I am foremost a private person. Who is really thinking that I am definitely desperate enough at this point in my life to make my thoughts public. WTF
I am a 64 year old woman. I am divorced. I live alone. I live in Bellingham, Washington. I have dogs. I love dogs, I foster dogs. I rescue dogs.
I am an underachiever in a circle of overachievers. I have done many things in life but am most proud of having survived 64 years.
I am not a writer so I apologize in advance for my poor punctuation and grammar. I kinda skipped the years in school where I might have had those details imbedded in my young brain. I am always open to an editor… or a mother or an Alice (The Brady Bunch).
Normal, boy that sure is a moving target nowadays, isn’t it? If we had been sitting around the Christmas-dinner-table, last year, discussing what normal would in seven months, there is not a soul who could have predicted we would be standing outside Trader Joe’s; six feet apart, mask on, waiting to take a disinfected cart inside an essentially empty store.
How about the idea the Idiot-in-Chief deciding a world wide pandemic doesn’t really matter! Send the kids back to school, open the economy because to date, only 130,000 people in this country have died of COVID-19.
Oh well, I never really liked normal. After all, I wasn’t sitting around a Christmas-dinner-table on 12/25/2019, I was at a slot machine smoking and drinking an adult beverage or six. It was an untraditional Christmas, as I am an untraditional woman but… do I really want to test my limits? I guess I have no choice. We are all being tested and only I live and breathe in my weirdness. Only a can decide how to process this time of life. Shit! I want someone to blame.
So, would I rather have had a different experience in this time? Yes, ideally I would be in the throughs of a passionate love affair, celebrating the final chapters of my life. That’s really what I would have liked to manifest. I had a taste and lost it. Not the right person, but for a moment it was sweet and full of potential. Shit! I want someone to blame.
So, I was really down and out for about a month! I was very sad and discouraged, not much I was willing to engage with or in doing. All I did was smoke cigarettes and not eat much, not sleep much and not do much. My every-other-day ritual was go buy cigarettes from the AM/PM. Seriously, the guy behind the counter was my only consistent contact and I reveled in the fact he would have my cigarettes rung up by the time I reached the plexiglass enclosed pay counter. I was upset that I had to quit smoking because I was having a little surgery and refused to quit until the last minute. I wanted to smoke and be sad and not have surgery. Shit! I wanted someone to blame.
OK, so life is forever going to be different, I get it. We will be wearing masks for a very long time to come, maybe forever! I guess I should embrace the mask and get on with it. I do! I just emotionally want it to be 12/25/2019 and we are all making choices based on Existentialism (which is the course I am taking online) which I believe I should define:
a philosophical theory or approach which emphasizes the existence of the individual person as a free and responsible agent determining their own development through acts of the will.
There is no point to this post. Just more venting and some more self realization. Nothing important in the big picture. Just one soul reaching a point of understanding something new and wanting to share it.
I am back, feeling better emotionally and physically. What everyone needs in an emotional breakdown, during a time political upheaval, alone in isolation, living in a batshit crazy country, in a worldwide pandemic is; a health scare. Yep, just the sprinkles on top of a dog shit cupcake to celebrate the first half of 2020!
So, the things on my mind today are; wear a mask, say something kind to front line workers, vote in November (if we are going to have four more years of the Cheeto – in – Chief, let it be because someone wanted his crazy ass and not that we are just too apathetic and lazy to vote) and… (drum roll) learning something new. That’s it, that all I got, except I am excited about the learning something new idea.
A friend suggested I take an online course given by Princeton University, HOPE: Human Odyssey to Political Existentialism! Sounds boring, right? Not! It is fascinating.
First, Princeton University is offering a free course; I am interested just because I can say “Princeton University and I am taking a course” in the same sentence.
Second, HOPE! I need, I want hope. Give me hope! Might there be some hope in a course of that name?
Third, I just need to know WTF “political existentialism “ means.
The course description is…
The tenets, thinkers, and concepts of existentialism
What distinguishes humans from animals and machines
The meanings of identity and authenticity and how they impact politics
The nexus between liberty, freedom, bad faith, and reflection
Types of happiness and the point of pursuing it—privately and publicly
The importance of death and dread in our lives
How people seek meaning and legitimacy through truth, morality, and religion
The interplay of love and alienation, and the use of both in politics
What, and how much, we may hope for
Sounds rather erudite, right? Not really and yes it is. What’s the point of all of this? Life, the things we believe life is about. It’s all hevel, or smoke or vapor or meaninglessness. It’s the community of actually thinking about existentialism, of being a human. It’s drawing on the Ecclesiastical approach to life as well as other philosophers and philosophies maybe not so pious. I will take it as a win that I am even open to any type of religious learning… having had it shoved down my throat… there I go again. Let’s just say, I am taking this course with an open mind.
