Stuff
2006-01-31, 12:47 p.m.

One postcard purchased, one to go.

I got to thinking today about mementos. Why we hang onto things. We touch something that was once in someone else�s possession and for an instant their residual molecules combine with ours, turning that something into a bit of that person that we can possess, contain, control, subatomic bits of their essence fusing with ours so for nanoseconds, both we and that other person are intertwined, immortal. We are them, and they us.

Kinda gross, really. Cooties.

However, we are sensory creatures, and without accompanying sensory joggers, how many of our memories would be lost forever?

That doesn�t mean you have to be a pack rat in order to remember anything. If your address is listed as a chronic OSHA offender, if more than one small child has gone missing within the confines of your home, then perhaps it�s time to clean out your house and the ol� mental attic too. Even Sherlock Holmes said there wasn�t room enough in the noggin for everything. And I don�t care WHO you shook hands with, you still have to wash �em.

So what am I doing? Accumulating more stuff. But it�s good stuff.

Bonus: I got to hit up my mother-in-law for genealogical info while she�s still riding the Vicodin wave after knee-replacement surgery. If I were to follow her exultations literally, then Hubby�s family would be curiously inbred, which is of course not so, as noted by the absence of any Hapsberg-ish traits. No banjo music wafting around, either. She kept trying to tell me about three different branches of the family at once and got more than a little tangled. But hey, she sure was happy.

Surprise stuff is on the way for Daughter. After last week�s CRUSHING episode of Smallville, she and I were bummed that our favorite character got knocked off. He was a good role model on there. In real life, the actor�s done some great things for kids, including co-founding the Children�s Miracle Network. Coming soon in the mail, for my girl�

Dang, I was going to insert a link, but it�s sold out! Not surprising. They only had 25 to offer.

Curious?
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OKAY, okay, it�s driving her INSANE too, wondering what her surprise is. I�ll tell you, but not her. Promise not to tell? Because I�m enjoying her suspense to no end. It�s akin to smiling at someone constantly so they wonder what you�ve done. I�m a good mom.
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SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
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It�s a replica campaign poster for Jonathan Kent from the show, autographed to her by John Schneider. I�m going to frame it and hang it in her room. She is going to FREAK. And I may find myself being just a wee bit more inclined to do more dusting and cleaning in her room. Heh heh.

Cleaning is what I did last night. Hubby was being a tool and I thought it best to vent my wrath properly with a Swiffer, instead of doing what I REALLY wanted to with it. He has no idea how thankful he should be that I didn�t catch him leaning over. He had a lot of work pressure to complete a huge project before Feb. 1 (he finished yesterday, and today the bosses are ecstatic); he had a lot of school pressure, because he signed up for two intense courses (he got a clue and dropped one today); and the worst moment of all, he noticed that I had not yet watered the plants.

Yeah, I can see you�re devastated by that last one, too.

That one was, I think, a cover up for his tender ego-squashing snafu yesterday, which, being a good wife, I will remind him of for the next, oh, FOREVER. He was running late to get home to attend his online class and called me en route to log him in so he wouldn�t lose precious moments. He gave me his login name, which is part Daughter�s name, followed by August 29.

I asked him, why August 29th?

(You spot it coming, don�t you?)

With that I�m-a-good-Daddy smug air, he said, �Because it�s my daughter�s BIRTHDAY of course!�

He wasn�t so smug when I reminded him that her birthday is August 27th.

This is just as good as the �Welcome Home� banner he made on the computer when she was born, hung it over the kitchen doorway for her homecoming, and spelled her name wrong.

My mother predicts that not only will he not remember our child�s birthday, but now it�s got him so rattled he won�t remember how to log on to his class. She�s a good mother-in-law.

Poor guy. He expects too much of himself. You can ask him to design a building and interior schematics for a company expansion (yes, he�s done that), you can call him in the middle of the night with a tough equation and he�ll solve it (might not remember it in the morning though), you can ask him to rewire/plumb/build/revamp ANYTHING, but don�t ask him to remember important dates or spell. That is where I come in. I can�t fix it, but I sure can stare at it stupidly and spell it or recall the date it broke. And oh, he apologized for playing Flame The Wifey and so far is having a very good day.

Just don�t ask him to spell it.

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