Making Lemonade

My friends, in this life, some days are better than others.

In the case of Bridgette and I, Thursday through Monday more or less reeked of fetid goat drippings. Life has a funny way of rebounding, though. Little, unexpected blessings pop out of the woodwork, like delicious taffy from heaven.

Last night, I was chatting with a friend of mine, and they relayed a story to me. Apparently when this person was a child, they really wanted a goldfish. Their parents, however, were not sympathetic toward this child’s simple, beautiful wish. Undaunted, the child would clip their overgrown, dirty toenails and deposit them in a baggie filled with water. Then, with a pure, childlike exuberance, they would shake the baggie about and pretend that the inanimate toenail clippings were the goldfish they yearned for so desperately.

That, my friends, is the kind of messed-up tale of childhood emotional scarring this blog is built around. It’s the kind of story that heals your heart and strengthens your sternum. In the end, its power lies in its nature as an odd, disquieting microcosm of life’s unfulfilled wishes.

Enjoy your Tuesday, everybody!

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4 Responses to Making Lemonade

  1. kevin s. says:

    That about sums up the Carter years.

  2. tim hopps says:

    nice to know someone else was as weird as me when i was little. i saved my toenail clippings in a jar. i would scrape crayons across them before clipping and then name them things like “Big Red” and “Old Yeller”.
    if i could go back in time and talk to this kid, i would tell him to scrape an orange crayon across his toenails before clipping to make them seem even more goldfish-like.
    by the way, when i had collected a good plenty of them, i sprinkled them in my sister’s bed.

  3. Guy Incognito says:

    I was doubting your story, Tim, until you got to the end, and what you did with them.
    Now it fits perfectly with other stories I’ve heard from you, such as the poop mailing and whatnot.

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