Surprise balls. You know I couldn't just let that one go. When a childhood friend emailed me her joy at the reminder of them but speculated about the possibility that they may no longer exist, the thought totally bummed me out. A world without surprise balls?! Oh, say it ain't so!... Okay, it ain't so. Like a lot of things you thought were done and gone, they can still be found by a good search engine. Whew!
For those of you who missed them, surprise balls are "the toy you destroy to enjoy". The very definition of delight for a kid. Made of paper streamers wrapped round and round, with goodies and toys tucked inside, treasures pop out randomly as you unwind the colored yards of crepe. By the time the ball is all unwrapped, the fun has just begun. Rings and things with plastic gems, small dogs and little men, tiny dinosaurs and wooden trucks, hot cinnamon hearts and candied nuts. And enough streamers to fly away with you. I remember feeling like I'd positively bust. My thrillometer pegged.
Sometimes, writing a blog can be like a surprise ball. When I start a post, I have an idea of the destination, but I try not to look where I'm going and frequently surprise myself. That last one about abstinence is a good example; I have no idea where it came from.
Friday, March 20, 2009
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1 comment:
Hurray!
My thrill-o-meter just rang the top bell, or the needle lay down flat on the right, or did whatever they do to express ultimate sentimental joy at knowing these memories of childhood are not just memories but extant toys, still thrilling adults today. Maybe kids would prefer something that plugs in, but not me, a simple chucklehead.
Thanks, Samartdog, for the good news.
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