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.

Tuesday, December 07, 2010

A Million Photos

As promised - I took photos at the Reenactment on Sunday.
 I took this one.
 And this one.
 And this one.

And then my Camera Battery died.

The End.

How come your batter never dies when you are laying around taking three hundred photos of your cat or your latest thrift purchases or a weird bird in the tree or you son's toe or the clouds?  It always dies when you are somewhere you will never get to be again. 

Oh well.  We went, we saw, we froze our butts off, we came home. 

They'll do it all again in 2012.  Maybe I will get some batteries by then!


  1. Shara that is so funny! It happened to me on my Mom's big 80th Birthday surprise...took a couple of photos, battery died. Did I have the charger with me in Texas? nope...sigh. Life goes on.

  2. Looks very cold! Sorry about the batteries though. Can't wait to see the free goodies!!


I love my comments. I'd love to respond to everyone, but if you don't have an email address tied to your ID, please sign your name so I will know who you are! It makes it nice to know who is saying what. Now, leave a comment! Please? ;o)

I Can See You!

Look at my Visitors!

Fellow Junk Followers