To whomever among my tribe of friends thought enough of me to send me a subscription to "Teen Vogue", I say thanks SOOO much.  I consider it a true complement to my life's resolution to never grow up. 

I know who dunnit...I really do and that person got the idea from ME! Thanks for thinking of me, really!  Way back in the olden days, magazines used to come with a page of free stuff.  If I was really pissed, I would order the various items and publications from the page in Cosmo...maybe Playboy.  It was harmless.  Sending an actual WHOLE subscription, not so much.  First; it's a waste of paper, second; it is stealing.

After I peruse the pages and look at all those little dresses and bathing suits and stuff, I wonder if maybe they come in extra large.  I have a belief that "if it jiggles, cover it up. So I can't wear anything in the magazine. I wore all that hippie chick stuff th FIRST time!! I do, of course read the articles and I have learned how to keep my face from breaking out, how to talk to my parents.....I'm about done with zits and my parents are in Heaven looking down on me.  Dad would find humor in this.

The best thing about getting Teen Vogue? I take them to work and give them to the single mom of two teenagers. Her girls love them. Sadly, there's too much cute stuff they cannot afford. 

So again, benevolent person, I thank you and so do Hannah and Abigail!!

Or how I have grown to accept the things I cannot change...

Kid number two, my son D.Jay graduated from college on May 8th. On May 11th he was called for a job interview. On May 14th, he had a second interview and got the job! Way to go, boy!  People like to hire both of my children because they are smart and have great personalities just like me..or maybe their dad.

He drove up to our house in his red PT Cruiser looking like a MAN. OK,OK, he's 24 and I have to stop trying to see his little kid persona. Did I mention that I have never liked the PT Cruiser? When they first came out about 8 or 9 years ago, hubby just HAD TO HAVE ONE RIGHT NOW!!! He became obsessed with it. He designed his own on-line with all the bells and whistles.  It was like he was pregnant. He conceived it on-line, gestated via internet. He tracked that Cruiser's progress. and alas, after nine months, it was here and ready to be picked up from the dealership. There was a frenzy to get one at that time and he was offered 2K over sticker to refuse delivery on the car. I remember thinking "TAKE THE DEAL". They will make more. We can wait.  Now there's a line of logic I am going to refer to. INVESTMENT. Remember this word. You will see it again. Think 1969 Camaro, 1966 Mustang, a 1970 GTO, maybe a Gremlin.

The new baby was MINE. While I feigned enthusiasm and tried to act excited, I knew in my heart that I would never grow to love this red cruiser baby. WHY did it have to be mine and not his? He has a company car. SO we always had MY car and HIS car. Rhe cruiser was just that...THE CRUISER, not Libby's car. I felt like I was driving a rental car or a fully restored panel wagon that belonged to some old surfer dude who could not afford to eat and had to sell his precious woodie. By the way, there is a wood paneling kit for this baby. When hubby mentioned getting it, I did that roll eyes and shit eating grin thing that I do. It says "don't push your luck..another word and I will....".

I had to sell my little Subaru Forester.  I really liked that car. It was only 2 years old and it had the capability to haul stuff and I had bought car all by myself. It had a standard transmission and as my bad karma would have it, the transmission had a defect and had to be replaced. They even had to get reps from the factory to come down and try to figure out why the new transmission would not fit properly into the old one's place.  So here's the scene: I was being set up and I knew it, but he was so enthusiastic about the cruiser, I made the concession when he said he felt like the Subaru was unsafe and we should get the cruiser because he wanted ME, the mother of his chidren to be safe.

Kid number two, D.Jay was, at that time about ready to have his very own car. Kid one, Emmie had a Subaru Legacy that I had driven up until I got the Forester. Pay attention. I am trying to get the chronology right. Emmie got the Legacy. When D.Jay was ready to drive, she gave him the Legacy (which was, by this time ready to go to the car lot in Hell) and took Daddy's Nissan Pickup....which is pretty much why it made sense for me to drive the cruiser. Dennis loved that truck and always thought he might get it back someday. He got pretty nauseated when he saw his truck with her dents and a "Hello Kitty" set of interior accoutrements. Our neighbor told him when he got it that it was a girl truck because it was small and blue. I just sorta gave it a quick look and turned away to hide my smug look.

