This morning, I cut apart a slinky. it was my neon rainbow slinky. I don't remember where or when I got. And true, it wasn't a prized posession. But it was a pretty cool toy. Not everyone had a rainbow slinky.

I was (and would still like to be) a selective toy-sharer. I never had problems when my friends came over. My toys were their toys when we frolicked together in the land of make-believe. I'm sure I had my favorite doll or whatever, but it was usually no-holds-barred playing.

Sharing with my family, on the other hand, is a whole different toy-sharing issue. I always hated our family hosting Thanksgiving ... because people would get into my stuff. And read: when I say "get into" that would always lead to BREAK or LOSE. Note that it wasn't a vendetta against me ... they were like that with everyone's toys. Was I? I duuno. And if I was, cousins, I apologize.

My family, when playing with other people's stuff, is careless, thoughtless, crude and just plain reckless. With this approach, breakage is inevitable. Then they leave the scene of the crime and hope no one notices until everyone is gone.

Games are missing pieces, my Clue game was destroyed (still mad at this), red clay was ground into the *NEW* carpet in the hallway and Barbie doll room, along with many spilled pops and left to their own devices ... Jason and Michael made the wall full of hundreds of tiny holes b/c I didn't supervise them when they were playing darts. My god, I told them to becareful since it was just on the wall ... they were 10 or so, that was a huge mistake.

We figured out a system to combat the toy breakage. Anything in the patio was free range. Barbie doll room was only if I was there and anything of value in my room was put away before the family gathering.

And to put the destruction of my family into perspective for you, I'll map out the disrespect ... My cousin Sara and I were playing with my barbies ... okay so far, so good. She has my new ken doll with the brown hair (rare in those days) and she breaks the head off. It's kind of scary/impressive the detail I remember this in. My eyes got wide, I was shocked....that was my newest doll! She shrugs her shoulders, and shoves the head back on ... (and if you played with barbies at all, you'll know that the shove method rarely fixes it for a long period of time).

She didn't blink an eye, say she was sorry or show any remorse or concern for destroying my toy. This should have been a lesson to me. After all, they say we live as we once played. Nonetheless, tangent adverted ....

Somehow the rules stopped being in effect ... I think it was when I moved to Green Bay. Suddenly anyone could play with my Barbies.

Okay, this sounds silly, trival and something a 22-year-old shouldn't be concerned with ... but I had a substancial Barbie collection... full kitcehen set, grocery store, food, entertainment center, bathtub, nursery and master bedroom. Not to mention the three story house with real carpet, vinal floor and wallpaper. This was something I was going to cherish and give to my children. This was my childhood.

Now little kids are playing with my barbies ... four year olds ... losing things, wrecking things, destroying their beautiful hair ...

Any little kids .. who's not even related just wanders back to the room and starts playing .. without asking! GODDAMMIT STAY OUT OF MY BARBIE DOLL ROOM!

After Jan Carl's little terror wrecked some stuff, mom put away most of clothes, dolls and all the little things. Good.

But really .. it's hard to be the bitch who says you can't play in there ... so I guess I just need to keep putting things away (brief break to put away the two best dolls and more little items).

Now, my nieces are respectful. I love Erika (Happy Birthday, btw), sighing when she walks in and sees a mess. Before she does anything else, she straightens everything out, arranges the furniture nicely, and puts away the little things. Courtney is like that too. They can play. They are welcome to play. Because they aren't going to break anything! They realize .. somehow .. that what they are playing with is special. Joannie's Ashley is the same.

So I sit here, looking at the three barely useable slinky segments. And where was the slinky? Shoved on the top of the house, by one little devil, hoping no one would notice the kinks in the coil that makes the toy un-slinkable.

Starry Night at Boy Meets World

I was feeling nostaglic this afternoon ... or I don't know, inspired.

So I pop in, after some debate, an episode of Boy Meets World. Immediately I remember walking through the Phoenix Club, going to the 4E office and hearing the familiar tones from the tv... and seeing the college guys going crazy and transfixed over this show.

That just makes me laugh. So much.

So this wasn't just any episode. It took my breath away. And I found today that it still does.

It's the episode where Angela and Topanga go to the art musuem to check out the Van Gogh exhibit. (holy crap!)

The previous episode(s) Corey chatted up this girl and they kissed. Needless to say it looked pretty dim for the two love birds.

And then in one shimmering moment in front of Van Gogh's irises there he was. Topanga had ended his baseball career all with one fast ball to the butt.

Ah, but he had found art ... and there he was basking in the glory of brilliance ... Starry Night. (Now kiddos, I know what you're thinking, but I had already had my Van Gogh fan card validated before this night)

Ricky Ferris, played by Jonathan Jackson (aka: General Hospital's Lucky) absolutely took my breath away. I would like to think that it wasn't Jackson that puts butterflies in my stomach but the guy he respresents.

They talked about art and culture and they met in a flippin' museum for godsakes! He took her out to this amazingly quaint French restaurant and then drew her a bouquet of gorgeous flowers.

Just writing about it makes my heart flutter. This guy ... though fictious in this form ... is the guy I want ... he's who I'm searching for. And I'm not settling for Joe on the Street, who doesn't know Starry Night from speckly easter eggs. He needs to make butterflies flutter up and by and around just as Ricky Ferris did.

And until that day ... well I don't know .... I do look forward to that day and every day after it. And though I'm not less of a person until that day he comes ... I am itching to see "Starry Night" in person a little bit more.

I'm also itching to watch Boy Meets World again .... oh how I wished she would choose Ricky!

Topanga: Just tell me what you see in the painting, Cory.
Cory: [peers at Starry Night] I see an attack.
Topanga: An attack?
Cory: An attack from another world.
Topanga: An attack from another world. All right, let's look again. What about the relationship between God and man?
Cory: Oh, okay. I was about to get there. See, God, unhappy with how some particular humans treat other particular humans who love them, has decided it's the end of the world. And I think he's right.
Topanga: God is protecting the people in this little town! They live their lives and they come out of their houses, and they see this sky and they know God's protection and love. And that everything will be all right.
Cory: Listen, how do you expect me to see good in anything when I feel so bad in here?

Smile and shrug it off

I realized this week that I was letting myself get wound too tight. If something went wrong, it would wreck my whole day. I would let the littlest things eat at me, so that I was generally cranky and it ruined my mood before it even hit noon.

Even after time I wouldn't let myself get over it.

So now I've taken a different approach. I fume. I get it out. And I move on. And when I feel myself getting mad about something that happened ... I smile and shrug it off.