There really are many things I don't know. I don't mean obvious things, like cold fusion, and string theory, and why train crossing gates only drop down when I'm in a hurry. I mean other things...things I'm sure other people know, but I just don't.
Here's my first example...Did you know you get to pick what's on the other end of your silverware? I know, right? I was amazed the first time I was exposed to the myriad choices at a Farberware outlet (of course, I first had to overcome my disbelief that such a place even existed. There were scrolled patterns, filigreed patterns, something called "Doric," which I thought was reserved only for columns on the façades of government buildings. Then, if you pick a plain "flat" end (not the correct name, but I have no idea what to call it), you can get it monogrammed, or not. Really? Can I get a question mark furrowed into each piece of flatware? That's much more fitting for me as far as this particular process is concerned. Years after my trip to that outlet, I was sitting there in Bed, Bath, and Beyond looking at the sea of flatware patterns available to me when it dawned on me that my parents must have done the same thing I was doing, staring down flatware options. And they...chose...poorly. Skinny handle with what might be a piece of wheat, maybe, etched into the handle near its end and again at the head close to the bulge of the spoon or tines of the fork. My dad let that happen? Then a new thought crept over me; Dad didn't care...he'd have gone with plastic flatware. He was ready to move on from whatever registering he and Mom were doing at the moment they got to flatware. See, different; Mom was probably ready for the next item on the list and Dad was anxious to get on the roof of the parsonage where they were going to be living to check for leaks, or just to count shingles, at that point. But, let's get back on track, shall we? I don't now why candy corn is a thing. Seriously, it has a consistency not far from that of an off-brand crayon and a taste...I'm not sure what the taste is...but neither candy nor corn seem to share characteristics with this infernal confection. Yet, each year when somebody pours a bunch of this stuff into a shallow dish on a coffee table, I take a handful and shove it in my mouth and immediately chastize myself for doing the same thing I did last year as whatever I've just eaten dissolves into a puddle of dissapointment in my mouth.
I don't know why I ever hear anyone say, "I didn't eat ANYTHING for lunch today." Really? Couldn't find anything, maybe? It were you taken hostage by Al Quaeda from eleven to one-thirty? I've been so busy at work that I've suddenly realized I missed lunch, but I don't then announce that to those in my general vicinity. You ask me (and, by reading this, you have - in essence - asked me), the announcement that one failed to eat says far more about the speaker's intelligence than their dietary conventions.
I have no idea why I walk differently when I'm trying on shoes than at any other time in my life. It's not a model-on-the-runway kind of walk, either. It's walk like I could break into a canter at any moment...I won't, because I'm cool like that...but I could. Then, a day or so later, your feet hurt. Why? Because you aren't doing the "shoe-shopping-walk" all the live long day...because it's exhausting.
There are, of course, thousands of things about which I know nothing, but I wanted to detail just a few, and I have. The wagon's unloaded and rolling on r
From here? I hope you and yours keep reading and keep smiling!