Then my mom got sick and was dying and I asked if we could have her 1979 Volvo for D.Jay. This transaction was an INVESTMENT in my son's safety!! That car was built with tank steel and I thought it would be more reliable and less crunchable in case of a traffic mishap. I know damned well the car was in great shape. It was driven very little and always well maintained. I now know what happens to all the workings of a car if it's not driven. They go into some sort of shock when they have to perform. Tires can keep 75% of their tread and dry rot. My daddy got it tires and a full tune-up on it before he would let me drive in the 650 miles home all by myself.  No cruise control..damn!  Mom had tears in her eyes when she consented to give the car to her only grandson.  It was her most favorite car, but she'd never be able to drive or ride in it again. I think she put a gris gris on that car because she always thought me incapable of making wise choices. OK, OK she was right. Sometimes I do stupid stuff, but that's another 1000 page book.  Back to the car. I was about 100 miles into the trip when the side mirror on the driver's side just came out and crashed to the pavement. Damn, I was using it!! I use my mirrors.  OK, no big deal. I paid 60 bucks for the little mirror assembly.  From that day on, it died in agony (mine).

We sold a mostly reliable Legacy to a friend who promptly tried to use it like a chainsaw to take down an oak tree. No more Legacy. The kid was fine.

Meanwhile...I know this is getting a bit long, but I will get to the point in a few hundred words more. You're reading this, so you've made an INVESTMENT!! You have to keep going! Where was I? oh yeah!  Legacy sold, wrecked, Volvo dying a financially painful death. Soo....I started looking for a car for D.Jay.  I wanted to get him a new car, but we sorta made a deal that he'd get a new car for college graduation.  I walked into the VW dealerhip, and there it was on the showroom floor. It was the sweetest little ride I had ever seen. I wanted it...had to have it. I called Dennis to tell him I was making an INVESTMENT in this little VW Cabrio because it was the last model year VW made it.

Here it comes: He asked what about the cruiser? Bam! D.Jay needed car and it made perfect sense to get the Cabrio for me and give D.Jay the cruiser!!! He drove that car for about 7 years and wrecked it twice. Poor Dennis and his investment. I really did feel bad for both the man and the boy, me, not so much. We got it fixed both times because of the INVESTMENT potential. Now it's sorta like depreciated.  All investments have the potential to depreciate, right?
 
Quickly now...hope you're still with me.
Cabrio, aka "Deer Killer" (another story) was insulted by other vehicles and a mammal one time too many. I sold her on eBay and cried when she was loaded on a trailer to her new home in Tennessee. I maintained visitaton rights should I need to see her again.  I would trade my present vehicle for a cherry Cabrio.  It's a 2-seater roadster. Cute and flashy, but so-so. Can't haul anything but my ass. Pontiac Solstice, 1st model year...INVESTMENT.

Now we don't have anything that can haul anything. D.Jay graduated from University of Southern Mississippi and it was new car time.  I suggested that we go to a dealership and make a deal on TWO vehicles. A truck for us (me) and a car for D.Jay from the same salesperson. Dennis said it would make more sense to keep the cruiser for us rather than buy a new vehicle. I don't think that cruiser is gonna be revered in the collector arena. I could be wrong. The whole idea of a truck or stuff-hauler is so I can park MY Pontiac INVESTMENT and drive the new truck rather than pile more miles on the Solstice.

So, I have a new vehicle. It's that little PT Cruiser with 120K miles on it. Yep, I'm soooo gonna drive it every day that isn't perfect for the top down Solstice. Dennis smiled as he pulled it into the driveway. D.Jay practically cried tears of joy when he handed Dennis the keys. He rode off (literally) at sunset in his brand new Chevy Cobalt.

I'm not so sure we make smart investments always, but investing in our kids was a good thing. The (yes) leftover money mostly bought the car. The rest came from the old glass water jug of coins. There was a LOT of money in there. I was NOT going to the bank with Dennis who had transferred the coins to 3 white pails. I was not gonna be Ellie Mae or Granny to his Jed Clampett walking into the bank with all that metal.  I think we had a pretty good investment in that jug. It gathered dust rather than interest and when we needed it, we tipped it over and the bank literally broke. There will be a blog about that soon.

Wave at me when you see me in the world's oldest PT Cruiser...perhaps a panel kit??

