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.

Friday, May 30, 2008


I was just sitting here waiting for the plumber to come and fix the water leak that has water oozing in under my hardwood floors, out from under the carpeting, under the A/C UNIT and into the closet and thought I would do a little blogging. Because I won't have time to do anything else but suck up water and throw out stuff after this is over. Eh gads. When it rains, it pours at our house.

Oh well. It's just money. And time. And stuff. And my sanity.

Expletive, expletive, expletive.


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. I'll trade you a smashed yard ornament for a 'plumber's crack'...I think we need to each break open a bottle wine and just say 'the heck' with the world for a while! Sound Good?!

  3. eeeks. That's terrible, Shara! I hope it's not too costly for you. :(


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