It’s a down afternoon.  It’s still a good day because I made it to yoga class this morning for the first time in three months.  I also got the first coat of red paint on my glider this morning before lunch.  But at lunchtime, I lost my momentum.  What was supposed to be a two-hour nap turned into an all-afternoon-doze in bed.  I have woken up feeling like a failure because this afternoon was supposed to be spent cleaning house.  My house badly needs cleaning.  Without children here to distract me, I need to get a lot done before Saturday afternoon when we have to go pick them up.  I work tomorrow and Friday, so that just leaves me with Thursday now to get things done.

So, this is my “Owl Box”:

This is the box in which my grandmother, “Ike”, kept all my toys at her house.

The toys were mostly old household odds and ends, with some toys left over from my dad’s childhood.  Things like a fuse, a recorder, a metal puzzle, a “clicker”, and empty pill holders from Ike’s hospital visits.  Yes, I played with fuses when I was little.  They were among my favorite toys!

The green balls are glass, and you clink them together.  I was great fun.  I think I started playing with that when I was Liam’s age.  I also seem to recall that that toy had been taken off the market because it was dangerous.  I can see why, but it was still fun.  The counter still clicks but the numbers don’t move in full movements anymore.  That’s probably thanks to my rough play.  I think the blue helicopter in back was my dad’s when he was little.

Here are some propellers and magnets.  I think the orange and yellow thing in back could be thrown against the wall and it would come slowly down the wall.  But the yellow suction cups barely are hanging on anymore:

They’re not fancy toys.  I didn’t take pictures of the rest, but there are toy soldiers, checkers pieces, and tons of other little treasures in the owl box.  Honestly, I don’t think there’s a single toy in there that I would let my children play with these days, and I don’t think my parents would let them play with them either.  Ike didn’t have a lot of money to buy me fancy toys.  But she definitely loved me and it didn’t matter that I played with mostly household items at her house.  The Owl Box has its spot now in my sacred “hope chest”, also inherited from Ike.  Some day, when the boys are old enough, I’ll tell them about the spot in the top of the closet where the Owl Box stayed when I was little.  It was the first place I ran to most days when I was a little girl, at Ike’s house.

And though Ike didn’t have a lot of money to buy me modern toys, she had a seriously awesome collection of porcelain dolls from her childhood.  Like this one, that I was to inherit though I never played with it.  I think it was refinished.  She cries when you bend her over or when you pat her:

The one below is my real treasure, because it’s the one I have the memories of.  I carried this one all over Ike’s property and it was my doll at her house for as long as I remember.  I got to play with this one, in the woods, even:

Fancy dolls and the Owl Box.  Old toys, I am a fan.  You are my treasure.