Young Tomato Plants with Patron

 

This is a poor excuse for a horticultural picture, especially compared to a couple other blogs I visit, but I like my tomato plants, so here you go. The good Saint Francis asked if I would crop him out of the photo but I didn't.

Refrigerator Magnets.

On the side of my refrigerator are no less than twenty promotional magnets, only one or two of which serves any present purpose. They may have served some purpose in the past, even if a minor one, but no one seems to think that a purposeless refrigerator magnet should be discarded, including me. Actually, I think I'm the one that makes sure they don't get thrown out. Well, at least that's true for six of them, anyway.

They are the six large Texas Rangers baseball-schedule magnets, starting with year 1997, each received on opening day of a baseball season. Those magnets represent about 20 years of going to Rangers games with my wife and children, and as they say, "them were good times."

Also, not to be discarded is a magnet with a family picture of an old and close friend. He's a missionary and it's a way for him to ask for prayer and other support when we can.

But I have magnets for several people no longer in business, an insurance agent and a plumber. I have a magnet for important Verizon telephone numbers. I don't have any Verizon accounts, though.  I have a magnet to remind me to buy my printer toner from a place called Inksell. I don't know if I have ever done it. I have a magnet from the Dallas Morning News, a newspaper to which I no longer subscribe -- as of at least ten years ago. A "Trains Galore" magnet. I have no idea what that is. And one for the Trinity Railway Express. You get the idea.

They're not really hurting anything but I wonder if a stranger walking into the house thinks, "why do they have so many magnets on the side of the refrigerator?"

To which I have no answer. Maybe you do.

Throwing Things Out.

I was looking for a pair of black socks this morning. I found two that seemed to match and noticed one had a hole in the heel. I threw it back into the sock pile and fished out another. Same thing, but the hole was in the ankle area. I threw it back in. I could have tossed them both in the trash but I didn't. You never know when you need an old sock with a hole in it.

I have pens that don't work. I know they don't work and will never work.

Keys? Dozens that have no keyhole that I know of.  I have shirts that I haven't worn in years. I have had shirts in my closet so un-used that a  film of dust gathered on the shoulder.

I know what you're thinking -- that I have a "hoarding" problem. I don't. I watched an episode of one of those hoarder reality shows and they take pack-ratting to a level I can't understand. I have my clean-out binges where I am merciless. Honest. I did watch one show where the lady was keeping empty bottles of shampoo on the ledge of her bathtub. Dozens of plastic bottles -- empty, just sitting there. And then she started crying when the guy told her she had to throw them out. It was all a little too weird for me.

Part of the problem is that the homo sapien is a collector by nature. I'll bet you collect something even if it is in a casual kind of way. Stamps, coins, books, beer bottles, anything with a dolphin on it. Something. You name it in this material world and somebody is collecting it. People just love to collect stuff.

The truth is, I don't mind throwing things out. Except shoes. I hate to throw out old shoes. They're like old friends, you just like them for all kinds of unknown reasons.

Now . . . socks should be another thing. But my throw-backs are still there, and probably will be for a long time.

(comments on anything you keep, but shouldn't, gladly accepted)