Strange Little Things

We all have strange little things we like; things that really have no major influence on our lives, but we like them just the same. I get a thrill when I get/experience/happen upon these stupid little things Here is a sample of a few of my random favorites:

  •  The smell of cornmeal—I don’t know why. It gives me a warm and safe feeling. Maybe it’s because when I was a child, and I’m talking really young here, my parents owned a chicken farm that they bought with four other Hungarian couples right after they arrived in Los Angeles. One couple stayed in the little house on the farm and worked there during the week, and the others went out on the weekends to build coops, fix whatever needed fixing, and general chores. They raised the chickens for the eggs and feed them cornmeal. That smell brings back vague memories of the chicken farm. (I may have to blog just about smells; I have several that mean something to me.)
  •  Wooden ice cream spoons—you know the ones wrapped in white paper that came with those ice cream cups? I love those things. A few years ago, someone was doing some sort of ice cream giveaway and I squirreled away about a dozen of those spoons to pull out when I needed special cheering. They’re gone now, but whenever I have a chance I eat ice cream with a wooden spoon. Those new fangled plastic ones that they put in gelato just aren’t as good.
  •  Miniatures—again, I don’t know why. I have enough dust catchers in my house. But anything miniature I love. Totally useless stuff. Maybe it’s a reaction to being tall and having gone through years of teasing for my height.
  •  Staring at waves or water flowing—I don’t know. Something about the constant change mesmerizes me, and I can get lost in the images. I can’t even say lost in thought, because I’m can’t really remember thinking while I do it. Maybe it’s just a form of meditation for me. On an opposite note staring into a fire (not a candle flame—too small) does the same thing.
  •  Finding random obscure grammar facts—My learning of language will never cease. Yeah, I’m one of those people. But I get a real thrill when I discover something (It could just be the sense of superiority I feel when I know something few others do—yeah, I’m that kind of person too) In grammar facts, please include the origins of idioms, punctuation, and all matter of language, including foreign and linguistic matters.
  •  Books I can get absolutely lost in—Okay, this one is cheating. I love this, not like this. Unfortunately it happens less and less these days. I can like a book, but not get so caught up in it that I’m living it. Those are the gems, the ones that make it hard to remember or care about reality. Mostly I just read books I enjoy.

What about you? What odd little things help color in the nuances of your existence?




Books I’m reading now:

The Merchant of Venice

The Mark of the Tala by Jeffe Kennedy

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