The Insurrection Mold
I am extremely allergic to mold. I have all of my boys papers, projects, report cards, newsletters and more that have traveled in boxes with me from the time they were tiny. They are now 28 and 29. The boxes have not always been in the appropriately climate controlled spaces (ahem old run down damp garage for instance) and have acquired their fair share of silverfish and meals for a variety of little beings. Who came up with the idea of macaroni art? Seriously. Whose idea was it to stick food on construction paper with white glue that ended up more as a way to peel off one's skin in a white hazy layer? Ridiculous. But I digress. I have moved these boxes from the garage to the office which I have renamed the scrapbook room. Because that's my intention. I visualize the long table with neat piles of historical data chronologically compiled with a variety of themes - Josh, Cody, Josh and Cody, vacations, etc. I have the books. I have scissors that provide different edging, just to ...