cleanout

Cinco Centavos

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Okay, one of the interesting things I've refound amongst my stuff has to be the 1959 Mexican five cent coin in the pen cup this morning. I used to have a large number of old(-ish) coins when I was younger, high school era. I don't know what happened to most of them. They might be in my foreign-coins jar, which is packed away in a box in the garage at the moment. I remember having this coin, but really have no idea how it ended up in the pen cup. It's one of my favorite coins, though. I might need to start carrying it around next to the loonie that I carry with me everywhere, the one that Jonathan gave me a couple years ago.

Front side of the centavos:

Centavos

Back side of the centavos:

Centavos

And with scale (go, Troggie!):

Troggie and cinco centavos

Excitement on a Sunday morning

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Yeah, that's right, an exciting Sunday morning includes going through pens and discarding the ones that don't work any longer.

Pen markings

Asking the right questions

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Six years ago, my mother's husband's sister died. Really, though, it's easier to just say, "An aunt of mine died."

An aunt of mine died. There. I said it that way.

She died.

One of the things that annoyed me most about her death, I mean, aside from the whole death thing itself, was the callous nature of the dissemination of her death. Look, I understand that her death was "unnatural," and I understand that sugar coating what happened doesn't change what happened, but it's still hard when a loved one passes away and people are callous about the whole thing.

(Wow, my site is all about death recently. Maybe a "Kitt, better to embrace life going forward than mourn its loss looking backward" is in order.)