I Found Something Precious in a Crystal Ball

When we are small children objects appear without explanation.  Registered as little more than shapes colors on walls and high shelves; set pieces picked out according to someone else's esthetic. 

Some tchotchkes, however, call to the mind of a child.  

To this day, I cannot tell you where the crystal ball came from, nor how it came to sit upon my dresser. 

Yet, it was always there. I cannot remember one day of my life without it, truly. It was, and remains, one of the most fascinating things I have ever encountered. 

As a small girl I marveled at how someone was able to fold aluminum foil inside the sphere. It was clearly impossible, but in my limited experience no other substance had ever caught the light in the same way.

Hours and endless games could be spent playing with my beautiful crystal ball.  

Yes, in my head it remains a crystal ball, though it's not even glass. It's something more akin to a Lucite-acrylic. Did this tarnish its value? No, not in any way. In fact, as I grew older, more observant, this inspired deeper contemplation. For there were clearly bubbles inside. The mushrooms (they have always been mushrooms to my imagination) were not foil after all!?! Rather, and perhaps more extraordinarily they seemed to be pockets of air. 

I don't mind telling you, my mind still has a hard time working out how these shapes were blown inside a molten plastic. If I ask you to imagine someone blowing glass in reverse, perhaps you'll understand the conundrum as I see it. 

It's a crystal - Nothing more. But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams.  

~Jareth - The Goblin King from the movie Labyrinth~

I had been mulling over the magic of my crystal ball for twelve years by the time David Bowie spoke his lines as The Goblin King. 

A lifetime of turning the orb in my hands. Musing about the fairies who lived inside those mushrooms. Pondering the strange world of the gnomes who'd bestowed this gift to my bedside upon my birth. Rolling it in such a way I could see myself wandering a hillside in a lush green land across the sea. 

Precious time spent with my imagination trying to unravel mysteries of science, time, and a lifetime of questions and discoveries I could not even give words to. 

Although often clouded by dust and neglect, this silly trinket, my oldest muse, still sits on the window ledge by my bedside. A touchstone for me, yet merely visual background noise to the other players on this stage — in my life.

Join me for a new post every day in November.

Lost Fox Hunting

Alright, I'm a military brat. We fall into 2 categories - the ones that care about having stuff, and the ones that don't. For me, all my things make me feel at home, even when I know its just stuff. I'm the creepy Junk Lady muppet at the end of Labyrinth. Seriously, I'm practically a hoarder. I don't trash things until I'm damn sure I'm never gonna need it again. Or no one I know will ever need it again. And if anyone, anywhere, maybe can use it, I'm donating it.

The Junk Lady from Labyrinth

Really. I have a storage unit that can stand as testimony to this. I have had things in storage since 2004. We aren't going to talk about the money lost there, ok? This ain't about that.

I know this about myself. Those who love me know this about me. Sister Cat once spent an entire day helping me sort through my childhood stuff to find what was precious and worth holding onto vs. what was trash. It was damn near the HARDEST thing I've ever done. HARDER THAN LABOR. Seriously. See, I couldn't displace it because the pain was in my soul, not my body.
Am I nuts? Maybe but whatever, this isn't about that either.

This is not to say that I don't ever lose things. I sure do. And when I do, it's usually an item of crazy importance or value. A brand new iPhone - yep, lost one of those. Several hundred of dollars in CA$H, yes. I don't want to talk about. Suffice to say: When mama fucks up, she does it big. And it is devastating to me in so many ways - so, ya know, I go pretty far to avoid it.

You know who does lose things? Kids. It's the way it is, and the way they learn valuable life lessons, I guess. Oh man, it kills me every damn time one of my kids misplace something. I have gone searching for lost loveys all over stores and neighborhoods. I know how devastating it is to me and I want to spare them, and me, the pain. For a while my son had a really bad habit of throwing things when we were out & expecting them to come back. Too much Toy Story, probably. He believes his toys will find a way to get home. They didn't & he's gotten better about doing it. Lesson learned.

I'm being honest here, so let's also say I'm a little OCD about their toys. Maybe that's an understatement. It drives me INSANE when we go to play with something and it's not all there, and then in that moment its a panic & Boy is whining or Girl is repeating the same request over and over. My head just started thumping on one side with remembered anxiety.

When we go out there are things that do not leave the house. At this point in our lives they are too easily lost or fought over in public play grounds and, again, I no longer want to spend my day retracing my steps for something that fell off the stroller tray when (God forbid) I wasn't looking. Or that becomes cause for my son to beat yours up in the sandbox. I don't have the patience for that sort of thing. Control issues? Check.

So as I go along about my day I'm always keeping an eye on the Special Toys. The current loves of my children's lives. Frequently, when I see them discarded out of the way, I'll scoop them up and put them on a dresser or in the bed. Because ultimately it is easier for me. If my kid is whining about where his favorite dinosaur is, I can tell him it's on his bed. Problem solved. I don't have to go searching while his crazy gets out of control & my patience wanes.

But hey, that is my JOB. I'm an at home mommy. My job is to know which things are important today & where they are. Pretty much at all times. I patrol my apartment like a prison guard, counting inmates & watching for new gang members. It is not my husband's job. I get that. He doesn't have the time or patience to pay attention to those details in the same way I do, because he has 2 buildings to keep an eye on all day, while I'm with the 2 kids.

Which is I why I shouldn't be so annoyed by what happened last night. For those who aren't friends on Facebook, I will explain. I left the apartment at 5:30 for yoga. When I got back about 8:30 it was bedtime for kiddos. Only no Foxy was to be found. We searched, nothing. Got the kids in bed. Searched again. Nowhere. This is not possible. She must be here somewhere. They didn't go out. No one came over. All I kept thinking was, "How could he have let Foxy get misplaced??!!"

Mama Foxy & Lil Foxy

If you don't know already, Foxy is Winter Girl's little lovey. Only about 5" high, and easily held & cuddled by my wee girl. She is the baby of a set from Ikea. Girl LOVES her. She is the Velveteen Rabbit of our home - Foxy is most certainly Real.

She has gone missing before. A couple of weeks before Christmas. My husband and I were both confident Foxy had not left the apartment. After we tore the place apart and couldn't find her, we had to reluctantly conclude she'd been been lost while everyone was distracted on a walk to the car.

Again, being honest, I was probably more upset than Winter Girl. She looked, and asked for Foxy, but she was fairly satisfied with Mama Foxy at bedtime and other small companions throughout the day.  About a week later - when life had started to move on without mention of Foxy - my husband found her where he had apparently stashed her leaving that morning - IN HIS COAT POCKET. Seriously??!! Buttmunch. But ok she was found

When it came to Girl's love for Foxy, well, absence certainly made the heart grow fonder.  Now when we are getting her in the stroller, Girl will ask for Foxy if she's not already clinched in a little chubby fist. When Foxy falls/is thrown out of the crib, there is a clear wail of "MOMMY - I NEED FOXY!"

So naturally, I tore the apartment upside down this morning. Every drawer, every bin, every closet. Nothing.
Until 5 minutes ago.
With renewed purpose I took a break from writing this rant to check in all the toy bins again. And damned if I didn't find her! Way in the back of the basket of blocks. I don't know how either my husband or I could have missed her there. It's not like she blends in - she's orange and plush, for Pete's sake.

Unless... No, I'm not going to even type that... Let's just say maybe I've been watching a little too much Toy Story too.