Islands in the stream of consciousness.

Remember when I was talking Primordial Photography?  The case where I was on vacation and had left my digital camera battery at home and was forced to to purchase disposable cameras using film lest my precious progeny not have a single photographic moment left from our Grand Tour of Branson Mo??  The most tragic piece of Primordial Photography is the inevitable relegation of said disposable camera to the junk drawer.  I can see my great-grandchildren with faces shining expectantly on a 2072 Antiques Roadshow as they hand over cryptic boxes found in their great-grandmother's junk drawer and an appraiser sadly explains the mystery and subsequent demise of "Fuji Film" to them.

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So, it is official.  Disney has wormed its tenterhooks into my sweet baby girl's soul.  Somehow, somewhere, she learned about Tinkerbell.  Couple that with my inability to resist a good deal in princess outfits at a garage sale and now, my baby girl  has glazed eyes, speaks in monotone and harbors a desperate yearning for green tulle and satin.

Now, I have to pray that Effing TinkerHell is not locked away in Disney's "vault" (where "vault" stands for "marketing scam") since a little girl has a birthday forthcoming.  While I may be a bitter bitch, even my frosty heart begins to pool into chilly puddles when my sweet girl bats those baby blues at me and declares emphatically "Mama, I LOVE Tinkerbell!  She wears GREEN and she can FLY and so can all of her FRIENDS."

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Exposing myself as the hypocrite that I am, I am the one who attempts to deny her daughter her Royal Destiny while wholeheartedly supporting her son's search for his Gaming Destiny.  That little dude can totally hand my ass to me now when we play Super Mario Brothers.

I wonder if there is a TinkerHell game for the Wii?  Huh.

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Over the weekend, Manoj and I went spelunking in our couch.  No, not as dirty as it sounds, sadly not in the sexual sense although to be fair, there actually was a fair amount of real dirt involved.   Ah yes, we found dirt.  And loads of it.
And we found knitting needles (explaining why I have bought THREE sets of 9 inch #9s over the years)
And coins.
And yet more Kai-Lan figurines (We are Legion.)
And crayons.
And more coins.
And a LaraBar (I fervently hope it was a LaraBar because otherwise I would have to own up to the fact that somehow an effing dog turd ended up in the nether regions of our couch.)
And inexplicably a single sock, to which its mate was probably discarded long ago.
And yet more coins.
And enough dinosaurs to outfit the entire Cretaceous era.
And a remote that had gone missing while I was gestating the teeny fetus that would eventually become a boy named "Arun".  The same remote that I blamed my nephew Nolan for throwing away in the trash.  No, I was not mad at him at the time because it became Yet Another Hilarious Familial Fable Starring Nolan.
And Thank The Universe Above, we found the cars keys that Manoj had lost over a month ago. Which was the catalyst for the entire Christopher Columbuseque expedition of the couch bowels in the first place.

Then, I soaked my hands in bleach and made an appointment for confession with a priest.  Because seriously, I felt that dirty.

What's the oddest thing you have ever found in a couch?