Because I keep them in a small wooden bowl on my bedside table. Seriously.
This stone marble collection is one of my favorite things. I found them in Knoxville, Tennessee a couple of years ago when my mother-in-law and I were browsing an antique shop. Supposedly they were made by Native Americans in the area and found in the Tennessee River (or maybe the Little Pigeon River? I can’t remember.). They were in a breadbox-sized container at the antique shop, which makes me a little skeptical about their real history, but regardless of their age, I think they are pretty cool. I bought them that day and when I took them back to my in-laws’ house, my father-in-law (who my sister wrote about, here) made me the little wooden bowl that I now keep them in, because that’s how he rolls: he sees a need and fills it. The marble-and-bowl combo make me incredibly happy, and I enjoy talking about them in relation to my sanity (as in the title of this post). It’s nice to know that my marbles are always present and accounted for.