Thursday, May 27, 2010


{I cannot believe I found this image. You don't understand.}

I have something to admit. I am a periodical junkie. For as long as I can remember, I have read magazines and newspapers. In fact, my first Zoobook was the pink-covered Cheetah edition. I kept all of the magazines in my IKEA magazine holder and was so proud to have a month-by-month catalog of years of animals. Somehow, I lost that first Zoobook. Instead of pretending that my collection began with the penguin or giraffe editions, I mourned. I searched every inch of our house over and over in vain; the lost Zoobook was never to return. In my mind it was buried at the bottom of a steamer trunk my mom kept her magazines in. I swear, I emptied that trunk seven or eight times looking for my magazine, and I was amazed by the dull things my mom was interested in. I thought it was so boring that my mother read magazines about plants and home decorating.

Fast forward to 30 minutes ago. On our coffee table are Real Simple and Coastal Living magazines. On the side table is Better Homes and Gardens. Like mother, like daughter.

And in similar fashion, my husband is the same as my mother's husband. He does not understand how I can fill a basket with magazines.

I wonder, whatever happened to all of those Zoobooks?

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