Someone asks what kind of a calendar I have right now. Someone is a slyboots, since she gave me one of the two calendars we are using, but I will brag on both of them. The one she gave me is a bead calendar (Tibetan, I think it said?), where you have the arcs of wire with different kinds of bead on them, and you slide them around to say month, then day day, then year year year year.
My other calendar is the same as every year: a very punny calendar made by my aunt Mary, who is also my godmother. This year it has puns based on winged things and time references. (Other years have included things like "barnyard cliches" and "dinosaur artists" and "a cold-blooded musical.") There are also little quotes and birthday listings. For example, yesterday was Cicero's birthday. I don't get the fun of picking my own calendar each year, but I like Aunt Mary's better than most anyway, and I also don't have to go through the effort of picking my own calendar. So.
Someone asked what my first remembered toy was. I had a Snoopy dog. He had a "Joe Cool" T-shirt and a WWI flying ace jacket and hat, and I curled up with Snoopy and my blanket and could sleep anywhere. On a non-sleep-related theme, I remember getting a harvest gold play kitchen for Christmas and trying to thief my godfather's candle (which he had for the peace vigil later that evening) to put it on the burner so it would look more real. Dave kept saying, "You can't do that, Ris," and I kept explaining, patiently, "But I need it, Dave." I was always very patient with him. The same someone asked if I had a doll. I had several dolls, but none of them is standing out as A Very Special Doll. My dolls were less companions than props: you go there and hold still and I will sentence you to the guillotine. (The guillotine was my favorite Bad Thing when I was small. It made such a satisfying thunk and left little ambiguity: people in cartoons fell off high buildings and survived, but no one gets guillotined and wanders around bothering people ever after.)