Friday, June 30, 2006

Hey, Superman

This story begins last week, at a cottage by the lake where we spent seven days sans cell phone, computer, and television in the company of children. At twilight one evening, more desirous of finishing a second chilled glass of Chablis than of playing one more round of soccer or hide and seek, I pointed out a gnarled tree to 5 year old Jesse and deemed it, (as mothers are wont to do after the first glass,) a "Magic Tree."

"If you collect 100 acorns and lay them at the base of the tree, it will grant your wish." I tell him, settling into the wooden swing, relaxing as he ran across the yard squirrel-like and began to make his pile.

Much later, I leaned in closely behind him to hear him whisper his desire into the textured bark. I expected to hear him ask for a toy or game, to express his yearning for an object or item that could be easily purchased, or sought after and obtained on eBay.

"I wish I could fly." His back turned towards me, lips pressed into the tree, his shoulders hunched in concentration, he wished and wished and wished.

"Doesn't happen right away," the wine told him, "Tree magic is very slow magic. We'll just have to wait and see what happens. In the meantime, why don't you fly on upstairs put yourself in pjs, and put yourself to bed?" A bold wish on my part, unsubstantiated by acorns, and met with as much immediate success as his own.

I thought the wish was forgotten-blown out to sea by days spent swimming in the lake or riding bikes. Before bed we spoke of picking strawberries and making swords from driftwood; there was no mention of flight other than to remark upon the birds that sang a morning greeting.

Then last night, our first full night back in New York, Jesse had a long conversation with Kip about rocket boots and jet backpacks. Anxious to get to all that TiVo had captured in our absence, Kip did nothing to dispel the talk of engines and boosters. Jesse fell asleep believing that his father would make all that was necessary for him to fly in the morning; that from duct tape and cardboard boxes his father could make flight a reality.

The first thing Jesse did upon awakening was call me into his room and begin to discuss his plans for flight. It could have been Christmas morning for all the enthusiasm he brought to his description of what would be built that day, and all the flying he would do. I nodded, sipped my tea, noted the sheen on my boy's upper lip, the wide pupils full of excitement, the anticipation visible in every limb. I left him sitting on his bed, talking excitedly about what the day held for him, and went to my husband to tell him this was entirely his fault and ask him what he planned to do about it.

Kip went in and tried to explain that he could not make a flying suit from materials readily available at Home Depot. And then the crying began.

I went in and tried to explain that rockets were fire-based, and that rocket fuel was dangerous, and you had to be at least 14 to fly, and that there were rules about this sort of thing. His mouth open, face wet, Jesse looks at me and says "yes, but I made that wish on the Magic Tree and YOU said it would come true. Were you just pretending? Were you? Were you?" I was ashamed at the look of utter betrayal that crossed his face as he said this, and in an instant knew the days of seeing fairies in the corner of the woods would soon be ending. I want my child to believe in magic forever. But in the end, magic can disappoint. Mommies can disappoint. And the crying continued.

Annie comes to the door and asks "What's wrong wif my bwother? Why you crying Jesse?" and she reaches out a tiny hand to comfort him, which he kicks away in anger and rolls over to face the wall. " I want to f-f-f-f-fly...." He keeps wailing. Annie finds this ridiculous. Just yesterday she wanted to be a guinea pig-but she got over it.

We try other tactics. We leave him to himself and tell him to come out of his room when he gets a hold of himself. He cries another 20 minutes. I tell him to be grateful for the fact that he can walk-tell him there are children who can't run, can't swim, can't skip. He thinks about this for all of three minutes before returning to his sobbing. He wants a hug but he does not want a hug, he is hungry but he does not want breakfast, he tells me his heart has broken and he will never draw another picture for me.

Kip leaves, because this morning he will be bringing Chirpie to the vet to put down. She has begun to pee everywhere, most notably on the children's beds, and at roughly 140 human years, it is time for her to go gently into that good night.

Last night we discussed what to tell the children. I suggest we invent the most perfect farm. "We'll leave a note for the kids" I tell Kip, "From Chirpie's mother. It will say that she came to pick her up, and that they are going to live on a farm and eat tuna out of the can every day." Kip suggests telling the children the truth. I look at him like he is crazy.

