They're Everywhere

I can hear you thinking, "What's she talking about? Zombies? Spies?" No. Not right now, at any rate. I'm talking about whatever you've recently bought, seriously browsed for or even read about. I'm sure you've experienced buying a car, whether new or new to you, and suddenly the roads are packed with the same model. Sometimes in the same color. This used to surprise me because I don't take that much notice of cars unless it's a very unusual design or huge. Or something I actually remember from my younger days, although if I'm remembering correctly there were only ten or twelve styles back then, so recognizing one isn't a great feat. It no longer surprises me but I think it's fun to keep track of how often I see "my" car. For years I had a blue Toyota RAV-4, the older style with the spare tire on the back. It may be my skewed perspective, but I would swear there were more blue ones than any other color. Silver came in second. Anyway, I lost track of how often I would come out of a store to find a second blue RAV-4 parked next to mine. One day, there were three of them. Sadly, it was before I had a camera on my phone. It happens with fashion, again, if I'm paying attention. If, in my opinion, it's unusually unattractive or unflattering, it seems to jump out at me. Suddenly every third person I pass is wearing that item. For some reason I rarely see this with clothing I find especially attractive. Maybe I'm too fussy. This whole thing came to mind because I just finished reading a novel set in Paris. The picture book, Madeline, by Ludwig Bemelmans, is part of the story. It had been decades since I'd read it with my girls, so when I was in the library, I took a few minutes to read it again. If you don't remember, it takes place in Paris. I had a little time so I randomly grabbed a bunch of other picture books. I'm always on the look-out for good books for my grandson. Out of the nine books I read that afternoon, four of them took place in Paris. That's odd. Charming, but odd. I'm not sure what to make of this phenomenon. I imagine I could read dozens more picture books and never find mention of Paris again. On the other hand, maybe it means something. Maybe I'm supposed to go to Paris. Wait until I tell my husband!