Blind Boxes

I keep seeing these toys that, when you buy them, you have no idea which you'll get or what bits and pieces they will come with.  They remind me of the trading cards my brothers used to collect.  Get a double, trade with your buddy, no big deal.  Usually they just came in an envelope or a tiny box.  I like the "World's Smallest Toys" because they're good for the dollhouse.

Blind boxes have exploded in popularity and now you can buy a thing the size of your head (or bigger) that has a whole bunch of things in it.  Again, if that's what floats your boat, go for it.  But once all is said and done, in most cases, you end up with maybe enough toys to fill a cereal bowl and enough trash to fill a stew pot.

With some of them, the packaging is meant to be used as a play set or display, but even with those there are:  Cellophane-type wrapping on the entire thing, a collector's guide, cardboard boxes or compartment doors for each item, and plastic envelopes for each item.

Since so many are dolls, I see unboxing and review videos, and every time, I'm more impressed by the amount of waste than by the toys.  Yes, reuse and recycle is a thing, but so is reduce.




UPDATE:  I found another one I like.  Five Surprise Mini Brands.  Dollhouse scale, realistic looking, toy versions of actual products.  Minimal waste if you're into the reuse thing.

On The Fringes

I'm going to start this blog with a little background information.  Bear with me, readers who already know this stuff.  I am a middle aged woman, never married, never had children of my own.  I come from a large family - seven siblings, all of whom have gifted me with at least one minion.  I became The Aunt.  You know, the one all families used to have: She babysat for free and caused a kid stampede every time she showed up, but she wasn't part of the nuclear family.  She lived on the fringes and was okay with it.

Several years ago, I moved in with a nephew.  The fringes I lived on got a lot shorter.  He and his wife said things like "I've got two kids.  A six year old and a forty year old."  They were in their late twenties/early thirties, so that was always good for a giggle.

Fast forward a little over a decade.  We didn't fight, not any more than any family would.  They didn't throw me out.  I didn't leave in a fit of rage.  I was simply ready to return to adulthood, which frankly had not been kind to me the first time around. 

Determining the new length of the fringes I live on, though...  WOW.  We treat it rather like I'm their grown child, gone off to college or something.  I do holidays with them.  His wife and I frequently run errands together.  I do laundry at their house and keep the boy overnight on a regular basis.

Some things have taken a little getting used to on all sides.  For most of the boy's life, it was the norm that Jeanie was going along on vacation or that he'd stay with Jeanie during one of Mom and Dad's weekend runaways. Mom "stealing Jeanie's truck" is no longer a given.  He's had to do the most adjusting, but even the extended family gets tangled in those changeable fringes.

My mental illness complicates things further.  Despite my meds and all the coping methods, that demon is still whispering constantly.  Despite the fact that my last major episode was fifteen years ago, those around me are concerned about my fragility.  I have to be very careful to make sure people know I'm okay with these changes, that I know they are healthy and sometimes even necessary.

All I can say it that it's a good thing I developed what little fashion sense I have in the early seventies.  I love fringes.  They're fun, if sometimes problematic.