Matt’s been wanting garden gnomes for a while; I think it’s because he feels a kinship with them. I nixed buying shiny new gnomes—that just doesn’t seem right to me—so we’ve been stuck with a hideous OU gnome that he won at a white elephant gift exchange. (Mind you, we are not sports fans.) The gnomes would find us, I said. And this morning, the gnome magic was with us as we spontaneously visited an estate sale on our way home from breakfast.