffany Takesalot (of money not...you fowl person), dead rattlesnakes in the freezer, the evils of college, and crazy family. So it....sucks... I need advice. Again, someone running for school board and trying to run a school (you know, if there were jobs) can't talk about Tiffany-rattlesnake-prozac-parties. Nope. But my wacky tiffany-rattlesnake-prozac-party self is, well, me, but so is that academic self that throws out words like "disenfranchised" "technocratic liberal" "social efficiency model of eugenics" (<--which I am against), "psychometrics" "interdisciplinary innovation" and "prescribed automaton" and pushes to revolutionize the system that is education.

 Sigh.

borderin' horderin'

borderin' hoarderin'

it is a buggy, you pervs

see, a buggy.

The show Hoarders scares me, but who doesn't it scare? I had friends growing up whose parents were either hoarders or slobs, with paths through a mess three feet high, no joke. I am betting on slob though, because my friend's cabinets, the color of pine tree trunks, were magically a light maple when I went to visit a friend who moved into the house after the pine-cabinet-slob friends moved out. I complimented the pretty new cabinets they had installed, and was told nope, all they did was clean the cabinets. Eww. Double eww.

One of my mom's many mannequins.
I'll admit she is pretty, she has over
1,000 rhinestones, and is only
part of my mom's collection of both
mannequins and jewelry. Her name is
Liz- the mannequin, not my mom.

 Anyways, my mom is not a hoarder like that, or those you see on TV, but, she is obsessed with yard sale "treasures", jewelry, 1930s stuff, and anything artsy.   And she is obsessed with mementos. This sickness was passed onto me, so I had kept every letter passed to me from elementary on ,every toy I had owned, clothes that no longer fit, every piece of homework...you get the point. I purged my junk and my habit when I went to college, except some stuff I forgot about at home and what, almost 15 years later, its still there. I have nightmares, honestly,where I am back at college in the dorms but keeping every little thing, and I have to move or clean or something and haven't any time and theres just too much stuff....then I wake up .

 So my mom brought three boxes over yesterday. I did actually find my kindergarten report card cool, but that's more from a nerdy teacher perspective. I have no use for 25 yr old dusty books from third grade, and I doubt my son will be into "Are you There, God, its me ,Margaret" but my mom thinks otherwise. I don't need a planner, used, from 2006. I don't need an unused notebook from my frosh year in college. I don't need a used giftbag from 1995. I don't need my student of the month award from1st grade or the free ticket to Knott's Berry Farm, 1991, awarded to me. Apparently, my son will want this stuff, because my mom says so. Also he will totally want my teeth. Yes, my teeth,because my mom has every single baby tooth I ever lost plus my letters to the tooth fairy. Since Santa never ate the milk and cookies, obeyed my wish list, or wrote me back, the tooth fairy filled the gap. My mom was all pouty and said fine,she'd keep my teeth and tooth fairy letters because my son will indeed want them. My mom says there is something wrong with me since I do not keep momentos. She said she kept her first boyfriends cigarette butt for over 20 years, yet I am the one with a screw loose. Lose? Loose? Loo-s not loo-z. Anyways. She has kept every single doodle I have EVER done, fro mage 3 on . And lemme tell you, I was a doodle fiend and probably drew at least 5 things a day, no joke ,as I recall at age 4 I had insomnia one night and drew unicorns until midnight. What the hell do I need 100 dusty unicorn scribbles for? Yes. Yes I ended up with, well, not 5 boxes of unicorns but a booklet of awesome 4 year old drawings. I knew at the very least, not only would I end up with 3 boxes of "precious mementos" (I was able to "return" one for my mom to keep because I was banned from tossing it) and some good blogging opportunities.

drugs are bad m'kay? As I see it, the octo-armed person riding the bees is
smoking drugs, he's on the right, and there is a psychadelic
spiderweb monster plant growing in the sunshine on the left.
This is why parents should not smoke.

I see a teddy bear don't you? He has sideways limbs, boxing gloves, and....I dunno
the rest of it.