Neil Young has a hideous comb-over and he's still kinda ugly and his voice sounds exactly the same. Makes me happy to have seen him! He is young in spirit!

Etta James is a legend. Her hair is a blondish color and she's about half the size she was. Her voice sorta trembles and she's sounding old. Makes me sad. She still wants to be the young sexy diva she was years ago.

Pete Seeger is old, old and spry. He's a legend and he's still sounding good, but then folk songs kinda don't need a lot of panache. His fingers are nimble and he still gets it done at 90!

I will not be a very good old person. That's what my friend said about her recently deceased mother-in-law. She wasn't a good old person. If my body ever gives out, I pray my brain goes too.

What does all this mean? I dunno. Guess I'm feeling my age, yet looking forward to the future at the same time. As of this Friday, I will have two (100%) college-graduate offspring. As of October 10th, they will both be married!

Simon is accepting his age pretty gracefully, but dogs aren't aware of their decline. That's what "they" say.  I think he misses the squirrel chasing days. He only scouts half of the backyard perimeter in the mornings before he goes back to bed.  And he can't jump. He's pretty happy and he's starting to accept Pete, my little Rat Terrier.  Rachel is old too and as long as she can block my path and roll onto her back for a belly rub, her life is pretty darn good!

Well, it's over until next year. I'm a little melancholy because the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival is the biggest festival, the quintessential musical, gastronomic, and people watching extravaganza!  There's too much to do, see, hear and eat.  Every day is a different festival.The first day (always the last weekend in April) is mostly locals and die-hard fest addicts like me and my Big D.  There are teachers skipping school to dress in cool fest clothes, straw hats and sunglasses.  I recognize them and I smile because some of the kiddies are there too because the parents are also skipping school or work.

It does't matter who you are, what is your vocation, whether you are wealthy with your Polo cooler and your Gucci glasses, or you had to eat Ramen noodles for 6 months to afford to get in the gate.  When we're all standing or sitting together to see and hear the acts that interest us, we're on neutral ground. Wealth and politics just don't matter in music. OK, protest songs are the exception. The closest thing to a politcal statement I heard was "Keep on Rockin' in the Free World". Thanks My Neil Young. I am still groovin on that! That was Sunday, the last day. D and I sat in the baking sun with our liquid aluminum foil sunscreen the whole day.  Had to see Neil.

There are campers at the big stages. The run (sprint) to their favorite spot. They have it down...make it look like a game show, perhaps speed of unfolding lawn chairs is in the guinness book of weird shit. The little chubby dude who seemed to be the monarch of the little kingdom took his shirt off and we watched a time lapse in real time of his sunburn as it lasted. My friend Susie and I just had to tell him (even though we were OUTSIDERS) that the ugly blob on his back looked ominously like a melanoma. I just wanted to tell him to tuck the waistband of his tightie whities into his pants. Hanes.  He thanked us, but if he doesn't follow thru, he might be D-E-A-D before he can compete again.

Yep, I loved seeing Neil Young. Obervation: the smell of marijuana is all around. This proves that Neil is definitely a blast from the past and weed is here to stay. I love that smell and potheads are usually really nice and mellow. They like to share. Sadly, the herbal cure for what ails ya causes me to risk a professional license and makes my heart beat a little harder. It would SUCK to have my defibrillator fire in the middle of all those bodies! The Old Hippies had their day in the sun...and they've "seen the needle and the damage done" and they stick with the safest high.  Leave the beer out of the mix. In my humble opinion, beer consumed in large quantities with pot is a Gen X thing. It makes you S-T-U-P-I-D. Just my opinion. I could be wrong....and a little jealous!
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The big highlight of the fest, for me at least, was having the honor of seeing and hearing the 90 year old Pete Seeger along with his cute and handsome grandson Tao. You can see the love in Tao's eyes as he occasionally prompted old Pete. He walked onto the stage under his own power and carried his own banjo. We also went to the Allison Miner interview stage to see him interviewed. Incredible stories from an incredible life! The old guy still chops wood to heat his home and to fire up the stove.  He is an advocate for our planet in a lot of ways and his wisdom inspires me. 

