Day #585 Uncommon Sense

8/29 UnCommon Sense

In 1986 I bought a book. I read it and underlined a lot of passages. The book was a series of common sense essays. When I moved from Vermont to Georgia in 1993, I packed the book away in a box.

I did finally unpack it (probably in about 1997 or 8), stuck it on a bookcase, and pretty much forgot about it.

Kim Williams’ Book of Uncommon Sense: A Practical Guide With 10 Rules for Nearly Everything sat there for a while, got put into another box seven -- almost eight -- years ago when I moved to this house, and has lived on yet another bookshelf for quite a while.

What on earth must Ms. Williams think of me for ignoring her such a long time? And what a lot I’ve missed. The book appears to be out-of-print now, which is a real shame.

It’s been interesting to review the things I underlined all those years ago:

• In one essay, next to the phrase “eat a turnip,” I wrote, “Yuck.” Now, why would I write that? To the best of my knowledge, I’ve never eaten a turnip.
• In another, an essay about the fun and practicality of pot luck dinners, she wrote that the best invitation is “I have the spot. You bring the pot” -- even if it’s for a wedding reception.
• “Eating bean sprouts will not save your soul.”
• And - one of my favorites -- “I will not fall into the toothpaste trap. I will write down how much money I spend on toothpaste in a year; then I will spend it on something else.” -- I vote for this one because my teeth have done quite well for years on a "tooth-cleaner" mixture of salt and baking soda.
• Another little gem - talking about a mountain spring that had a frog living in it -- “Funny that we never thought to question the right of that frog to live in our drinking water.”

I’d like to keep a little uncommon sense in my life.

If I’m missing any, I’d like Ms. Williams to help me usher it back in. 

Just wish she were around to bring me a turnip.

BEEattitude for Day #585:

       Blessed are those who provide water for us bees in the summertime, for they shall have the joy of watching us drink and flap our little wings.