I realized as I bought my morning tea, 38 minutes late for work, having left Jesse still sobbing at the elevator door; (" I will NOT have a good day.") that I need to let the shadows touch my children. That they need to know that trees do not grant wishes, that 5 year old boys can't fly, that Daddies can't fix everything, that Mommies make up stories, that sometimes the things we love and think will be around forever must die. I know in my heart that to provide them with the strength and armor they will need in life that I must show them truths in all their messiness. But I wish it weren't so. And so I continue to gather acorns.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

This blog is for YOU

I won't be blogging for a week, so I've loaded on a bunch of pictures of our new Fall products in an effort to tide you over. But you may also write your own version of this blog in the comments section. I know when I return that Spamela will have written her usual comment about making money at home, but I am hoping that some of the rest of you will share your wit and wisdom with the rest of the world. Have a great week!

I am Woman...

In the winter, I have snow balls.


What mug would Jesus have?

I Hate To Cook

Frankly, I'm so lazy that Kip places all the orders.

New Travel Mug

I am not the clutterbug-Kip is

Perfect mug for Kip

This is what the kids think his REAL name is.

More Fall

Friday, June 16, 2006

Happy Father's Day, Dad

As a child, had I heard "My father can kick your father's butt" on the playground, perhaps I would have replied with; "Yeah, but my father can build a bird house or paint a six foot high canvas, or build a clay bank around a blown up balloon!" Because my father could certainly do all that and more. He could build things, grow things, paint things, imagine things. And yet, he was also a businessman. His hair never grew beyond his collar, I never saw him wear a pair of sandals, and although interested in athletics, he probably wouldn't have been caught dead in a yoga class. So one of the best gifts he gave me was the shattering of the "artistic" stereotype. In watching my father be a tie wearing commuter, a planter,a successful businessman, a sculptor, a painter, a leader, I formed the belief that those abilities lay within all of us, including me.

My father taught me that creativity is a verb. It's not something you possess or try to own--it is an action, a movement, a decision to make something new appear in the world.

My father taught me that work of any kind is joyful. That life is about the business of doing. That anything worth doing is certainly worth doing well. That when you do something, you gain satisfaction in the knowledge that you did your best: and that other people's opinions about what you did-good or bad- don't matter at all. That esteem lies in the amount of effort put forth.

To this day, my father is sometimes frustrated by my penchant for hyperbole. He is exasperated by my tendency to revise history, to lean towards the dramatic, to write my present story with a slant and to bend and weave facts in a manner that pleases me. Things that I do, this blog included, will puzzle him. He will wonder why I felt a need to publicly share all of the above.

At which point, he may likely blame my mother and her side of the family.

Nevertheless, Dad, I am proud to be your daughter. Happy Father's Day!

Happy Father's Day Dee-Dad

Ten Things I Learned From Dee-Dad

1. Remember in grammar school when you were studying American History, and learning about The Constitution, and your teacher told you that it could be important to know about later in life, and you were like; "yeah, right-about as useful as Algebra, snort." Dee-Dad proves she was correct. Sorry, Mrs. Applebee.

2. Lawyers can be good people. Frustrated actors can be great lawyers. Both can be amazing Father-in-Laws.

3. Every day should start with a latte and a donut for the people you care about. They are like kisses for the tummy.

4. Drive a "no top" car. Blast musicals on the car radio as you make your way down life's highway. Sing loudly. Understand "pitch" as it relates to life outside of baseball.

5. Golf; more than a game, it's a way of life. But make sure to get your better half expensive jewelry whenever you can, just to keep your hobby in perspective.

6. There is a place children can get sent to called "Chair School." You don't want to get sent there by Dee-Dad, and you also never want to visit Door School.

7. Refrain from saying "I don't like." If you need to be frank with Dee-Dad, try to use statements such as "This sucks..." or "I can't stand..." Extra points if you say "I abhor..."

8. It takes a real man to kick prostate cancer right in the ass.

9. It doesn't matter if you are 4 or 40; hearing a father say they are proud of you still makes you feel like you are king of the world and can accomplish anything.

10. You can bring equal passion to the things you do in life- your family, your work, your enjoyment of red wine and golf, your stance on ethics, your enjoyment of traveling to osh gosh county and speaking to people, your ability to read the Times cover to cover, the pleasure of a choir in full song. At the end of the day, it is the love you have put into the moments we are together that matters-and Dee-Dad fills them to the brim, our cups always overfloweth when we are with him. Happy Fathers Day!

