My parent's attic is amazing. It is full of generations of weird junk that we got rid of once but really it's all still there. On New Year's Day I ventured up to their 3rd floor. It's dangerous; no real floor, some elk heads, & at least 20 degrees colder than anywhere else in the world. Wait, back story....when I was in elementary school, my mom used to go to the grocery store every Saturday and would come back with a book for me. I went through a long phase of only wanting a book from The Baby-Sitters Club series. They were great but they made me nuts. After reading one it was inevitable that I would start talking like the book in my head for the next 3 days. In other words, I narrated every damn thing I did. I am still embarrassed for my elementary self but it's fine. Maybe it made me a better writer. Back to the attic. I was looking for these books because I was sure I saved them. And I did. I can't stop thinking about how Ann M. Martin has to be a huge dork to have written those books but I love her for it.
The best part was finding THIS inside Super Special #11: