I’m trying to decide if I should just redirect you over to Aiming Low, where I have a post up about all the things for which I am thankful and it’s a 16 item list that is chock full of nuggets such as being thankful for the fact that Isabella still mispronounces the word vanilla (it’s always vallina) and being thankful for the untag button on facebook. It’s almost worth a cross-post, it’s that good. But, you know, I’ve always got something to say, although, as I sit here at my parents’ kitchen table, disgustingly full from the Maggiano’s takeout carbapalooza we just ate to get ready for the half-marathon and full marathons we are all running tomorrow – well, everyone but me…but, you know, I didn’t want to feel left out…and I’m watching the desserts cross my path…red velvet cake, coconut cake, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin pie, homemade reese’s cups…my brain is thinking of nothing but FOOD. Like the great Jenna Maroney says, “ME WANT FOOD!”
But I did promise to try to make it through THE LIST of very important things I need to tell you…like how last week I was scooping out Indy’s dinner for him (the glamorous life I lead!) and I found, inside his bag of dog food, a doggie trading card.
I shit you not. I pull out Ozzy the Yorkshire Terrier and Indy looks at me, cocks his head, and is all “fuck! I’ve already got three Ozzys! I wonder if someone will trade me for Joplin the Bulldog?” and then I look at these cards and seriously have to wonder why the heck they put these in my dog’s food? For him? FOR ME? SERIOUSLY?
All it makes me think of is that time when I saw these two boys trading RABBI CARDS. Yes, rabbi cards. oh, yes, the Torah Personalities. I mean, it’s kind of the same thing, you see these boys getting all excited about trading a Rav Meltzer for a Rav Moshe Feinstein, and you have to wonder why the heck they make these cards? I mean, sure, I was a card collector..BIG TIME. Basketball cards. (sigh. ducks head. in high school) (I swear that I didn’t collect anything else weird) and while now I cackle whenever I am at my mom’s house and see the stacks of binders filled with basketball cards of players I don’t even remember, but at the time there was method to that madness…there was the 1961 Fleer Wilt Chamberlain rookie card I had in my possession. It was so beautiful. and in mint condition, to boot. and actually, you know, worth something. Well, it was worth something until somehow it ended up possessing a bent corner and I’m sure I cried about it for more than 2 whole days, which was a long time in those days. and I prayed for someone like that dude in Toy Story who fixed Woody all up and made him look all mint again. I needed him. The chicken suit dude. What the hell was his name.You know, the toy barn dude. Oh, where the hell is that etch-a-sketch when I need it?
I guess I shouldn’t judge because my son collects yu-gi-oh cards and all sorts of other weird boy toys that I totally don’t understand but I can sure as hell bet would yield him about as much moolah as a mint Joplin the Bulldog or a Rav Yonason Steif or a BENT Wilt Chamberlain.
Maybe I really just should have directed you over to Aiming Low…