I have been writing some, not posting anything for awhile because my thoughts are dark and dreary like the world. Like the Country. Like life. I decided to write today and wherever this goes I am going to post. So… hang on folks, keep your hands and feet in the ride!
My puppies are gone. All adopted and starting to heal from their piranha like teeth and claws. I am getting that old lady bruising thing going on with my arms… I remember that my grandma had bruise spots on her skin, and I knew she was old! Yet anothething that is happening in my 65 year that I am unhappy about. Puppies all new and fresh, their lives in front of them and me… bruising when someone gives me a dirty look.
Dating, in Covid times is crazy. Online dating in 2020 is batshit crazy. Last week I had a date with a mortician… who on the date got a call to go pickup a dead body! Luckily he brought the body wagon as his vehicle. I couldn’t make this up! No, he is not a contender, he was a liar, liar pants on fire about some things, and nobody with a lick of sense will start a relationship with a bunch of stupid lies. Was a bit disappointed I didn’t get to see his crematorium, that is some serious “Six Feet Under” stuff! Then I tried Tinder! No, to the weird ass, hell no! Actually I think I found the mortician on Tinder. Go figure!
I am lonely and going crazy watching the news! How the hell did we get here? Of course Europe is going to close their borders from us; we are that, bat shit crazy cousin that comes to the door and you pretend you are not home! Nobody here! Just ignore all the cars in the driveway and it is Thanksgiving! I wouldn’t want us to bring our crazy cooties! I have even thought about going to Seattle and flying to Vancouver, BC so I can see my Canadian friends, except I would need to quarantine for 14 days without seeing her! Really! I get it, Canada doesn’t their crazy neighbor visiting either. I never realized how much I love Canada until I talk to my BFF and she tells me people wear masks! No discussion, makes total sense, they don’t want to spread the virus and they wear masks! Wow, a country with a population of sane people who are not refusing to wear masks because of whatever pitifully lame excuse our American idiots are using at the moment!
I am hoping that Darwin’s evolutionary principles might end this pandemic on fast forward. If we have a population that assembles for political rallies, not observing social distancing or wearing masks they will get sick and… cleanse the gene pool. I know, they will spread it to their poor innocent non idiots friends, family and front line workers! Let me have a shred of a dream. I can fantasize.
I decided to have that surgery where they dig around my innards, scheduled for July 7th. but… I am giving myself a little present later in the summer of something to make me feel better about myself. I am having a lobotomy! I won’t care about this shit anymore! Yippee! Maybe I will become a non-mask wearing, Make America Great Again, red hat wearing, racist!
The year was about 1995, I had my house up for sale in Southern California and was moving to Washington. I stopped working for the San Bernardino Country District Attorneys office and took a temporary job for a local newspaper, waiting for my house to sell. I was in charge of a crew of middle school kids that I would pickup after school and and drop off in neighborhoods in the Inland Empire; Rancho Cucamonga, San Dimas, Glendora, Claremont, Upland, those areas that were considered safe. They would be given a map with the drop off marked and the pickup point and time marked. They would go door-to-door selling new subscriptions to the local paper.
I know, WTF was I doing with someone’s precious babies, dumping them all by theirselves in the middle of a neighborhood that they didn’t know. Times were different, there were no cell phones, no GPS, just a handy Thomas Guide and photocopied pages from. It for them to use. I knew the risks they faced that they were too young to understand, but their parents all had signed permission contracts and I was constantly cruising the neighborhood keeping my eyes open for trouble, but the possibilities of what could go wrong were numerous, in hindsight it was madness. It was also the most fun I ever had working a job.
I had a fairly new Ford Aerostar van that the back seats had been removed from and the kids would sit on the floor in the back. The kid that had the highest sales from the day before would sit shotgun and have control of the music when I picked them up from school and the kid that had the highest sales of evening would then get their turn sitting in the passenger seat.
These kids mainly came from poor families that needed them to make money for the family, or from families that apparently didn’t much care if they were out until 9:00 at night. They did make money, they made a lot of money too. My kids could make anywhere from $50. To $150. cash every weeknight, plus I always bought them dinner at the end of the night. Hell, this job paid me more money than any other job I had every had as well, I made what the crew made, just not in cash.