I ate way too much, but it's about 1/3 of the fun! This year, we vowed to try something we had never tried before. We did that and found Boudin balls. They were OK, but not worth going back for another. We discovered Cochon du lais po-boys several years ago and we love them enough to have them twice. We used to like the Cuban sandwich, but the vendor is different and we don't like them. Had to mourn a bit because they are like a little taste of our home Tampa. This year? Dibbi!!! I think it's a bit Jamaican. It's shaved pieces of beef cooked with peppers and onions served with a yogurt sauce on a pita. We had 3 of those. I began to feel guilty, so I ate lots of fruit and fried plantains. Oh! I also redeemed myself with a lovely creole cream cheesecake (milk!) with a strawberry topping (fruit!) and felt healthier!

Stay tuned for Queen Lydjahh's rules for being a good jazzfest guest.
Oh! Check out the CD I'm listening to. He was there! He's back and he's still all that!

Anybody old enough to remember the old tanning potion of baby oil and iodine? How about the geeks who wore zinc oxide ointment on their noses?  Remember when having a tan was thought to be healthy? I do..all of the above! Being of the red-haired, freckled variety of white person, I should have given up years ago on the idea of an actual tan. I was secretly wishing all of my freckles would run together!
We went to the beach every year and my baby sister used to get crispy, I swear! She would turn really, really pink and her blonde hair would turn white and her freckles nearly ran together. Dad had a sunburn almost all the time from spending hours sans hat on the golf course. Mom turned dark brown...and she wsa skinny. I hated that I got Dad's skin. I got his nose too and it burns just like his and seems to say "look at my big red nose"
Well, the time has come to pay the piper, take the consequences for all those years of Florida sunshine. Following in Dad's footsteps, I just had my first squamous cell carcinoma (skin CANCER) taken off of my leg. It took twice to get it all and I have a new scar with 5 stitches on my shin right above my ankle. I had lots of other pre-cancerous thingys burned off at the same time. I am covered with blisters and scabs and bandaids. Well, at least my FACE looks good! The dermatologist complimented me on the care of my face.
So...use your sun screen. I use the liquid equivalent of aluminum foil. And I wear a hat...and sunglasses. Ya know what??? Tan comes in a liquid form! It goes on like lotion and about 3 hours later, presto! A tan! Cool, huh?

I call it "doodling". I got thru high school, college and still get thru boring ass meetings by doodling. I doodle to keep from going full out bonkers-crazy. I see primitive art and think; "hey, I can do THAT".  So it started with painting on belts, purses, shoes. Now it's furniture. It started with a rocking chair I picked out of my neighbor's trash. One man's trash is another man's treasure....
The first finished project is a little rocking chair owned by my friend Grace. Here it is! My trash chair is also finished, just no pics yet. How much would you pay for my art? Can I quit my day job? Go see the pics in my photos. Tell me the truth.....

Well, my dear readers, "Festival Season 2009" has officially began. Today is Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent and the end of Mardi Gras 2009.  I survived several parades and Mardi Gras in New Orleans sans intoxicating beverages!  The beauty and festivity was intoxicating enough!!  Mardi Gras is much more fun when seen through clear eyes!

I posted a few pics (of more to come).  We have lived in the New Orleans area since 1992 and this is the first year we discovered the "real" Mardi Gras after-parade fun.  We spent the day in the Faubourg Marigny where the locals live and play and people don't get shot or robbed and everyone says "hello" and "Happy Mardi Gras". The crouds are peacful and the pace is slow and easy. Oh sure, there were some risque lights to be seen, but they were subtle.  Where were the freaks with placards preclaiming eternal damnation?  On Bourbon Street, of course!

Emmy, Big D, and Jason (aka "Jasica") spent a beautiful day. It was Jason's chance to prove to himself that he does not need beer to have fun and he can still hit on beautful women and they love him! Perhaps it's that NC drawl?? It was the first Mardi Gras I witnessed while totally sober.

We went into a bar on Bourbon Street and watched a very drunk femal patron proceed to do a little pole dance striptease. She took off ever stitch of her clothing and made quite a spectacle. I wonder if she remembers today? Did she have any fun? It doesn't matter because her day will likely not register in her memory. Her friends will remind her!  I ordered a "Virgin Mary". The bartender said she had never made one without Vodka. Wonder if she's ever made a "Shirley Temple"? I should have put her to the test. Nah....she was young and it was Bourbon Street. We only stayed on Bourbon for a block and cut back to Royal. I got beads from balconies without showing my assets or my ass! WOW!!!

