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mis-spelled missives from the past

Last week I moved every single item in my cold dirty laundry room in order to find a wise men playmobile set my mother-in-law bought the boys for Christmas last year. I had put it in the basement because the boys were fighting over the pieces, while also asking me every ten seconds to adjust or locate all the little tiny crowns / gold pieces. We had all forgotten about the toy until a few weeks ago when Grandma asked after it, found out I'd put it in the basement, and then informed me that children are denied an essential part of childhood if they can't throw tantrums over gold plastic coins 1/16 inch in diameter. So while I sorted through the baby clothes down there I also sorted through the toys to find the wise men. Sure enough, the boys immediately started fighting over the pieces and asking me to open and close the treasure chest over and over and over again.

At least I like being right. The next day the wise men went live at Grandma's house.

Meanwhile, I found something that I thought had been already land-filled, a set of diaries I wrote starting when I was 11 years old and ending my sophomore year in college. I remember wanting to throw these away, but worrying about them being discovered by some future archeological team mining a landfill. But after cleaning out my Grandmother's apartment this week I now have more fear of someone in my immediate family coming across such a journal. My childhood self could easily tarnish the adult reputation I've spent years building.

So throw them away immediately! But.... can I really throw them away without READING them? Oh, it's ever so tempting. Plus, if I start reading them, can I really read them without SHARING them? At least sharing some choices funny bits that I curate through the lens of my adult blogging self?

No, this needs to be some sort of blogging project.

So here it begins, a little new years treat for all of you: diary entries starting 20 year ago.

Book 1: the pink diary with hearts on the cover.

This book starts on 4/15/93, with the end of a middle-school relationship that is too embarrassing to excerpt. More embarrassing, however, is my terrible spelling! "Twice" spelled with an "s," "since" spelled with an initial "c." Along I find a very holistic spelling of a certain swear word:

I want to have anouther party. Every-body thinks it would be a good idea. Except 2 people; my parents. They are Ass-wholes.

Oh God, I am so sorry parents. If I knew how badly I was executing this cussing out I would have never committed it to print.

Also, Dan was happy to hear that I he was the best dancer at my 12th birthday party. But the entry on 5/6/93 reveals that while I was starting to "like" Dan, "he's not the kind of person you would go out with." Apparently that is why our marriage mostly involves sitting around the house. Also in this entry I eat "french tost."

And that's all that's worth sharing of the pink diary. THANK GOD it's going in the trash today. Only 5 books to go!

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