The Funny Farm Again.....by Diane Ogden

In case you do not know, the "funny farm" is where I was raised since 1900 and nevermind! I go there when I have to.  I go there to keep peace.  I go there when I need something from the infamous GRAINERY!  The grainery being were "we all" keep the belongings we don't wish to throw away.  The old awards, the old high school box containing love letters from our first loves and forever loves. sshhhh.  Baseball gloves, bats, ski's, snowboards, where mom (me) keeps five different stuffed animals loved by five different children in a plastic bedspread zippered bag.  Hicksville or what?  I picked up some fresh tomatoes....worked in the infamous grainery for three hours so as to not have to deal with the relatives.  Mother to be exact.  I do not have the wonderful relationship many of my fake facebook friends have with their M!  Enough of that. Maybe. 
I am watching Justin Timberlake and Lady GaGa on the season premier of Saturday Nite Live while trying to write about mummie and the funny farm...
I cleaned part of the grainery room where we all keep our goods.  The goods that HGTV tells people to throw away if you haven't looked at for 6 months or more. Not gonna happen. Keepin' it! All of it! The years of the JCPENNEY Christmas Catalogs, the bins of beads and jewels, the boxes or barbie doll patterns, the collection of buttons, the memories and trophies of all the sales  team and individual awards, gold goblets, gold dinnerware, rings, plaques.  My Grandfathers lunch pail that must be 100 years old by now, my 22 year old daughters baby clothes, my sons comic collection, a life size cardboard cut of Chubacka, and Bruce Lee, snowboards, Nintendo's, and last but not least, those frog guys.  You know those Ninja Turtles! I have a big box of them! Add an antique dresser or two, a couple junk boxes, tax records, and my son's (who is in prison) boots sitting on a dirty dusty sturdy shelf waiting for him.  Along side his boots, are my Grandmother's size 4 1/2 hunting boots.  She shot a bear for real in the 50's on a hunting trip in Wyoming.  Me, no way!  I don't believe in killing the wild friends.  Hell I cry when I pass a dead possum on the road holding its paws over its face, alone and scared.  I always say, "I'm sorry that happened to you (alone).  And then I continue driving to wherever I was going.  Then I find a way to smile and give someone a compliment when I get there.  Even if I am mad, sad, or otherwise.  I deal.  I could live in that grainery with all my STUFF.  Well only if it was remodeled of course.  And had a bathroom and shower and heat!  Yet my buttons and stuff are there, so I would be fine.