Tchotchke

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I have a collection of these cans stocked full of diesel, because sometimes it’s not available where I live in West Africa, like right now.  They are not cute.  They’re greasy, because I usually spill diesel down the can, unless I’m cleverly siphoning it.  They’re rusty, and my kittens liked to use them before they were litter trained.  These are not cute cans.  I don’t like to look at them, much less touch them, any more than I have to.

Imagine my surprise and delight when I found this tiny treasureTsch
at my church garage sale.  A cute little ceramic jerrican, for only 25 cents!  A veritable tchotchke, as I like to call knicknacks, being a linguist who’s watched too many home decorating shows lately.

Yes, I am indeed going to use up some of my precious and ever shrinking luggage allowance to haul this thing back to Africa with me in a couple of months.  Such a deal!

Published by Nora McNamara

Lover of languages and linguistics. Besotted Auntie. Jesus follower. Sacred Harp singer.

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