Monday, June 28, 2010

THE DIARY OF A DISTRACTED MOTHER; by Sally Sod Herself; part 1; 1927

TUESDAY. Dear Diary--Hello Diary--there, now, you see just how little I know about keeping a diary. But this much I am sure of; I have always wanted to keep one since that day that Alvina put it into my head.

"I always kept a diary when I was in high school, she said. "And the years that I worked afterward. I can go back to it and tell about all the parties I went to and all the beaux I had. The night that Tom proposed to me I put it down: 'Tom popped it.' I even can tell the date--if I want to. But I don't."

"O, see what I've missed!" I thought. I already had had two perfectly good proposals and no record whatever of them.

Now, just seventeen years later, I saw you, Diary, in a store window and couldn't resist the temptation. Was it a flight of fancy or just a lapse of memory that made me part with thirty-five cents to bring you home? You looked so cool and composed with your pretty bright red cover, with "Diary" printed in gold letters in the corner.

I don't expect to write down any proposals now for the simple reason that I met "the man of me choice" fifteen years ago and begorra he's still that today. And not only have I the man but I have ten children. So when I come to you in the evening to talk things over, you'll know what to expect from me.

Some people say you should keep track of your work in your diary so I will say, I did my house work, took the car and drove to the depot to ship a can of cream. Others say you should put down your thoughts. For this I will say, I guess I was crazy when I bought you today for I don't believe you're worth thirty-five cents.

WEDNESDAY. Diary, Oh Diary, can you tell me what feet were invented for? Was it for any other reason than to ache, I wonder? I have been on mine since 5:30 this morning. FEET! Who said they were feet? I think mine are yards for maybe even rods the way they feel tonight.

But thank goodness, I'm mighty glad I had them with me today and handy. I was just scared stiff when I looked out in the yard and saw Junior on top of that hayrack. How he got there is more than I can see. There is no more than a toe-hold of him any place. When I got him safely down and was back in my kitchen I stopped and thought, "Now, I wonder, was that a sin?" My thoughts, I mean. I have been reading a lot about evolution. No, I just won't allow myself to think it. I want to believe I can trace my ancestry back to the Garden of Eden and not to the jungles of Africa. But it is still a mystery to me how he ever got there. You know he is only four.

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