Trash Inspector-

I should label my blog, "The weird parts of me". As it is, I will stand by my title "Compost of the Mouth" since I always only have a little to say about everything.

Man! I just dropped an oat into my keyboard. Now I'm going to need a keyboard cat to eat all the mice.

Does trash fascinate anyone else out there? I recently was asking Charles about something in the trash can- I believe it was a ziploc bag and he was like "Why are you policing the trash?" I have no idea. However, I do know it may be in my genes.

Speaking of jeans, I cut up a pair of jeans into squares last year, thinking I'd sew them into a jean quilt and have instead made fancy animals out of the squares. They're actually pretty cute with the denim. Woot. When you combine other materials with the denim, the sewing machine is still able to get through it all without too much trouble. In case you were wondering.

My friend Chelsea who bought a fancy animal for her son Windham, just told me he knows what a whale is, and what a penguin is, but he insists on calling his penguin a whale. I don't know why, but I get a kick out of that. Perhaps he thinks the penguin is too fancy to be just called a penguin. I don't blame him.

Back to trash. My mother has been known to find things we've hidden in the trash, and my father is notorious for pulling out food scraps and putting them into the compost or chicken feed pile. You know, since peeling potatoes is messy, we'd peel into the trash. When we finished, he would tell us we should have done it into the sink, etc.

So now I look in the trash when I throw things away. Sorry Charlie. As for policing, I have blogged before that I often wonder what's in the black trash bags on the side of roads and highways. If they were just full of trash, wouldn't they be in a landfill? That's my line of reasoning. Since they're not, they must either be forgotten treasures or bodies. I have not yet had the courage to investigate.

Onto my love of containers. I don't know why, but I also have an explainable love to containers. I don't even know what to put in the containers, but any containers I find, I want to keep and find uses for them. It must stem from the dismay I feel when I see good things going to waste. Like one time use Ziploc bags. Or perhaps when I find things that need containers, I mourn the containers I have not kept track of. Anyway, I might start giving you gifts in old vitamin bottles and pretzel containers. You're welcome.