Toys & flattery

Maybe it's because I'm a youngest child (we're supposedly more secure, since, I think the theory at least partially goes, our parents "practiced" with the earlier kids and ostensibly got it at least semi-right by the time the last one popped into the world) or maybe it's simply this narcissistic streak I admittedly have, but I've had a few people ask me already when I was going to post something NEW on my blog.

I think it's flattering to be asked, in a Sally Field-esque "Oh, you like me! You really LIKE me!" kind of way.



On the other hand, it may not have much to do with me at all (always a shocking, disarming thought, of course); it may be more of a reflection on the proclivities of the reader, that little touch of voyeurism, like when I used to babysit and came across things I had to work really hard to find, like, say, all manner of "Marital Enhancements," (yes, people in Berkeley really put it out there; okay, well, maybe not OUT there, but "it" was usually stashed somewhere that could fairly easily be unearthed by a nosy teenager looking to find, you know, WHATEVER. Ahem.) the discovery of which, I thought, might enable me to scratch below the surface a bit more and understand the very people into whose lives I had been invited to be the Temporary Nurturing Parental Surrogate to their kids for a few hours.

There had to've been more, after all, than boxes of mac n' cheese and chocolate milk and stacks of diapers and "Goodnight, Moon" and a chipper, "We'll be home by 11:30 or so."



And, yeah, there certainly was.....but 25 years later, I'm not really sure how finding such things helped illuminate their lives for me very much, other than by my ultimately realizing that, well, these happy, smiling, here's-the-number-where-we'll-be Berkeley parents liked a li'l sugar in their coffee now and again. I mean, they had offspring, for God's sake. You don't get preggers by just sitting there and holding hands.

So, all that being said, perhaps my musings will be a bit more illuminating and possibly more titillating than a basket of ribbed & flavored condoms or a random Japanese sex toy or an assortment of really tacky porn vids found stuffed in the back of a closet.

But then again, maybe not.