Jeremy has started calling me a magpie. I don't blame him. I'm often picking up forgotten tent pegs, smashed pennies and at least looking at what sort of trash is poking out of the ground. He doesn't mind. It means I'm also good at spying rubber boas and pretty green beetles.
Then, the other night I started talking about how as a kid we would find all sorts of stuff behind our house (our backyard butted up against a marsh where people often dumped junk). There was an old couch, a TV, a newspaper stand, a pile of shingles and a myriad of tires not to mention smaller treasures. One summer we even found a bathroom sink and I got such a kick out of saying you could find anything back there, even a kitchen sink. I decided I might have discovered some of the foundation of my magpie tendencies.
Then, to exacerbate my magpie tendencies I went into Archaeology where they literally train you to walk around and pick up random things (sometimes trash). Is it any wonder I'm a magpie?
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