My Mom is really doing a job on her three-story-plus-basement house in San Francisco. Forty years plus of accumulated stuff from a marriage, some of it dragged cross-country when we moved to California. My parents kept everything. My Mom’s doing a pretty good job of tossing a lot of the stuff she no longer needs.

One of the things she kept was all the letters and cards I sent home over time. Most of which I’ve taken back to my own house (since I haven’t managed to declutter my own house, might as well just add to the clutter, eh?). The kids have been doing their part, going into my office despite strict orders not to, digging into the boxes, and redistributing the wealth all over the place.

One of the cards they found strikes me as utterly hilarious. It’s from October 1987. I had just started working at Apple and was on a business trip to a trade fair at Disneyland (which, strangely, I remember not at all). My sister was working at Merrill Lynch. The stock market had just crashed on Black Monday.

The picture side of the card is from Dumbo: Dumbo is on the cliff, Timothy J. Mouse on his back with the magic feather, a train of black crows pushing from behind. And I wrote:

Bought this card thinking of Deirdre. Dumbo = Wall Street, the birds = investors, the mouse = US Economy. Only this time the pachyderm doesn’t fly and the mouse buys it.

Had a great time at the Magic Kingdom/computer trade show. Disneyland is like Apple, except with no Macs but more insanity.

No, seriously: that was my whole card.

I can’t believe I thought of writing that, nor that my mother saved it. I’m kinda glad she did though. It’s nice having some proof that I have a wacky sense of humor, especially on days when I’m not at all sure I do.

Okay, phew! Things seem to be back to normal around here. I hadn’t saved my self-built templates for the left column and right column, but then I remembered I’d mailed them to someone a while back—turned out to be almost 2 years ago, but who’s counting?—and with a little tweaking they seem to be their good old selves. Yay. And everything seems to work fine.

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Simon is fine. Or, to be more exact, Simon is the same little boy as ever: he’s smiley, flirty, and trying out new words all the time. (Still refuses to say “Simon.” Go figure.) We went to see the neurologist on Monday, and he observed Simon, gave him reflex tests, looked at the charts, and said, basically, “Huh. No idea.” Well, okay, not quite no idea: the leading contenders are 1) a seizure of some kind and 2) a reaction to medication, and the only medication we’ve been giving him of late is Amoxicillin for his toe.

He’s taking an EEG test in a few weeks. This consists of making him stay up real late, then making him get up real early in the morning. I have no idea why we’d want to do this, but that’s what they said.