Lately, when Spousal Unit and I visit our parents, they yell at us. Things like, "Why do you have all this crap here? You don't live here anymore. Why isn't it gone yet? Here, take anything you can fit in the car!"
That's only a slight exaggeration of the verbal pyrotechnics from my visit home this weekend. But I'm glad to have taken this stuff home. Here's a sampling of my middle school and high school selves: buried treasure in one little box.
So. Much. Star Wars junk. Literally. I found several empty chip bags and empty trading card containers, which I must have thought would be valuable someday. I was obnoxiously excited for Episode I to come out, and saved everything in sight having to do with the movie.
Including this Anakin Skywalker action figure, still in the package. It's probably worth less than I paid for it.
Not only did I find the Star Wars trading cards, I also found my old baseball and football cards. I doubt there's anything good in there, but Spousal Unit was impressed by my having a Mark Grace card (he played on the Cubs).
Weird tidbit: Anyone remember the Sweet Secrets lockets that held lip gloss? The band around the baseball cards is from that series.
Yes, I saved a jar of Gilbert Brown peanut butter and two cans of Coke. The Packers can had almost entirely evaporated, but the little one still fizzed when I opened it. I told my mom about that, and she joked that I should have drunk it. My limit is 15 years past expiration; that can was 16.
And as you can see, the peanut butter expired in 1998.
Finding all of my old flute music made me break out the instrument for the first time in years. Surprisingly, I can still play pretty well. (My embouchure is shot, of course.)
I had Ben Glenn, the chalk artist, sign my sketchbook when he visited my middle school. The signature is kind of cool, but the artwork inside is ridiculous.