Anyway...it's Lent, but more of interest to me, the beginning of the Spring music festivals. Bring 'em on! It's been a long, cold winter!

If I were to back into someone's car in a gas station-convenience store parking lot, I would have waited for the car's owner to come outside and sheepishly admitted what I had done. It's called DOING THE RIGHT THING! I noticed the white truck I parked next to. I always notice what sort of vehicle I park beside because I try not to park anywhere where I might get a door ding. There was plenty of space....or so I thought.  Evidently the cowardly ass-hole turned his steering wheel WAAAAY to the right as he was backing out. He left some of his white paint on the door of my little car and crumpled the metal behind the door. My little Solstice is no match for a big old truck.

I did the right thing. I called the police and they came out to take my report. The manager of the store will do the right thing and look at the video surveillance. The dude will be on the inside camera right before me and I hope the outside video got a shot of the truck. I hope he left the scene for a VERY good reason like maybe his wife was giving birth or he had an arterial bleed or someone had just cut his prick off....that's what I would like to do.  I'd have been gracious and nice if he'd done the right thing. I imagine he was drunk and did not have the proper documents giving him permission to be on the road in the first place. The nice officer told me that leaving the scene of an accident with damage over a thousand bucks is a FELONY. Good to know. I am fairly certain it's at least that much....Now if only we can catch him! The police man was looking at the white paint and I was thinking about CSI and thinking he should collect a sample of the paint and use all the fancy hi-tech stuff and ID the make and model and year or the truck. Guess there needs to be a dead body involved before they get all fancy.

The two young men who were working at the store were very kind and offered us something to drink and made us a delicious pepperoni pizza (on the house). Those boys did the right thing because perhaps they were taught in Kindergarten or in church about the "Golden Rule". Meanwhile, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change".

I hope the ass-hole's truck falls apart or he ends up in a ditch or gets side-swiped by a cement truck.  I will be looking closely at white trucks to see if there's blue paint on the passenger side bumper. OK..I am not certain the driver was a man. Coulda been a woman, but I really doubt any woman would drive a truck like that...Or perhaps it WAS a woman and she didn't know how to drive a truck and she had to drive it home to its owner and explain about the blue paint and it'll be a lie and he will laugh and forgive her. Not me. I'll beat her ass.

Yesterday, January 6th was what is sometimes referred to as my "Belly Button Birthday".  I won't go into great detail here about the meaning of that.  I had my "Re-birthday" on December 2, 2008. I am calling it the "Second Chance" birthday.

No matter what we do, time marches onward and I was hit, quite inexplicably, yesterday with a feeling of panic mixed with gloom.  Birthdays have always been fun for me, but I decided yesterday morning that I am way too old to count the years. I think I will start counting the miles instead. Oh shit! I think I have about 200,000 miles already, but I did get a new battery for the blood pump and am putting a few fuel additives in the gas tank.  I get my chassis tuned up pretty regularly. The body is showing some fading of the paint and some scratches and dents and perhaps a bit of stiffness in the shock absorbers. My fuel pump works pretty well and the radiator overheats from time to time...and the muffler?? I'll have to work on that!  I might not be all shiny and new, but I'm comfortable.

The speed limit of a country road, double nickels, 55. Fifty five years on this planet and I woke up crying and pissed at the world. I guess the day was sort of jaded by the fact that I am sick (again)! Nothing serious...just part of the clotting thing. I guess I need to put some more additives in my fuel to keep it flowing smoothly!  OK..enough car talk. (I love that radio show!)...

Much to the concern, dismay and consternation of the best husband and man in the whole universe, I got in my little car and drove to Paradise....Waterhole Branch...Fairhope, Alabama.  I spent the day with my friend Everett, the self-proclaimed mayor of Waterhole Branch.  I drove the 200+ miles over there not even knowing if he'd be there, but he was right where he usually is, sitting on his porch painting a piece of wood yellow. That's what Everett does. He paints stuff, makes art out of junk, writes, drinks a bit, smokes a lot and just lives in the moment. The oasis that is his home is a museum of the absurd, eclectic and peaceful. It is colorful and so is the Mayor. Look in my pics "Weird Stuff". There are a couple of pics of him, his surrounds and one with his son.