Shimmerplanet Pride

Carolyn sent the following and I will update as she sends more info. We are very proud that our girl's band is going to be part of the Gay Pride Weekend:






Wednesday, June 14, 2006

For Kip 6/15/06 Happy Anniversary

On June 15, 1996-ten years ago- I walked down the aisle to "Going to the Chapel," and made Kip Veasey my husband. We walked out to "I Got You Babe." The reception was held in my parent's backyard, decorated with balloons, with a wooden dance floor laid out in front of the gazebo my father had built. It was a hundred degrees, but we square danced the afternoon away. It was a sweaty, deliriously happy, beautiful day --it was the days of wine and daisies.

I was introduced to Kip by my best friend from high school, who had met Kip's friend from high school during a layover in an airport somewhere while both were traveling to different exotic destinations. The two friends shared a cocktail in an airport lounge and told each other if they each happened at any point to be in New York, that they would connect for dinner. When that actually occurred, each felt the need to bring along a friend.

I recognized Kip from the moment I saw him, as the man I had been dreaming about since I was a little girl. I handed him the keys to my apartment three days later. I abandoned all pretenses at game playing and coyness- and I threw myself bravely into love, confident that he would catch me. I did not need him to take care of me. I did not need him to fulfill me. But he did both those things for me anyway.

He proposed on a rainy New Year's eve. He rushed me out of the house, not saying where we were going, and I whined and cursed at him for not giving me enough time to get my mascara on, or fix my hair just so. We took at cab to the Museum, where we found we had arrived too late, and the Temple of Dendor was closed. So he pulled me in the rain up the grassy embankment outside the windows to that mystical place, while my high heels (which were velvet) sunk inches into the muddy ground. And because it was drizzling, I couldn't tell what was sweat, and what was tears ,and what was rain-but it was a wet proposal. And then he turned white as a sheet.

Kip lay for hours on the couch after throwing up-our dinner plans abandoned-while I called every family member, every friend, to squeal "Guess what? I'm ENGAGED!"

Ten years have passed in a blur. Some memories are stronger than others; there is Kip, staying up with me all night to unload pots from a kiln, to build a store, to change a window. There is Kip ever patient with me, as I learn to negotiate social situations that prior to marrying him I would avoid. (Like shaking hands with government officials. Not my thing-but I did it.) There is his face the day we found out we were pregnant with Jesse: sheer disbelief and fright, mixed with wonder. There is Kip at 2 a.m. bringing me a bottle while the baby is screaming and I am yelling at him even louder; "Just bring me a damn bottle!" There is Kip crying with me in relief and joy to find out we would have a healthy little girl. And in every memory I am reminded of his basic goodness, his kindness and strength, his capacity for love and his ability to give. He is such a good, good man.

Happy Anniversary to my best friend, my partner in all I do, my soul mate. XO

Monday, June 12, 2006

I'm always Hungarian

Happy Birthday Monika! 25 today. Even though it's been five years, I still remember what that felt like....

In honor of your birthday, here is a Hungarian Blessing:

May you live long and happily and with your fellow
May your toenails never turn a shade of yellow
May you continue to recognize familar faces
and not have hair start to grow in odd places
May you wake in the morn without aches and pain
May you continue to drink and never weight gain
May you treasure the days that make up the years
Happy Birthday Monika, and from all of us- cheers!

Sunday, June 11, 2006

Survey Says...

My little sister sent me this survey-said I would not fill it in and send it back. So of course I will post it here. Just to show her she is WRONG. (Nah nah nah nah nah, by the way.)

1. What time did you get up this morning? 6:44 am

2. Diamonds or Pearls? Cheap mexican silver. I'm a sucker for a sidewalk table with rings for $5.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Over the Hedge. I'm hoping the racoon gets a nomination.

4. What is your favorite TV show? Sopranos, Greys Anatomy, Survivor, Desperate Housewives, Deadwood, Entourage. God, I obviously need to get a life.

5. What did you have for breakfast this morning? Oatmeal. Instant. 2 packets of Splenda. I always start the day optimistic about losing weight.

6. What is your middle name? Carol. Oddly enough, named after my Grandfather. Poor guy.

7. What is your favorite cuisine? Diner Food. I like either the breakfast version or the burger deluxe-depends on what time it is and how much I've had to drink.

