Sunday, July 1, 2007

Torrance Dust Bowl and the Green Foot


My son's room is in need of cleaning.

I know. He's plenty old enough to clean his own damn room, but he won't. I didn't clean my room as a kid unless my mom threatened severe bodily injury, which she was more than happy to dole out without warning. I don't hit my kid, which is another topic for discussion. Well, I have flicked him on the head from time to time...

His room is very dusty, and its a wonder he isn't choking on the dust mites that have multiplied by the billions in the giant dust bunnies - make that dust bears - scampering about on the floor. When dust grows teeth, it's time to clean.

Part of the problem is he's a pack rat. He gets it from me. For example, he's eleven, and in his desk there was a collection of finger paints. They were courting a pack of "My First Pencils", and a Toy Story stamper set. I think I bought the stuff when he started kindergarten. I also noticed he kept every stumpy crayon, chewed colored pencil, desiccated marker, and worn eraser he ever had. I'm hoping someone else has use for erasers with pencil holes drilled in them.

Other items headed for the thrift store: an empty Build a Bear box/house, assortment of faux Beanie Babies, 12 lbs of picture books, unbuilt models (mint, in the box!), Yugioh figures - tons of usable crap. Unfortunately, he wants to have a yard sale. He has visions of making big money unloading his stuff at close to original retail to a bunch of local rubes who don't know any better. He wasn't impressed with my explanation about charities, donations and the Federal Income Tax. Our compromise is that I'm putting up a few items for sale on craigslist. Mom has no spine.

Like I stated before, he gets the pack ratting from me. One item in the 'to go' pile is actually mine. It's a big, stuffed, green fake fur foot I got when I was eight years old. It's been playing footsie with some other toys in the little cabinet over his closet. Given that I'm in my late 40's, I think it's time I retired the thing. What was I thinking? Did I really believe that it was going to become a family heirloom? Or, was I planing to haul it over to the Antiques Roadshow? Feh.

If anyone is in the market for a vintage foot, look for it at the Value Village in Carson.

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