Collector's Item

This weekend has been a whirlwind of splendor. There was kicking butt in jeopardy, cheating in a scavenger hunt, and some Olympic record breaking. The best, however, had to be going to Martha's Vineyard with friends from the Bo', sitting on the beach, sun shining down on us, and comparing stories of nasties we collected as "children."

Darling Karina, a true and diligent oddball, painstakingly collected dust into a little box because it felt "soft" and "fluffy." She would wait until dust settled on her room then carefully wipe it up with her finger so she could deposit it in her special box.

Unfortunately, I could top her story. Easy. Dust may have been unsanitary, but not a hotbed for germ and disease. I collected band aids. It was a carefully curated exhibit taped onto a piece of paper with a neat date next to each one. I marveled at how different they all were. Until Father made me throw it away.

Sadly for all of humankind, however, my story was not the grossest collection of the day. Jenny claimed she could do me worse. We were all pretty incredulous at first. But by golly, she was right. She won by at least 5K. Jenny collected warts. Warts that had once been on the bottom of her feet and removed by liquid nitrogen. It was apparently quite a collection, all neatly stored in a Ziploc bag in her nigh stand. Not only that, Jenny was also the last to part with her collection, keeping it well into her teens. Sometimes, I wonder why I don't have more friends. And why I get such weird friends when they end up with such a good catch as myself. I guess we'll have to ask God when we see Him.