So about 3:00 pm would pickup from 2 middle schools, my crew of girls and boys, of every race. I had between eight to ten kids every afternoon. They were always excited to get started and loved the juice and snacks I brought every day, but mainly they wanted to get out there and sell, make some money.
About 8:00 pm, I would start picking up the kids for the night, they would have stacks of new start cards and the $5.00 deposit that was their earnings for every new subscription . We would pile into TacoBell, or the fast food choice of the highest earner of the previous day (it was always Taco Bell) while they ate their dinner, I would do the paperwork and give the kids their stack of $5.00 bills. and announce that nights highest earner. We would all pack back into the van and I would drop them off at their respective houses.
I did this for several months. It was so much fun. These kids were street smart, funny and loved the work. It was totally illegal, even in the day to have all these kids in the back of the van with no seatbelts, but a crew was eight to ten kids and my van only seated seven. I know, madness!
My house hadn’t sold yet, but I decided to move to Washington, so I only had a couple of weeks left with my kids. It was a January afternoon that I pickup up an especially excited group of kids. There were two boys that said they were “totally stoked” about this new game they learned in school. It was “brand new game” and they had to tell me all about it. It was played with dice and called craps.
Let me recap… in the back of my van, without seats; I had nine middle school kids, 2 of the boys teaching a bunch of other kids how to play craps, for money. A bunch of cash on the floor of the van and it was almost 9:00 pm. I have a little red headed boy in the shotgun seat, blasting music. What could go wrong?
Yep, this really happened; in my rear view mirror I see flashing lights… it is the police pulling me over. How did they know? What should I say? How can I control this shit show?
What I hear from the back of the van is a bunch of voices, yelling “oh, you are busted”. I tell the kids “be very quiet, I am going to get out of the car and see what’s up! So that’s what I did. I grabbed my wallet, got out of the van and said “ hello, officer”.
The very handsome, hunky police officer says to me, “ do you know why I pulled you over?” I answer with my knees like jelly, “ I can’t imagine”. He says “I have been following you for a few blocks and have observed you following all the traffic laws, signaling when you turned and coming to a complete stop (no shit Sherlock, damn right I have been obeying the laws, I have a rolling crap game with middle school kids in the back of the van) the Montclair Police Department, is rewarding good drivers like you with a $20. gift certificate to the Olive Garden”.
I couldn’t make this up if I tried! I take my gift certificate, get back in the car and drive away, with a jaunty wave. The kids are throwing questions at me “what happened?” “why did they stop you”? The adrenaline dump has caused my hands to tremble on the car steering wheel. I am shaking visibly with the thoughts of WTF just happened.
I say to the kids, does anyone know the definition of the word irony?
What’s next for us as a Country? 2020 has been a shit show; things we could never imagined are happening and frankly, things we knew would eventually happen are happening as well. In January, some were optimistic of the decade to come… I am sorry to say, I saw part of this coming. I saw black children, black women and mainly black men killed by the police, by vigilantes, in seemingly cold blood. I saw racist extreme groups have a platform to spew their poison, open carrying military style rifles, with no repercussions. I saw the hate directed towards San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick, when he peacefully took a knee during the national anthem. I didn’t see the peaceful demonstrations, turned by thugs into looting and riots. I probably should have seen it coming.
So, what hasn’t been said already, on social media or the news; by pundits and talking heads? I am going to make a personal statement, it is all I can say!
WTF! Can there be no bigger more obvious metaphor for race inequality in this Country than the video of a rogue cop killing George Floyd, literally, with his knee on Mr Floyd’s neck, while other rogue cops look on like they are watching a Saturday morning cartoon. America, my friends, my family, you must see it now. You can’t say “if only he obeyed directions” or “he was resisting”. No, he was murdered, and this is happening over and over again in this country to people of color.
I am taking a personal stand and calling bullshit on “all lives matter”, you are wrong! If you don’t want to hear this shit then unfriendly me, unfollow me or disown me because it is not true in context. We are talking about a crisis of black lives not meaning shit to white people for hundreds of years! Have you never read a book, watched the news, seen the footage of lynchings on TV, observed your neighbors? White folk, my people; we are killing and scaring the shit out of a entire part of our population. It is time to say “Black Lives Matter” and mean it. Of course “all lives matter”, but that my white brethren ( and I use the archaic word because this is some archaic thinking) is beside the point! In context we are speaking about black lives!
