the secret downside of a good deed: junk.

is it only my sickness that whenever i help anyone move, i end up coming home with bagfuls of junk? that stuff that guilt prevented to even regift is finally cast off, much to the relief of it's long suffering owner who is finally, through the pain of watching boxes of their belongings turn to mountains, emboldened enough to chuck it. or stuff that truly is great. it's just, you already have too much great stuff of your own.

all in all, after days of helping kathleen pack up her apartment, i was doing pretty well, being given wonderful and useful stuff like canola oil and sugar and taco shells. and then jade came across this monstrosity. apparently someone else does share my sickness.

and no, it's not even mug size. it's one of those weird tall mugs. and as for the extra inch of three dimensionality that the pig jumps from the body of the mug, i shake my head and have nothing to say. jade is mystified at my horror and keeps thrusting it in my face as though expecting me to coo and think it's cute. "it's a baby!"

of course, then i had to go home with three of these plates that my family will recognize as my grandma alice's classic everyday pattern...

i can't help it. i love them so.