Monday Musings-Collections

Can't think of much lead-in to the post today. Too early maybe. I don't do much collecting nowadays. At least not intentionally! If you looked at the number of non-plastic (and disposable, but I don't, I keep them) conference bags, nice bags with logos, you wouldn't believe me. I just added another bag from a conference the past weekend, but it's paper so probably won't be around as long as some of the others. And pens still accumulate somehow though I don't do that intentionally either. As a matter of fact I'm trying to get rid of stuff. If it's usable I try to re-home it. If it's actually trash, only kept for sentimental reasons until it's ragged and worn, I'm now willing to let it go. That is a work in progress. I hope the progress will increase, but knowing me it will no doubt be a long process.

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    I collect things. Well, I start collecting things. An item will appeal to me and I'll decide I want more like it. I mention that I like – whatever – or friends and family notice so then they start gifting me with those items. Angels. Little ones, big ones. Paper angels. Snow angel babies. Porcelain angels. Pictures of angels. From my sister a beautiful glass angel ornament holding a bell inscribed with the line from Its a Wonderful Life.
    Then it was clowns. First a large framed picture of a clown and a couple of smaller prints. I found three exquisite porcelain head clowns, each different and with its own stand. Then my husband gave me a set of four Emmett Kelly seasonal figurines complete with certificates of authenticity, still my treasures. My daughter gave me a pair of ceramic clown masks and her friend some clown bells. 
    But always I apparently bored of looking for more examples of each category and eventually moved on to something else. However I have two collections that I never seem to tire of adding to. No advertising pen is too garish or blatant for me. Fine, medium or wide point, it makes no difference. A pen from any display which appears to be free for the taking will always find its way to my purse and eventually my desk. If I like a pen someone hands me to write something with I'll blatantly ask to keep it.
    The other collection of objects I will always desire one or a dozen more of is books. I can never have enough books. Perhaps my love of books stems from having very few in my home as a child. A whole new world opened to my five year old self when I learned to read. Far from hating my schoolbooks, I devoured them. And the school library was my mecca. I probably missed out on a good bit of real life because I lived in books. But I do not regret it. At some point I realized that somebody had to write books. And much later, I decided I might be one of those somebodies who wrote books. So I did.