Damn, if you point to the riots and looters and say, “see, this is what we mean”, you are wrong again and continue to buy the lie, again… that people of color are different than white folk, let me put in a way you might understand, “here’s your sign”. You are thinking and acting ignorant. What started as a peaceful demonstration of our constitutional rights, was hijacked by anarchists. Time after time, if you watched the news, the peaceful protesters dispersed or took a knee. Don’t blame the protesters, blame the looters. Blame the president, he incited this shit, by calling white supremacists in Charlottesville, “very fine people”. He set the tone for this shit in year one of his administration.
It is not too late my brethren, we can save this shit show! A few bad anything don’t make the whole of us! A few bad cops don’t negate the good cops that put their lives on the line every day so we can live in a civilized society. A few bad criminals, whatever race or color don’t invalidate the good, law abiding; family, friends, neighbors and coworkers we know. We are one nation! One country. Shall we just agree that we have a problem in this country and try to fix it?
We have more issues to deal with in our present and future. We have to find a vaccine for COVID-19, we have to find a solution for climate change and we have to be united to do this. The future of the lives of our children and grandchildren are at stake!
“Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough
I want love. I have loved and been loved in my marriage, then poof, it blew array like the seeds of a dandelion in the wind. I want that feeling again, true love, true knowledge and acceptance. Am I desperate for love? Damn, why do you ask such hard questions my dearest self? Yes and no … yes I want it desperately, no I am not desperate for it.
I am willing to be alone for the rest of my life, if I don’t find it, or am I? This question haunts my dreams. I think about a life of companionship, not passion. I compare it to a life of love and passion. How old do you need to be, to believe you are too old for love? What does old-age love look like? I don’t feel old. Does that mean I am not too old?
Do I wait, in the waining years of my life, for love? Searching for it, rejecting, being rejected? Time is not on my side, I hear the minutes tick off with every beat of my heart. Do I instead settle for a fondness of heart, a friend with benefits, because yes, benefits are important.
I want love. I want to love and be loved; known and desired. I wish and hope for it, I am not desperate for it. I will be able to live without if it never comes again… I don’t want it to be so. I will continue to seek; wishes and wants will continue to be cast into the winds, where the seeds might grow and the universe hears my wishes.
My creativity is something that helps me cope with many things. It is something I have found fun, satisfying, emotionally stimulating and frustrating as fuck. I am a silversmith and dabble in other mediums of artistic expression as well. I think of myself as a creative person. Lately I have only been able to write this public journal. My studio remains unorganized and lonely.
For the past few years my studio setup was in a large garage off an alley in Bellingham. It was unheated and not insulated, but when the climate cooperated, I could be found in my creative magical place. I would have friends come over and work, socialize and of course create. Last year I moved and currently am in the process of setting it up in a lovely space, all insulated and heated just out my bedroom door.
One would think I would be thrilled to get things organized and start creating! No, I am not doing it; I am procrastinating, avoiding and even emotionally pissed off at all this stuff.
For years I had a great little business in Bellingham, teaching jewelry making and selling the supplies to make jewelry. There was a community of jewelry artists that would come and work together using the studio tools and create in a common space. I had wonderful teachers, students, employees and members that are still a big part of my life today. I closed the business because I was trying to be available to my ex husband. He was retired and very demanding of my time and attention and I choose the relationship over the business. He left me within a year of closing the shop. Guess I made the wrong choice. It was a shit show!
Move forward to this new creative space. It is light, bright, warm and toasty even in the winter. I have moved most all of my stuff into the space now and I got nothing. I feel emotionally upset to even be in the studio. It represents many failures. My business, my marriage and my creative passion.
I am, as we all are dealing, with so much crap in this new world. I am emotionally fragile. I am keeping it together, but frankly this creative block is adding to my stress, and emotional angst. I see my studio as a place of chaos and failure, not a safe haven of creativity and passion.
I got no upbeat insights to conclude this journal entry. I wish I did! I wish I had help. I am looking for a creative muse. Maybe I can put an ad on Craigslist. “Blocked artist, emotionally screwed up from all the awful things happening in our country, seeks creative muse to inspire and delight, please apply.” Please, come to me my muse.
