sticky, gummy, like mucous or glue.
Padding through the mush in our Schlaffenfuss gadabouts, we’ve spent our entire vacation in a very large bowl of oatmeal – a high-fiber resort, as it was touted in the brochure. Well, the gadabouts are really just high rubber boots (provided by the establishment as they take away your money, your passport, and your clothes) that make these desperate sucking sounds each time a foot reaches toward the surface of this mucilaginous terrain.
Bye, see you soon, in your flimsy atmosphere, after we decompress for a few days in a vat of beet borscht.*
*Actually, after this they went on a Maygar safari, stalking the mild paprika in their Hungarian galoshes.
Today, September 18th, is National Play-Doh day.
(This is where we all make a mad dash for the nearest Toys ‘R Us and stock up in order to make little green puppy dogs at our desks…)
My theory is that Play-Doh was an early sociological experiment to determine which children would develop into obsessive-compulsive adults and/or be anal retentive.
I did not always keep Play-Doh in their proper color-designated containers. Sometimes I was just neglectful, other times lazy. During the construction phase, some colors would actually eke slightly into the others and as such, I did not believe color segregation was such a vital thing. I felt it was perfectly reasonable to place a compacted wad of green in the blue jar. Same color family…and though most families don’t get along, I considered it a form of constructive therapy.
My neighbor, Brandon, had no such theory.
My wedlock of Play-Doh hues would send his mind reeling. It was in violation of his principles. It completely rocked his world view. I don’t know what the state of his mental health is these days, but I think I would have to hold myself as at least partially responsible.
This kid would carefully construct buildings, toadstools, trucks, cats…out of one single color to avoid any hazardous cross-contamination. I don’t know if he felt that contamination would cause some kind of fissure in the space/time continuum that would cause some kind of paradox that would negate human existence, but his persistence in monochromatic construction, as a budding artist, rocked my world view. This kid’s probably separating his socks by color, texture and brand in their own separate drawers in one of his many dressers.