Meet the Rockers

Sometimes quirkiness is only identified through other's eyes. Last night I was in a cleaning frenzy and was organizing my bookshelf when my roommate came in. She noticed I was labelling rocks with masking tape. This is apparently not a normal thing, but I like to collect small rocks and/or shells as mementos of memorable trips and memorable friendships. I wanted to label them so as to not forget where and when I got it.
Suzy had the task of telling me, much to my shock, that most people don't collect rocks in the first place, much less label them as if they were part of an insect collection.
That's when I realized it's genetic. My whole family collects rocks like squirrels do acorns. When my grandparents moved out of their house in Great Falls, my father carted six hundred (600!) pounds of rocks out with them. These rocks were taken and deposited with the several hundreds of pounds my father has, so by the time I inherit the mountain I may be able to build a house with just the little stones we've picked up along the way. At least build a rather nice wall, or pan for gold in my own garage.
I have a rock my little sister gave me when she was 6 that she labeled malachite and had painted it as such. Tell me, what normal six-year old likes to identify minerals so much that she'd take an ordinary sandstone and paint it to look like malachite? 'xactly. I like my rocks, and I like that I have memories tied to so many of them. They are better than pictures in a way.
Anyway, that's all I got.