In this craziness we are living at the moment; the threat of COVID, the social isolation, the unjustness of racism, the rioting, not to mention climate change and the coming recession… we are all collectively fairly sad or depressed. Then when we add the idiot and chief and his merry band of douche bags, raping and pillaging our rights and The Constitution, its plainer than a pig on a sofa, sadness or depression is going to get worse for us all. Maybe you are lucky and have never been depressed so you don’t understand or you have a loved one who suffers with it. I am going to share my story for you and for me.
See, I suffer from depression during “normal” times. This public journal is one of my coping skills to keep the thief called depression locked out of my life. I am truly terrified that if I don’t do things to be proactive, it will kill me! Now, don’t call in a wellness check yet! This is a fear which is not bad, I am doing things to prevent it which is good, but it is an evil bastard and I need to talk about it, now!
My bouts of depression are only occasional, but it is still a huge part of my life. I am always assessing and assuring myself that the emotion I am feeling is not the start of a depression episode. I believe I have suffered from depression since I was a child but since it wasn’t diagnosed until later in my life, I can only speculate.
Depression is such a thief, it can steal more than mental and emotional health, it can affect with its thievery on every other aspect of life, physical, social and professional.
It can be insidious or spontaneous. I have had it sneak-up on me so gradually I simply didn’t notice anything more than a slowing of coping skills and a feeling of melancholy. Next thing I knew, I was in bed unable to getup for a glass of water because the effort was too much to handle. There have been other times where I was fine, then BAM, blindsided.
I started taking antidepressants during one of my episodes. They help, but they are not a cure. I still get depressed but infrequently now, luckily I haven’t had one for years. When I am really depressed, as in a full blown can’t get out of bed or get myself a glass of water, I can be suicidal.
Depression hurts so bad. It is a physical pain in the center of my core. It aches yet it’s sharp, it’s a 10 out of 10 on the pain scale. My brain doesn’t work right and my mind starts telling me all the old scripts about being worthless and no good and I believe it! My mind spirals and I can’t find a solution to the simplest problem. I am thirsty and need water but the physical movement is to much. I need to get out of bed (nope that’s not going to happen) and even if I could manage rolling out of bed, there is the trip to the kitchen for a glass (way too much work) but say I made it that far, I would need to fill the glass and get it back to bed. So, I lie in bed, thirsty and in pain. My mind tells me it would be easier to be dead. I wouldn’t be in pain. I wouldn’t be thirsty. It happens so fast and with such force I will do anything to not feel that way.
It has taken me years and years of counseling, antidepressants and a lot of hard personal work, but I have found ways to help not going to the dark hopeless place. I can’t promise it won’t happen to me again, I do work like hell to prevent it from happening.
So here a few things I know that I will share with you. I am going to use the first person pronoun but these are universal. If you know someone who suffers with this debilitating illness, also know these probably apply to them as well.
Don’t tell me to look on the bright side. There is no bright side in the black hole. It will only make me feel like more of a looser because if getting over it was that easy, I wouldn’t be depressed. Just be there. I don’t need platitudes, I just need to know you are there for me.
Don’t tell me to get over it. Easy for you to say. Tough love is not the answer. I understand you are frustrated because you want to help but I can’t just get over it. There is no on-off switch.
I have no energy, it is a side effect of the depression. I am probably not going out for a walk with you, I know it might do me good, but without energy, there will be no walk. Please understand.
Depression is not sadness, often I don’t feel anything but the pain. People can be sad and feel depressed because of loss or trauma, and I can be depressed without sadness. Sure, they may go together, but they are so different. Understand that depression is more than a feeling, it is a disease and not understanding that, creates unrealistic expectations for me and you.
I can be sad but not depressed. We all feel sadness. 2020 is a time for sadness. We have an entire menu of sad things to choose from.
What makes me happy when I am not depressed, probably will hold little interest for me when I am depressed. I am not going out to the studio to make a ring or set a stone. I am not going to romp with puppies. It had zero appeal.
Depression is different for everyone. I tend to go to bed and isolate. Someone else might get angry or irritable. One size does not fit all with depression.
Talking it out helps but because of the stigma about depression I don’t often talk to my friends when I am depressed. This blog post is extremely hard for me. I am letting the cat out of the bag. You all know, yikes I am really scared about this. Going to do it anyway. There were times when I was seeing my counselor I didn’t have much to say. I went anyway because, never once did I feel worse upon leaving a session.
Don’t suggest a good drunk will help, it won’t. It will lower my inhibitions and I will do something stupid. Alcohol is after all a depressant.
