OCD

marbles brick 9

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve been falsely accused of fixating on things and then collecting them.  My adult children are stone cold meanies every time the subject comes up.  They forget that I’m the one who made them hot chocolate and Mickey Mouse pancakes.  It was me who kissed their boo-boos and foreheads goodnight.  Admittedly, my antique marble collection did get a little out of hand, but they are so shiny and pretty and I needed to build up my positive feedbacks on ebay.   These orbs were traded in the school yards  of yesteryear.   So what if I have two tackle boxes that weigh about 75 pounds each and several multi-level displays.  They are my marbles and no one is getting my aces, bloodies, or ringers.

Once I gave in to having a single compulsive collection, the kids had a field day accusing me of other hidden collections that only they know about because I keep them in drawers, away from my husband.

My motto:   He is on a need to know basis, and he doesn’t need to know.

Playing cards is one of my favorite things to do so collecting every vintage Ace of Spade card is only natural.   One time, in band camp on ebay, I ran across old canceled stock certificates from the Pennsylvania Rail Road, B & O Railroad and other Monoply properties and was captivated by the fine artwork that old certificates had.  Now my collection is about 150 certificates, all alphabetized and they proudly represent Americana.

 

Hey, that’s 150 positive feedbacks.  Cha-ching.

Then there’s the vintage food crate labels for oranges, apples, blueberries and other fruit and vegetables.  I had the idea once to wallpaper an entire room with them and so started my massive collection.  Now I just flip through them and admire the colors, subjects, and simplicity that represents a time, long ago.  Don’t get me started on Smoky the Bear. 

My collecting has morphed into NOT having to actually have the physical thing I adore, but a picture of the thing that attracts me.  This week I’m spending time on the Internet collecting historical Michigan logging photos and pictures of woodpeckers in a folder.  Woodpeckers are my favorite bird.  I saw my first pileated woodpecker this year and almost pooped my pants.

 

 

The bottom line that I tell my children antagonists is,

“You should hope to grow up like me. 

I go exploring every day!”

 

 

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