8. What foods do you dislike? Seafood. Except tuna-especially with miracle whip, pineapples, walnuts and a dab o relish--- anything I can do to make it not taste like tuna.

10. What is your favorite CD at the moment? I am subjecting everyone at the studio to the entire contents of my ipod at the moment. Trying to skip the odd show tune.

11.What kind of car do you drive? I don't know how to drive. Last car I actually did get behind the wheel of had large rubber bumpers and an electrical wire attached to the ceiling.

12. Favorite sandwich? PBJ. With extra crunchy peanut butter. Much better than oatmeal.

13. What characteristics do you despise? Sloth, laziness, mean spiritedness, self absorbed behavior. I admire: people who take responsibility for their actions, honesty. I am puzzled by; people who are intimidated by me.

14. What are your favorite clothes? Jeans, white t shirt from J Crew, black cardigan. Have been wearing it every single day since 2001. Wonder if anybody has noticed yet.

15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Someplace with the kids like Disneyland or Atlantis. Um, I meant that romantic hide away with Kip. Uh, yeah that's it.

16. What color is your bathroom? Blue.

17. Where would you want to retire? Anywhere there is grass and trees; where trick or treaters ring doorbells at Halloween.

18. Favorite time of day? Dinner time, especially if Kip cooked.

19. Where were you born? Chicago

20. Favorite sport to watch? Physical challenges on SURVIVOR

24. Coke or Pepsi? Cup of tea. Many cups of tea.

25. Are you a morning person or night owl? I hit my stride midday

26. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone? See the article about MUD in this month's CRAFTS REPORT magazine. I need my teeth whitened. New MUD catalog coming out end of this month.

27. What did you want to be when you were little? paid attention to.

28. What is your best childhood memory? Jumping in leaf piles, playing games of kick ball in the cul de sac, sneaking a kitten into my room and keeping it a secret from my parents for a whole 2 hours before the dog ratted me out. (They let me keep it.)

29. What are the different jobs you have had in your life? Paper boy at age ten, babysitter at 12. Started to work for real at 14. I sold tuxedos for many years (cheap prom date). Worked in a chinese restaurant as a dishwasher through college. Waitress, off broadway production assistant, kindergarten teacher. Geisha one night only. Entrepreneur which means now I am chief cook and bottle washer

30. Nicknames: Mama, Mommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmy, Ma

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Vamanos Yolanda?

So the time has come for the lovely Yolanda to leave the House of Mud. The Witness Protection Plan likes to keep its people moving...wait..was I supposed to write that Yolanda? Anyhow, she has plans to travel the world, see amazing sights, meet new people, and collect all the quarters from each new state. It goes without saying that she will be deeply missed by all. Back when she started with us, Jesse was still popping up in the office next door to home, dressed as Peter Pan (except missing the pants). She has handled key accounts and most certainly held the key to all our hearts (even JN's; although in addition to a key you need a 15 digit security code and a cornea scan.)

We hope that Yolanda enjoys her journey and we wish her much luck on the roads ahead. We hope she leaves with a minimal amount of baggage, and that all her troubles can be packed up in an old kit bag. We hope the road rises to meet her, the wind is always at her back, and that eventually she'll circle round and visit often. In the meantime, we want to add some mementos to your metaphorical suitcases. Here is what your fellow co workers would like you to leave MUD with:

CAROLYN: Plenty of snacks and anti bacterial soap…. (Because at the end of the day, it really is all about something salty,and something sweet, and having clean hands.)

BECKY:A lifetime supply of Apple Cinnamon Soy Crisps and an ipod that won’t die. (because again, GAWD FORBID you find yourself with nothing to munch on.)

JZ: I wanna pack a rotiserrie chicken('cause the girl loves her bird) and a 10 cent coupon to dallas bbq to help ease the cost of the plane trip. Also some rubber bands so she can fling them at the guy in front of her on the plane and think of me.......possibly some fake bologne and a green sweatshirt similar to the one she wears out on a daily basis. MMMMMMM, some sparkling water, chocolate marshmallows, canned soup, weird food items wrapped in foil......... (Just as an aside, we asked for A SENTENCE OR TWO. JZ rewrote his response while waiting for his lunch, obviously)

CANDACE: The movie “Fried Green Tomatoes” (because her real name is Towanda)…and one of those beer drinking hats (because she loves the juice and sports).- (Just as a note here, Candace skipped this part of the assignment and went straight to sappy love you-miss you-you are my friend kind of stuff. Then she sobered up before lunch and sent this in)

UMA: All she needs to pack are a flask and a compass. I can’t believe I won’t have anyone to attack me with rubber bands and coo at penguins anymore!! Meeooow *sniffle
(glug, glug. Obviously hanging out with Candace now.)

