Raccoon Girl

When I was a kid, my family often visited my grandparents up at a place called Foresta in Yosemite National Park.  One of the highlights of those visits were the local raccoons, whom we fed.  Yes, you read that correctly: we fed the wildlife.  I can remember sitting inside my Great Aunt Mary's cabin when the raccoons would arrive for their supper, kibbles of dog food that we placed out in tin pie pans for their dining pleasure.  If we were late with the vittles, the bandits would bang the pie pans and, on occasion, pull open the screen door, allowing it to slam shut as a reminder that they were ready to dine.  We'd watch them lick the dog kibble before eating their fill and then waddling away from the cabin's deck.

Though we'd now be kicked out of the World Wildlife Fund and locked up for this sort of nonsense, at the time we thought it was terribly charming.  And this happy childhood memory has left me with a soft spot for raccoons.  That's a good thing because when T saw me searching a basket looking for my jewelry she announced that I looked "like a raccoon pawing through a dumpster."  Lucky for her, I found that to be a compliment.  In all fairness, it was also accurate. 

For Christmas, she put an end to this disorganized nonsense, with the gift of a lovely jewelry box to hold my treasures.

Everything has a spot and I'll now be a great deal more organized as I sort through my jewelry options. 

It's true that I'll look less like a raccoon when I pick out some earrings.

But that's okay....I still have a closet or two to sort through.