The Curio Cabinet.

I don't like brick-a-brack. I don't like collections of things. I don't like clutter. Any more than 3 oranges are too many in the fridge.


So my Mother thought that I would like to have a new Snowbabies figurine every year at Christmas. God love her, they are cute. If you haven't seen them, they are tiny little bisque figures that are coated in little bisque bits the size of finely grated coconut to resemble snow. Their little chubby faces poke out of their parkas and they are always doing something very cute, like coloring on walls, or admiring their bums in mirrors. As collectibles go, they are quite sweet. If you have to collect collectables, that is.

So Jamie and I have moved quite a bit since we have been together and the Snowbabies have fared quite well. They have been all over Newfoundland. They have crossed the country. They have survived the kids playing ball in the house.

But I finally broke down and requested a curio cabinet as a Christmas gift from my mother who didn't quite agree with my initial request for a carpet steamer. It arrived with the normal fuss that I have when ordering anything from Sears. It only took 2.5 hours of my life for them to find it the warehouse while I waited outside in a snowstorm with two grumpy kids in the backseat of the truck.

After one hour of waiting for anything, you figure that it must be coming soon and you can't have wasted a full hour of your life waiting on something just to give up and go home. After 2 hours you think you have lost your mind altogether. So you can image my delight when after an additional 30 minutes, a nice young man came to the parking lot with a big box, apologized for the wait and opened the back of my truck to put it inside.

You can imagine the opposite of delight when he picked up the long anticipated box full of wood and glass and dropped it on the parking lot.

I would either have to drive back around the mall, put the hungry baby back into the stroller, go back into Sears, ride the elevator to the basement, wait in line and then request a refund, take the elevator back up, leave the store, wrestle the still hungry child into the car seat she had just waited for hours in before driving back to the house or take my chances and bring it home.

What a hard decision.

So it's been sitting in my dining room for the better part of a week. I am short on space and even shorter on patience around here, so though it was intended to be a gift from Santa, I sequestered Jamie last night and he put it together. 4 hours later, we determined there was no broken glass, thank goodness, though it did come complete with a dandy scratch.

However, after 2.5 hours of waiting at Sears and 3.5 hours of assembling, one does not then spend another 3.5 disassembling, repacking, then standing in line to deal with the biddies at Sears. I will live with the scratch. I have 3 kids in the house; something similar was destined to happen.

Now I should mention that while putting up the Christmas tree last week, Jamie and Daniel packed up the Snowbabies and Willow Tree Angels that lived on the mantle to replace them with Jesus, Mary and Joseph and the rest of the nativity posse that live up there during Christmas. The followed my directions, wrapping them carefully and putting them into a shoebox. I was so pleased that they listened to me about something.

So this morning when I was moving the little friends into their new wooden and glass home, I was dismayed to see that the little bum admiring fellow and the Naughty or Nice sign from another scene had broken. Then I noticed that the Man, Woman and Child Willow Tree Angel scene was a little upsetting to look at, what with the father's head having cracked off.

I carefully dusted them and then assigned them their new shelves, and repaired them as I went along. They look lovely in their places. The cracks happened in convenient places and you couldn’t tell if you didn’t know.

Now that everyone was in good health, I was suddenly scared for when Bridget noticed that the door opens and she can take out the "Babies".

So I said, "Ssssh, don't touch. Babies are sleeping."

As cute as a button (and cuter than all the babies on the shelves) she knelt in front of the cabinet and sssshhhh'd babies to sleep. Periodically, through the day she makes her way back to the cabinet to ensure the babies are sleeping soundly. Thankfully they are pretty quiet and she might believe they are always sleeping. But she is a very good baby minder.

So I have made an executive decision. It looks like the next time the babies need to move somewhere; Bridget will be in charge of packing the box.