What is a monkeybox?

When I was a little girl, we had a pet monkey named Amanda. My Dad worked in the produce business, so each night he brought home that days culls in a big box - spotty cucumbers, pithy apples, limp celery, moldy oranges and the like. We called it a monkeybox. It was really just trash, but my Mom would take each piece of fruit and trim it, pare it and cut it up to make a beautiful fruit platter for Amanda. Even though it was deemed trash by one, it still had life left in it and was good for the purpose we needed it. That's how I live my life - thrifting, yard saling, looking for another's trash to be my treasure.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

He's Baaaaaack!

When Mr. Bunny showed up Missing last night I put some signs out by my mailbox asking "Please Bring Back our Bunny!" DH laughed - told me I was being silly. Ha Ha. Today we came home from errand running and low and behold, Mr. Bunny is standing on the front porch. His foot is broken and he needs a new paint job. But, he's back. It's nice to have him back, but mostly my faith is restored and I no longer think I have vigilantes and thieves running amuck up and down my street waving handguns and stealing garden statues.
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