The piggy rocked helplessly on the floor, his copper innards scattered nearby. My son was up on a chair, plastered to the window, peering out.
“When you are finished playing with these pennies [unvoiced: that I told you not to play with because they’re filthy], go wash your hands again for a really long time like you just did.” I was sure that his presence at the window was concocted to suggest that he wasn’t, in fact, playing with the pennies from his bank, but he didn’t even seem to hear me.
“Mommy!” he intoned in his most excited, most reverent voice, “You have to come see this! It’s a new dumpster! It’s green and it has a blue top!”
Now I have seen many dumpsters in differing degrees of repair or stages of usefulness, and this is certainly a new one. It has thick bright enamel and, as previously mentioned, a new plastic blue lid. Three of the neighbors were in the parking lot, two admiring it and a third pausing to talk about it as he went by with a box of lamps and rags.
Let it be known that this is just about the most excited I’ve seen my child get with something he noticed on his own in the surrounding world. Passing construction sites, taking airplane rides, and watching zoo animals, with the exception of Shamu, all take a backseat to watching the neighbors watch the new dumpster. Nevermind the ninety pounds of toys in his room, he’s usually nagging for a movie or whining that he doesn’t want to play when he’s at home, but give him a magnet, a tuning fork, a dusty old paintbrush, and a jar of change, and he’s busy for hours and hours.
On another note, I went out this weekend and struggled terribly trying to find something to wear. Ugh. It is going to be sooner rather than later that I’m organizing a clothes swap, so if you have things that you’re ready to part with, consider putting them in a box and saving them for a girlfriend who might be interested.
This pair of bronze gladiator heels is my go to pair for summer. I wear them with shorts and dresses, anything in the metallic family, the tans and browns, and the greens. They look darker in this picture than they are, but I never claimed to be a photographer. It’s hard to take pictures of inanimate objects with indoor lighting. These shoes are about three years old. I beat them up pretty bad the first night I ever wore them out, in an escapade that involved running, curbs, police officers, and my cell phone being dropped, kicked, and stepped on in one fell swoop. Anyway, now the left shoe is broken in the footbed, like what was once immobile and solid is now cleaved and flexible, in addition to desperately needing new heel thingys. I get my shoes repaired by American Cleaners (407-645-5537, they have two locations and they do excellent shoe repair), and although they are good, I will be lucky if these shoes survive the summer with some semblance of presentability. I said initially that I would replace things if they were damaged beyond repair, but Barb’s comment that that really lowers the stakes definitely has some merit. I’m going to try not to replace them.
