littles

There was a Sunday last summer, or perhaps the summer before, when I was at the SOWA market.  In one of the many stalls displaying handmade goods, I was thinking that I had no use for the little pieces of pottery that I was admiring.  Absolutely no use at all. But I wanted them none the less. I was not conflicted, I was only candid. After all, there was not a great deal of money involved, a veritable pittance when one took into consideration their charm

I love the little foot on this one:

And I was correct. I have absolutely no practical use for them. I buy so many littles, that I have run out of jobs for them.

I already have one for my ring:

(My parents brought this back for me from one of their trips out West)

One for my pearls:

One for my daily spritz:

(a dainty little dish from Monticello)

One for my mad money:

(a handmade gift from my offspring)

one for my lotion

(another handmade gift)

What to do? The search is on for a way to use these little treasures. I want to see them, I want them to be part of my day..

They obviously won’t do as a fruit bowl

too small to hold our ever expanding collection of beach rocks

not quite large enough for a serving size of 23 almonds

But then an idea struck me, and it was only because I undertook this consternation at the beginning of the day that an answer presented itself.

I will use one for my pills. It may sound a rather pedestrian use for such a pretty little vessel but isnt that rather the point of pretties? I have to take my medicine every morning an hour before I get up and since we are early risers here in Woodcock Pocket an hour earlier than early is early indeed. When it suits me, the pre-dawn rattling of a pill bottle is a handy passive-aggressive way to express any marital displeasure but usually I try to be quiet as a mouse so as not to disturb Mr Bebe in his last hour of sleep. The littlest little is the perfect answer, really. Its decorative knobs of slip (glaze) will keep the pills from sliding away from groggy fingers searching in the dark. The bowl is noiseless, and will be the last thing I see at night and the first thing I see in the morning.

Any suggestions for the other two? Don’t tell me to wait until I require multiple prescriptions

I love littles. I don’t understand why, but I do.  Little objects of indiscernible purpose make me happy. Is this unusual? I am an inveterate collector of beach rocks, I have a couple of small crystals hanging in windows, I have all of my grandmothers buttons from her sewing box, miniature bows for miniature boxes for miniature gifts…it goes on.