Move Over, Martha

First things first. Yes, minor tweaks to the site. Sickness. Can’t help it. Idle hands. Devil’s handiwork. Something.

Let’s move on.

Next… Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. I have long fingers. Prepare to die.

See these beads? They look like marbles, but there are hollowed paths for string or dental floss, or whatever is stringy and can be threaded through a small opening.

Chicken.

Sorry. That was gross.



I don’t know what it is about marbles that I just love. They’re complex. They’re varied. No one is ever the same.



They’re small as all hell. They break your vacuum cleaner if you run over them. They shoot your eye out.



I might have gotten that last part mixed up with something else. Excuse me.

Mooter is pretty creative. Give her crayons, give her paste, give her scissors, give her crafts, and you’ve given her the gateway to future masterpieces. You’d think giving her all these things would keep her occupied for hours. But Mooter is also a designer, and whatever she creates you have to try on. And just when you’re not looking, she’s surrounded you like ninja samurai and you’re being tailored for a bracelet or necklace or earrings. God forbid she is ever introduced to a Bedazzler.

(You know I’m looking at you, Robyn – AKA mother of mine – AKA “Nana”. Don’t do it. I beseech you. Hot glue does not come out of carpets. Or dog fur.)



And then look at this, won’t you. Just the cutest little box. What is it? A jewelry box? A treasure chest?



NO! MORE BEADS!

And in the drawer underneath the compartment doors?



Because a friend OF MY MOTHER’S thought it a good idea to add BEADS to the MARBLES for the girl with the mother who obviously doesn’t already have enough gray hair.



Can’t imagine who gave her THAT idea.