We sat on the porch and talked about whatever came to mind and watched a very strange movie on his laptop. I got lots of phone calls wishing me glad tidings on my birthday. Everett said birthdays are for children. He is so right. He also told me that numbers mean nothing and to stop worrying about yesterday or tomorrow. He reminded me that today is the only day that matters.  So, just for today, I am alive and reasonably content and that's all that matters.  I can only be hurt if I allow myself to be. My sister is still living yesterday and is still not speaking to me, but as of yesterday, it ceased to matter. Everett said to let go of the hurt and live for right now. He's a preacher, a teacher, a poet and a damn fine human being and he gave me a gift that is intangible, but substantial!

I treated myself to a piece of the man's art.  If you know his son, the troubadour and poet, Grayson Capps, there's a line in the song "Waterhole Branch" that says "Everett's making art out of junk". I have a mobile made out of pieces of brass, copper, a trumpet, some rocks, sea glass, old brass house letters and numbers. It's all strung together so artfully that when the wind blows, it makes music. It kinda goes with the block of a whiskey bottle fence that an old uncle made. I have art made of junk and a block of cement with a bottle in the middle and I would not trade either for diamonds or gold.

On the way home, I stopped at the Mississippi Welcome Center because I had to pee something fierce!  A Mexican man driving a Mustang and carrying (of course) a chihuahua asked me to take his picture with his dog by the welcome sign. He wanted to prove he'd been to Mississippi. Ah! the simple pleasures!

This has been a rambling epistle I have written here, but it's therapy and it's what I felt like doing..just for today. Tomorrow I might wake up and decide to go to work because, unlike the Mayor, I have to obey the rules of the life that includes work and other such stuff. Oh! And as a reward for waking up tomorrow, I get to go to Tipitinas and see my friend Grayson and celebrate life and its goodness.

Peace, y'all!..

My Daddy used to say he was canceling Christmas. I totally understand the sentiment. He used to say "Bah! Humbug" and I thought he was teasing, but now I understand. He didn't like what Christmas had evolved into. He used to remind us that Christmas was about Christ, not plastic toys and bicycles and all the same things the neighborhood kids got. Yeah, we got all that stuff and he felt the joy on Christmas morning when I got "Patty Playpal" and Barbie and some new skates (with keys to hold them on your shoes). We didn't make a list and "order" our presents.

The annual tree hunt was humor and family fun nearly every year. Dad would look at every one we found and carefully inspect the trunk and laugh at the "flocked up" trees. I get that now. Flocked up!! Hahaha! Mom would find something wrong with every single one and he'd finally just relent and get the one she wanted. The only time he got to pick, the tree was as crooked as a dog's hind leg! He labored under mom's scrutiny to make that deformed sucker stand up straight. It never did, but it didn't much matter. From then on, he was out of the tree-shopping business. The fake tree came after we moved out. I am thankful I never got my wish to have one of those silver metallic jobs with the little color wheel. How cool were they!?

I am coming to a point here. It has been two years since I tried to die and came back. I am forever changed by that experience and I view life a bit differently now. I refuse to cave in to the retail push for me to spend my money on shit nobody really needs or wants.  I don't need the pressure. I no longer need to be Santa. I no longer get presents from the parents. The last of ours is gone.  Am I buying prenets? Not really.

I gave money to Hospice of St. Tammany to honor 3 loved ones who have recently passed away and to one who is still living and will always be remembered.  I bought my step-neice a plane ticket from Detroit to Jacksonville so her family will all be together. My brother has a great family and there will be lots of them...along with TWO grandchildren waking up with excitement on Christmas morning. Sonja is coming home and helping her makes me happy.

I like to buy gifts all year long and give them for no particular reason.  I will buy some gifts this year, but not on the grand scale as in years past. Hey Em...how the F*&K does one's laptop fall into a bathtub? You're getting a computer for your "Christma-birthday". Would you like a lovely stuffed armadillo to go with that? Don't go getting your feeling hurt. I am teasing, really.

And how about those inflatable lawn thingys? Hot air balloons made to look like Santa and elves and whatever else...I would love to puncture every single one of them. Put lights and red ribbons and candles on your house and maybe some luminaries. Those inflatable things, uck! Just my opinion.

My kids are coming and that will make it all better. Who wants a new bike or a doll or some skates? Anyone need a "Lite Brite"? How about a new Fisher Price kitchen with some plastic food?

Merry, Merry ( I am being contrary)