Leftovers

I promise I'll never mention the ant word again......but just give me a minute to brush off this one that's crawling up my arm....

So Mr. Gadget and I are getting ready for our return to Connecticut on Saturday, and that means it's time to clear out the leftovers.

Besides the meatloaf and the three hot dogs, I had just enough paper mache left over from my pig project to make a snowman ornament. Waffles, who you might remember, started out as a maple syrup jug.

But the ornie just required 1/4 of a newspaper page crinkled up and held together with masking tape. I'm hoping it'll be completely dry by Friday so I can pack it in my suitcase without worrying about le molde.

It must be slightly entertaining, or maybe somewhat puzzling, to anticipate what sorts of whimsical transformations I'll come up with next. I have plans, after I've perfected my style, to transform myself into a 30-year-old woman.....

So I went to Target today to see about some plastic storage boxes for keeping my condo craft supplies organized and dust-free and out of the reach of those pesky little.....well, I promised not to go there. And I was reminded of the days just before TG and BCG went off to college each September. We'd traipse off to Target to buy plastic containers for dorm-room storage. Under-the-bed boxes were a smart idea--if only we'd known exactly how many inches that translated to. But each dorm was different as was the storage space. We discovered a solution fairly quickly. Bed risers.

Then May rolled around and the college children returned home for the summer--with lots of stuff packed in those same boxes--stuff they didn't want to part with and which required storage in the parent basement. And as the parents helped the college children carry the heavy containers to the basement, the children would always say, "It's just temporary. I'll get it out of your way real soon."

Years later, at a time when the duped parents might be giving thought to downsizing, there would be a real dilemma. Do they continue telling the kids they really don't mind storing their stuff for free until whenever? Or do they have a secret garage sale--on a weekday so there's no chance the children will stop by to do their laundry? Then, in 10 or 15 years, after the parents have moved into smaller digs and the children start inquiring about their stuff, they do one of those V-8 taps to the forehead and tell the kiddies it must have been inadvertently left at the old place.....