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Tossing the past
Day Two of of the weekend at Mom's and we still haven't really packed anything. So far, it's been sort and discard, sort and discard. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bunj thought we were almost through with a room when we found a box entitled "Momentos" [sic]; we must've spent two hours going through it document by document. To our credit, we tossed almost everything, from old report cards to school and local papers. Photos we saved (including one highly-blackmailworthy snap I'm glad my sister never found when she was making me a scrapbook!) and a few things for my mom to eyeball. She spent the afternoon on her bed sorting through her own mountain of nostalgia. Among the discoveries was the bill from my first hospitalisation (I was there three days for an outpatient procedure! BlueCross paid 100%! Those were the days...) and the bracelet from my birth. "Dr Boggio", I read. This prompted from my mother the ultimate TMI--
"He must have had a small dick," Mom said. "Your father and I had a nice little surprise when I came home. He stiched me up tighter than I was when I was a virgin....He never wanted any other man to have the problems he did."
A few weeks back (after the Moon Palace trip, in fact) I mentioned to the Economist that certain songs reminded me of D&D, because they were on the radio when we had just started playing. He asked me for an example, just for shits and giggles, but, of course, none came to mind. It could've been the influence from the sorting, but Mom was listening to a "lite rock" station and, one of the times I asked her a question, Steve Perry's "O Sherrie!" came on and I thought, "Holy crap, this is one of them!" So there you go; if you get it stuck in your head now, there's no one to blame but yourself.
bunj thought we were almost through with a room when we found a box entitled "Momentos" [sic]; we must've spent two hours going through it document by document. To our credit, we tossed almost everything, from old report cards to school and local papers. Photos we saved (including one highly-blackmailworthy snap I'm glad my sister never found when she was making me a scrapbook!) and a few things for my mom to eyeball. She spent the afternoon on her bed sorting through her own mountain of nostalgia. Among the discoveries was the bill from my first hospitalisation (I was there three days for an outpatient procedure! BlueCross paid 100%! Those were the days...) and the bracelet from my birth. "Dr Boggio", I read. This prompted from my mother the ultimate TMI--"He must have had a small dick," Mom said. "Your father and I had a nice little surprise when I came home. He stiched me up tighter than I was when I was a virgin....He never wanted any other man to have the problems he did."
A few weeks back (after the Moon Palace trip, in fact) I mentioned to the Economist that certain songs reminded me of D&D, because they were on the radio when we had just started playing. He asked me for an example, just for shits and giggles, but, of course, none came to mind. It could've been the influence from the sorting, but Mom was listening to a "lite rock" station and, one of the times I asked her a question, Steve Perry's "O Sherrie!" came on and I thought, "Holy crap, this is one of them!" So there you go; if you get it stuck in your head now, there's no one to blame but yourself.