KIP:Labels and routing guides- (I have no idea what these are, but strangely I agree)

JILL: This reminds me of the “I’m going on a picnic game”. Mom would resort to it for us in the car a lot to keep us kids from killing each other in the back, (before Dad had to yell “don’t make me stop this car!”). The first person to go had to pick something for the picnic basket that started with the letter “A” and say it out loud. “I’m going on a picnic and I’m bringing Apples” - then the next person had to pick something starting with “B” and say the whole sentence again but with the “A” thing too, and then say their “B” thing. The next person had to pick from “C” and say all three… memorizing the A and the B thing…as you get on into the alphabet, it gets harder and harder and funny to try to remember the list. It’s fun. Sooooo, I’m packing Yolanda’s bag and I’m putting in an Alka Seltzer (in case she get indigestion)
(Again, the instructions were 1-2 sentences. We are amazed at Jill's restraint.)

JOHN N: season tickets to the Knicks cause she likes hoops.-I'm gonna also throw in a set of keys to the office since she'll always be welcomed back . (awww, so typical of JN to get all sentimental like that, aint it?)

MONIKA: I see that she got a lot of food in her bag, but still, she also have to take some cheese with her, it is a must, but NO PEPPERS in any form!! Also a must have, any type of clothing in GREEN. Oh, and an alarm clock! )) Who knows, maybe she will need it when she has to be on time to lay on the beach in Greece, or under the palm trees in Paraguay and throwing mangos at strangers walking by. It always comes handy!! (Monika taking a cue from Jill here obviously)

ALYSSA: a mini-dirty martini bar. chicken lemon-egg soup and omelettes from the Greek Diner. the DVDs of Lost and AmericaƂ’s Next Top Model. and John Nelson’s IPod song lists. (Cuz it's easier to travel when ya got some booty shakin music-true dat)

MAYA: I’d put a BIG but foldable world atlas into Yolanda’s bag with many little handprint stickers, so that she would place one over each place that she travels to!! And a book of international stamps – to send postcards to Monika here so that we could all be a part of her travels!!! (Hey-where was the kiss ass part of this response Maya? Didn't you mean to write: 'wonderful memories of a great place to work with outstanding bosses?' Sheesh.)

Anyway, I'd say let's have one for the road but from the above it's clear that if you have one more you may get pickled. So GOOD LUCK, GODSPEED, and come back and visit us often!!!

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

More new Fall-Crazy Cat Mug

Lenny and Boots work at the studio. Lenny's job: to walk back and forth across the table while you are in the middle of painting, attempting to get his butt under your chin, his tail up your nose. He is unusually accident prone and addicted to catnip. He can usually be found wherever I am. Boots, his snobby sister, prefers the company of men and likes to curl up in a box beside Dan and flirt with him throughout the day. While Lenny is as coltish a cat as God ever made-all gangly limbs and ginormous feet, Boots sleeps tucked into a perfect circle, paws crossed daintily.

At home, I have Chirpie and Elsie. Chirpie is roughly 120 years old, with cataracts in both eyes, mangy fur, and the bump of each individual bone in her spine clearly visible. She looks as though I buried her in Stephen King's "pet cemetery" and then dug her up. She is the perfect mascot for Night of the Living Dead. And, why, you might ask, do we not put this cat down? Because she eats. Lord, how she eats. She lives to eat-she eats to live: Kip and I both have a problem with destroying this creature with such a hearty appetite. So we let her hang out by the food bowl all day, except for when Annie tosses her blankie over her head, scoops her up and puts her in her doll carriage, wheels her through the apartment bumping into walls. Then Kip and I look at each other and think; hey, the cat vomit everywhere, the incredibly stinky and vile cat box...all worth it the way our little girl kisses the matted black fur of this animal as she tries to force it into a t shirt. We think the same when both kids hug the rounded sleeping back of Elsie, laziest cat on the planet, parked on the end of our bed, and cry out in delight "she's purring mom, she's purring!" And a moment later; But what's that smell?"

