"Gifts"

So, recently the out-laws moved Slappy's grandmother (who has severe Alzheimers) from her home in Florida to a facility (a very nice one) in Southern California near their home. In doing so, they had to sell her house and pack everything in it.

Now, a logical approach to this would involve a moving van or even a moving company. But, let's remember who we're talking about.

The out-laws decided to rent an SUV (note here also that Slappy's new car is his grandmother's, which also had to be picked up in Florida, so the car rental? mind boggling) and drive the stuff, not to California, but to our house.

So that we can move it.

At no cost to them.

And it wasn't like just a few boxes. It was like 1/3 of our spacious dining room filled with CRAP. Things that Slappy's mother called and asked us if we wanted, and even after we said no, somehow they ended up in our dining room anyways. Because no only means no when she says it.

Anyway, among the "gifts" she's giving us, is an antique planter. She prefaced our first viewing of the planter with a warning that it's kind of "different" but with a plant in it, it looked quite nice.

Um. No.



This "planter" is easily 2.5 feet tall. Seriously. It's huge.

And a little inappropriate. Like, this lady, totally groping the other one.




Or this naked kid eating grapes.




I so want to have that in my house to explain the nakedness to my kids. "Oh, don't worry honey, it's antique, that makes it totally okay. And totally not the world's LARGEST eye sore."

But even better, it also breaks into two parts. I believe that one is an obvious choice for a port-o-let, and the other, a chess pawn. Whatcha think?



But wait, there's more.

Before the stuff was packed, Slappy's mom called and asked if we had a mop (we do). She said that she was going to send us the "stick" anyway, because it is the greatest cleaning tool ever. We inquired and she explained that you just wrap a towel around the stick and clean the floors. You know, like a, oh, what's the word? Right, a MOP.

Behold, the stick of glory.



We spent a good 20 minutes coming up with alternative uses of the stick. So far we've got hockey stick, hammer, mallet, door knocker, and many many others. After all the suggestions, a miffed mother-in-law said, "you should really keep it. You can't just get another one of those."

No, probably not. But give me ten minutes in a forest with a hammer, and I'm certain I could make one.

Nevertheless, we have to bring the hideous planter and magical stick of wonder back to California. I'm just worried that the planter might fall out of the moving van somewhere in Texas.

Moving is crazy, you never know what kind of crap might spontaneously combust...