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, May 12, 2010

Happy Birthday, Breadman

It's The Breadman's Birthday.

I know I don't talk about him a lot.  He works a lot.  A real awful lot.  He leaves for work at 1:30 in the morning and he gets home about 5:30 in the evening.  That is 16 hours a day.  On Saturday he gets off early.  He only works 12 hours that day.  He's not around for most of our adventures.  He's working.  Or asleep.  Or listening, watching or breathing Arkansas Razorbacks Sports.

You will never see him without his Arkansas Razorback shirt.  Or sweatshirt.  Or coat.  Or socks.  Or all of the above.  I haven't found and Razorback undies yet, but when I do, I will get The Breadman some.

He has 32 Arkansas Razorback shirts, five coats, six sweatshirts and three windbreakers.  His truck has all the paraphernalia - magnets, flags, Crazy fan guy stuck on the back window, license plates, antenna ball, etc.

This year I am giving him money to go towards his Arkansas Razorback season tickets.  They are expensive!  He saves up money all year to buy them.  He cut out "the extras" in life so he can afford them - chocolate Milk, Diet Coke, Fast Food on the run at work, Valentine flowers for his wife.  (Ahem, I got that one corrected.  Valentine flowers are not "extras".)

So, Happy Birthday to The Breadman. 

*If you see a Breadman at the store.  Thank him.  He hasn't seen his family in days.


  1. Oh Sweetie those are some long hours. I admire how hard he works to take care of his family and well his 'addiction' to the Razorbacks...but he can be forgiven for that. Happy Birthday Breadman!

  2. Happy Birthday Breadman!
    Wow, those are long hours! You are lucky to have such a hard working husband.

  3. Anonymous5:11 PM

    My husband was a bread man for years. In fact, he delivered to the State Pen and the inmates called him "Brother Bread". I have deep respect for all route salesmen. I have seen children tear up their displays as they are walking out the door. Now my husband is a chip man! I like chips better than bread, anyway!! Love your blog.

  4. You can order his Razorback undies here: http://www.cafepress.com/+razorback-hogs+boxers

    Or maybe he'd rather see YOU in some!

  5. Happy Birthday, Breadman! Sounds like you need some time off, you work very hard.

  6. Happy Birthday to the Breadman! Does he have one of those "HOG" spiky hats, though? At my sister's wedding reception, her sorority sisters forced her brand-new husband to wear a HOG hat (although they said it stood for "Husband of Gamma" - part of the name of their sorority). Well, they are still married, so I guess he was OK with it...


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