Why I'm Glad I Blog--a story told through spoons

I have a spoon collection. Strange, but kind of interesting. When I was 7 my family moved to Germany for three years. My parents figured that instead of having each of their five children begging for this, that, or the other at every single gift shop we entered while traveling during those three years, that they would allow us each to have one thing that we collected as a souvenir. So each gift shop we passed through we were allowed to pick out a postcard that we were supposed to write on and keep as our journal of the experience and one of our souvenir of choice.

It's been like 15 years since we got back from Germany, so my spoons have been looking a bit tarnished--in other words: completely black.

My sweet Jeremy decided he was going to polish them for me, and got started on the job one day while I was away. He got about halfway through my collection.

And I thought: I should do a blog post about my spoons.

I can tell my friends all about my spoon collection. I can tell them how my dad and older brother and sister worked together in the basement to construct a spoon rack for me. How it looks like a spoon and has "Europe" inscribed in it. I can tell them how I filled it up, but that's ok because by handyman dad made me a second rack to hang underneath the big spoon, and I remember him picking out the right stain color to match the original.

I can show my friends the different types of spoons I have, like ones with famous buildings, churches, or castles on them.

The ones with flags and crests on them.

The ones with towns and cities on them.

The ones with other interesting objects "of note" on them.

I can tell them what my favorite ones were when I was a little girl. This crown with a "ruby" in it that my parents brought me from England.

The Eiffel tower.

The little Bier Stein.

The classic "Euro Disney" one which you would now be unable to find since the name was officially changed to "Disneyland Paris."

Then there's my favorite spoon of all time. The little cuckoo clock from the Swartzwald. With it's little cuckoo bird on top. Its swing-able pendulum, and little pine cone weights that you can actually pull up and down!

But. . . I didn't write the post. I was doing other things and hadn't gotten around to it.

"Then there was trouble."

Jonas loves to climb up on the table and play with the little spoons. I usually make him get down when I catch him, but the other day I was trying to get something done--you know, have a shower, or brush my hair or something like that--so I let him continue playing with the spoons to give myself a free minute.

Later that evening I was picking all the spoons he had knocked down up off the table and replacing them on the rack. And I found all but one. . .

My favorite little cuckoo clock spoon! (It's his favorite one too of course.)

We looked all over the house for it. We tried to think of where Jonas might take and stash something, but he's barely getting into that stage, so we haven't really noticed his favorite spot yet.

And I cursed myself for not taking the pictures and doing the blog post. Even if the spoon was lost and gone forever, at least I would have captured a little bit of it's essence in my post! I could live with that. But I hadn't.

Then I cursed my lazy unproductive self again.

Later that night. Jeremy had turned on some music, and was trying to put the moves on asking me to slow dance with him in the dining room. But I was distracted.

As we stood there slowly rocking in circles to my favorite stake dance song of all time, I suddenly gasped!

I walked over to the booster seat that has a quarter-sized hole in the arm where the tray pops on to it. I shook the seat. . . and out slid the little cuckoo clock spoon!

The world was right again. I was ready to turn over my attentions to my sweet husband for the rest of the night . And I vowed to write this post!