So here is the Crazy Cat Lady mug made for the crazy cat people everywhere. Except, obviously, the cat guys. Kip doesn't think it's a big enough demographic to make the Crazy Cat Gentleman mug. Some men are born to cats, others have cats thrust upon them I guess.

More Fall-the Cheap Therapy Mirror

I heart Me, dammit.

Monday, June 05, 2006

Divinity Discussion with Jesse

I am nothing if not efficient. So, being a lapsed Protestant and regretting not putting Jesse into Sunday Bible School as I myself grew up attending, is it any wonder that I decided to catch him up completely by purchasing the 1970's musical GODSPELL? (Plus, isn't "Day By Day" a rocking tune on its own?) Much like the lazy mother who hands her pubescent daughter a pamphlet that explains all, I popped the DVD into the machine and hoped it would address, in 90 technicolor minutes, all the greater questions my 5 year old might have.

The movie is enjoyed, the popcorn is eaten, we ready for bed. I await big questions. And so he begins.

JESSE: Mom-why did Jesus have a Superman shirt on?
(For indeed, Jesus, played by Alias' Victor Garber, is clad in a superman shirt with Mork and Mindy suspenders and a white afro that is to die for.)

ME: Well, ummm, in real life, Jesus didn't really wear a Superman shirt...

JESSE: But you said the movie had real life people in it.

ME: Well, it did, but they were actors, honey.

JESSE: You mean they weren't real? Mom is Jesus real?

ME: Yes, well what I meant...

JESSE: Is Superman real?

ME: Well, ummm

JESSE: Why didn't Superman save Jesus when the bad men were killing him?

ME: Well, honey, Jesus lived BEFORE Superman

JESSE: Well then how come Jesus wore a Superman shirt?

Father's Day Discount

A big shout out to my peeps at GRAND CENTRAL TERMINAL at the lone standing OuR NaMe Is MuD in Lexington Passageway. Please stop by and visit sometime soon. Between now and Father's Day, June 18 2006, you can print out this blog page and present it for 10% off of your purchase. We offer many great Father's Day items (check the website under the recipient DAD). Sorry that this offer is available only to people who appear live and in person. Please say hello to Pat or Oscar or Abi.

Shimmerplanet Tonight 6/5/06

The lovely Carolyn's band is performing this Monday night, June 5th, at the PUSSYCAT LOUNGE in Manhattan. They are on at 10 pm (or a few minutes after).

They will be be joined by the gorgeous Christo Logan on cello. And he is rather gorgeous in a deppishly reeves kind of way.

Now, this may shock you as much as it shocks us, but the PUSSYCAT LOUNGE is NOT just a rock 'n roll establishment. Apparently, the ground floor level is a venue for the display of women who are in need of CLOTHES. So, in the spirit of Goodwill, as it were, Shimmerplanet is holding a women's clothing drive in conjunction with their concert. Bring your gently used items to the show, and receive a KISS from a band member! (Please post here in cmments if you get one from the cello player)


Pussycat Lounge
99 Greenwich Street at Rector
1, R, and W lines stop at Rector

Time: 10 pm

Cost: $8


Thursday, June 01, 2006

A Sneak Peek at Fall

Our Fall 2006 line is going to be available SOON, but visitors to this blog can begin viewing it right now-one piece at a time-with Director's comments!

We start with the Liquid Bday goblet. Because so many fine retailers have asked and asked for a Birthday item. But really, who wants to drink out of a "You're Over The Hill at 40" mug on a daily basis? (Not to say that I should name the well that I will never drink from-as after all, we are the company that makes whatever it is that people tell us they want. Even if it's just WRONG.) Anyhow, I developed this concept one night out drinking for somebody's big day. Bottom line: Alcohol=Fun.

As always, your comments are soooooooooo welcome. Feel free to rate this piece on a scale of one to ten, 10 meaning you would give your right arm for it, 1 meaning you wouldn't buy it for a buck at the dollar store.

Look for more of Fall 2006 right here every day. Also; stop by our Grand Central location and see Pat-he will have already received a few prototypes of items before they were run in production.