Better Than the Golden Mushroom

Yesterday's transfer from mi Amor's  checking account was a necessity.  I said I wouldn't do it anymore, but we're talking about NEEDS here, chica.  I've always loved earrings. And as a girl, I remember begging mi Madre to let me get my ears pierced.  She told me that I would have to wait until I was 16, but my incessant nagging brought the age restriction down to 8.  I victoriously wore my boring gold posts until the healing time was up.   I quickly moved on, wearing hoops, dangling stars, glittery hearts, and long golden chains that brushed the tops of my shoulders--so Cindi Lauper of me, I know.

I wanted to be like my friend, Tammy, and enshrine them all on a golden mushroom earring stand. But mi Madre was D-O-N-E with the nagging and said, "Save your money, Honey Child." By the time I had enough cash,  I had lost most of my collection; a pair in the pool, one during gymnastics, and another pair left at Tammy's house (now hanging on her mushroom, I'm sure).

We live and learn; and now that I've got a my own little chica, I've made it my personal mission to ensure that all of her earrings are present and accounted for.  So you can understand why I go ballistic when I find her earrings on the bathroom sink, on top of her dresser drawers, right next to the earring stand, and brace yourself for this one, stuck in the bottom of my foot.  

She'll know how lucky she is to have una Madre like me when she goes to college. But until then, the only satisfaction I can gleam from this maddening situation is that you go to Urban Outfitters and buy yourself one too.  I know you'll appreciate such a nifty find.

P.S. We've only filled the earring stand's top row, only 3 more to go.  Looks like I'll do another transfer.  Needs, chica, needs. 

P.S.S. I'm not really going to do another transfer.