For years as a child and then a teenager I looked for something to collect. The longest run was a collection of souvenir placemats--the ones that look like oversized postcards that have been heavily laminated to endure a generation of spills. And still I enjoy picking up a stray picture placemat if a place I visit carries them. But like many souvenir collectibles, when they went out of vogue, they became difficult if not impossible to find while travelling. Sometime during or after college it dawned on me that rather than me picking a collectible, a series of collectibles had found me.

For years I have picked up stray facts: The average yearly rainfall in Seatle is within half an inch of that in Kansas City. Every one of the 50 United States has experienced tornadoes. Abraham Lincoln accepted his nomination to the Illinois senate in his living room (which was not, by the way, built with his own two hands).Shakespeare may have been Christopher Marlowe (but I think probably not). How to say "hedgehog" in Russian and "brown noser" in Tagalog. That after discovering that learning can make dendrites (the branched recepticles on nerve endings) grow when stimulated regularly, scientists realized that part of the key to Einstein's genius was the way he continued to exercise his brain well into old age. And on it goes.

Eight and a half years of library work merely encouraged this collection, and 16 moves over the past 11 years has made the collection of material goods awkward at best. The result: since fact is indeed more incredible than fiction I can generally make good small talk at parties and even break that 7 second silence that occurs on average of every 7 minutes in a group of 7 individuals with an appropriate (or completely random) fact.

Actually, fact collecting is a lot of fun. Every once in a while I will have to research just a bit to make sure the facts are still current, and occassionally after all is said I discover that I was wrong about one thing or another. The mind exercise, however, is healthy; and how many other folks to you know that can spout dictionary definitions for "boondoggle," "cagmag," and "lymosis"?

Fact collecting is a lot of fun. Why not try it? You'll learn something!

   

I just answered this Featured Question, you can answer it too!

In a week and a half I meet that milestone known as 35 years old. Most people wouldn't consider this to be significant, but for me this is an age I have been contemplating for a long time. I decided about 10 years ago (or perhaps I just began thinking about deciding) that if I had not carried a child to term by the time I turned 35, I would have my uterus removed. Four days ago it dawned on me that this birthday was but two weeks away. And this comes after two months in which my monthly cramps have been decidedly worse than my usual not-fun-at-all.

I came home from work on the day this occurred to me and called my favorite aunt, who was unable to have children, to talk about my proposed plan. She fully agreed that with the family history I have on both mother and father's side, I should have the operation. She told me more about her feminine problems and those her own mother (my grandmother had). It boils down to the fact that no woman in my family has made it to age 35 without having multiple miscarriages and/or a medically necessary hysterectimy.

On Sunday my mom came up for the holiday, and I was not going to mention this to her at all, but I was so nervous that I finally called and blurted it out to her on the cell phone about half an hour before she arrived. She also was completely positive about the procedure, with the one concern that complications from the surgery could result in some lost time at work (truthfully a pretty low risk though).

So today I find myself in the peculiar position of having no good reason not to procede with plans I made years ago and yet not wanting to follow through with them because of the tiny, tiny hope that I might some day be able to carry my own baby (despite the added complication that the very idea of sleeping with a man turns my stomach). It just doesn't make sense that I am so sad, so reticent to visit my doctor and set this ball rolling when the real result will be far less monthly pain for the first time in 25 years. And if I ever get to the place that I am able to emotionally and financially care for my own self, there are plenty of little ones needing families and I could adopt. It's just the issue of this annoying womb of mine. It's given me so much grief being here and active all these years that just pulling it out and throwing it away seems like a waste of agony, seems like something that was supposed to be productive being denied by my choice.

Oh SH*&! I thought this decision would be easier to make. At least there is the possibility of no longer missing work because of abdominal cramps.

The featured question from earlier this week has made a positive impact on me. It seems that I am now paying more attention to those nice "little" things people do for me. So often it's from an unexpected source--perhaps people that I love only because I love who they are but not because I have any expectations of receiving anything from them.

In all, the past couple of weeks have been absolutely horrid for me personally. My health has been rather poor, work hasn't been going well for over a month now, and . . . well--you get the picture. The first unexpected pick-me-up came Thursday night when I picked up the phone to hear my youngest niece on the phone: "Happy Mother's Day! Happy Mother's Day! Happy Mother's Day, Aunt Ree! Happy Mother's Day!" No one has ever called to tell me happy Mother's Day before, but our little Summer Sue was as sincere and enthusiastic as anyone could possibly be, right up to the point when her mom caught her on the phone (after about 5 minutes of excited 2-year-old chatter) and told her it was time to give Mommy the phone. "Bye-bye, Aunt Ree. I love you!" Who could continue having a bad day after a call like that?

The second pick-me-up came Friday afternoon at work, while I was yet again working my hardest and still not meeting the satisfaction of our insatiable assistant manager, who had pointed me out in the morning meeting for not getting all of the ink skus out yet. I told him I would be happy to work on getting the skus out but that it would require a complete wall reset since there were several new skus to be incorporated. I told him that I'd try to get it done, if there was time. He said, in front of everyone, "Well, get it done." I politely responded, "Yes, I'll do my best." He said once again, "Well, you have to get it done." I just nodded. Then late in the afternoon, when I was still working on the project (clearly not close to having it done by the end of my shift), a coworker who had been in the meeting came up and told me that he had almost spoken up for me in the meeting and that he could not believe how unreasonable the manager was being. My relief at hearing this from a coworker was so great that I nearly burst out in tears. He could have handed me the world on a platter and it wouldn't have meant more to me than merely pointing out that I really was doing the best I could given the situation.

So whether it is a toddler snitching Mommy's phone to call and wish a happy Mother's Day to someone, or a coworker sticking up for another worker who is being overburdened, or some other unexpected kindness: May you all find the grace of "nice things" done for you often. And then pay it forward. You never know how powerful even the smallest kind word can be. I know they have been lifesavers for me this week.