In cleaning out and organizing some of my supplies (and a whole lot of stuff I'm not sure why I even have), I came across my little baggy of vintage mother-of-pearl buttons. I knew they had to be somewhere, and I would just stumble upon them sooner or later. As you may already know, I love sea shells, so I love these buttons. I sat down on my sofa and started dividing them by type and size, excited when I found two or more that matched.
I practically laughed out loud when I remembered how I originally took possession of the buttons. My parents were still living in Long Beach. (They're still with us, just living in GA now -- this isn't a sad story!) Anyway, my Dad was in the back house and I went back to chat when I spotted a whole lot of buttons amongst all the many antique and art pieces he had back there. I instantly grabbed the container of buttons, plopped down on the floor, and started picking out the shell ones. My Dad notices and says, "What are you doing with my buttons, DiDi?" (That's what he calls me.) But he wasn't just curious, he sounded worried that I was actually going to take his buttons, which I was; he didn't know that for sure yet though. Now, what was my Father going to do with a bunch of buttons? I knew, precisely -- he was going to forget about them or sell them, take your pick. I, on the other hand, would put them to good use in some creative project, even if it wasn't until years later.
My sister, Jennifer, and I can laugh until we literally have tears streaming down our faces when we recollect the inside jokes about our Dad! (Sorry, Dad.) I could go into detail about "Poor Dad" or "Clowns, Jokers, Mickey Mouse," but y'all just would not understand, so I guess you'll have to take my word for it.