23rd

I drove to NW 23rd today and walked into and out of each of the shops that I was certain would have exactly what I wanted. They didn't. Not at all. There were fake sock monkeys (not made of cotton socks) and some nice things, but all in all, it was a bust. I will go upstairs and take a picture of my actual sock monkey for comparison. Or you can go online and see for yourself. Now that sock monkeys are a big freakin' craze, they've improved them. I demand authenticity. Well, most of the time. I got that sock monkey for Marky when he was barely born. He reminds me from time to time that it is his, after all, not mine. I won't give it up until I am certain he won't lose it. I traded salt-dough christmas ornaments I made for a Christmas bazar to get it. One of the women at the bazar was selling her homemade sock monkeys and we bartered. It was the in the days before money. The relative value of things has changed.

Well, without pictures, without poetry, there isn't much more to say. I am unable to describe my world.