Both my kids are on a grand and epic road trip adventure with their grandparents for the next nine days.  I haven’t had more than a day without kids (rarely even that) in almost four years and here I am staring at nine entire days…. y’all I am going to get So. Much. Done!

Seriously, I have 11 entire pages of lists of projects and chores to do while they’re gone, basically I’m going to get three and a half years worth of things done in a little over a week.  I’d been calling it “The Week of Clean All The Things/Declutter All The Things/Organize All The Things/Do All The Things Mother Fucker” but my friend Dierdre informed me that was way to wordy and told me from here on out I was to refer to it as ATTMF (All The Things Mother Fucker) for short so it’s easier for everyone.

Today some of my many goals was going through a ton of giant boxes of random crap from my old room that my mom sent me a few days ago because she was tired of them cluttering up her attic.  Here is, in no particular order, the list of the weirdest things I discovered in said boxes.


-Proof that I once did at one point in my life play sports with a reasonable level of competency.

-Lots of jewelry and other accessories that my childhood sweetheart made me out of duct tape.  All girls should have childhood sweethearts as awesome as mine.

-10 summers worth of Camp Mennoscah name tags.

-A ton of drawings of random kids that I would sketch when I was bored in class, which I didn’t realize until now is kinda creepy.

-SOOOO many pictures of me with guys I was dating, quasi dating, involved in some way with, or just madly in love with who have since come out of the closet.  One of my nicknames in high school was “The Spatula” because I turn people, true story.  I used to try and deny it but damn if those boxes of photos don’t make it hard to do.

-A giant stack of Klingon flashcards from when I taught myself Klingon.  I was a weird kid.

-An entire notebook with nothing but pictures of Tom Paris  surrounded by a million hearts and several pages of my 7th grade handwriting practicing “Mrs. Jenna Paris”.

-A really elaborate work of art centered around the phrase “Eagles may soar, but weasels don’t get sucked into jet engines.”

-A bunch of pretty hilarious school specific political cartoons.  Reading them now I’m impressed by the grasp I had on satire at that age.

-An envelope full of teeth.  Yes that’s right, human teeth.  I didn’t take a picture of that one, it was gross.  And no, I have no idea who they belonged to or why I had them.  I’m choosing not to think to hard about it in case it’s something traumatic I suppressed for a reason.


-And a picture of my first husband who I totally forgot existed.  I met this kid at a forensics tournament when I was 15, he swept me off my feet, and we eloped in a non-legally binding ceremony in the Lyons High School hallway outside the science rooms officiated by my cousin Tara Hershberger in between rounds.  Fun fact, in Kansas you can actually get married at 14, but you have to get consent and we didn’t want to have to wait.  Which is probably good because odds are he’s gay now too.


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