All I need is someone to listen. Just be compassionate and remember this, it has nothing to do with you! I still love you the same as always.
I am not depressed now, I am not at risk. I am opening a conversation to talk about it and try to personally get over the shame. I am sad, very sad but that makes me human. These times are horrible and I can’t get my head around how to help other than to say this; if you or someone you love is suffering from this disease, be kind to them and yourself. You can’t fix them. Maybe just bring them a glass of water.
Where to start? I have had a tough and wonderful week. I have discovered love is all around me, I just need to allow it to penetrate my busy brain that seems to be focused other stuff , and just feel the love and see its grace. So this week:
I turned 65!
I found I could lovingly wish happiness and farewell to a lover and his new love in life.
I found a rekindling of my Covid neglected friendships.
I have nurtured a lovely relationship with a male friend and through communication and feedback have had some real emotional breakthroughs as a result of our talks.
I have decided I like writing and should learn how to do it properly.
I have 7 puppies that need me, and offer up unconditional love.
I don’t feel 65, don’t act 65 (I prefer to look at it as childlike wonder and not childishness) and with my clothes on, don’t look 65. It was hard, me turning 65. I am still fairly angry and bitter at the birthday fairy who whacked the shit out of me with the age baton on Wednesday. I think 64 sounds significantly more youthful than 65. I am not currently happy to be 65. By far a difficult milestone birthday. I am coming around to it… kinda kicking and screaming but I was certainly shown a lot of love on this birthday.
First, I was able to celebrate it with my birthday sister, Barbara and my dear friend Susi. They both made a huge effort to show me love.
I received loving texts and calls from my family and friends, including 2 separate birthday song serenades. My friend Roger made me a beautiful gift. He made it! With his two hands! He later brought me dinner from Olive Garden just because he thought I needed a special dinner. I stated a birthday fundraiser for the dog rescue I work with as a puppy foster, and I raised double the amount I had hoped for (thanks you so much family and friends)! I went to visit a friend and he had a birthday cake and birthday balloon waiting for me! I found all this love, while lamented my old age! What a gift.
Then there is the lover that texted me the day before my birthday to say he was going to be exclusive with his new woman. That was hard. I used the excuse of the text to be hurt. Fact is it wouldn’t have mattered how the news was delivered; text, phone call or carrier pigeon, it hurt. It hurt because I was going to be 65 the next day and it made me feel like the two were connected. Like 65 made me old and washed up. The fact is that was faulty thinking. I care for this man and after a hot minute of thinking about it realized I should be happy for him. I was and am happy for him. We had our moment, which was all I ever asked of him and now he has found happiness. I am blessed for the experience of knowing him and my gift to myself is wishing him well.
On my birthday, I was able to see (at a safe social distance) my dear friends that Covid had prevented me from seeing, in the flesh. What a wonderful thing to be able to visit and express in person our love. There is nothing better than girlfriends and I so appreciate they are part of my life. Sure missed my Canadian friend, I am sure she missed not being able to attend.
I am going to combine two of the items on my list. The friend I went to visit, who is one of my favorite poets, encouraged me to continue writing. We shared many varied conversations and through those honest discussions I discovered new truths about myself and some of the things I am sharing with you now in this blog entry are realizations from our talks . I am astonished to see how quickly answers to problems or perceived hurts are identified and understood when there is someone who will really listen and then not make judgments or give unsolicited advise but just listen. Don’t get me wrong I asked for a lot of advice from him because I admire how he has processed the issues in his life that have been troublesome. His advise or observations were thoughtful and intuitive. It was only in the talking about things that I was able to see some of my more tricky obstacles make sense. What a lovely gift conversation is. As I also mentioned he encouraged me to continue writing but perhaps learn more about the craft. I do often mention that I have few writing skills, but it was a realization that I could actually study and become better at this medium. He suggested several books, and even gave me a book to help in my journey. I hope in the future to become a better writer, but apparently I need to actually work at it.
I got seven new puppies to foster today. Five from one litter and 2 much younger pups from a second litter. They didn’t arrive until later this evening so I can’t say much about their personalities but they are pure bundles of love.
In spite or because I had a challenging week, I feel loved. I am still not happy turning 65 and feeling irrelevant in society, but I do feel important to my family and friends, so I will take it! Maybe, when I turn 66 I will look back on 65 and realize it wasn’t so bad.
I have been a lucky girl, I have a lot of jewelry. Jewelry that I have received as a gift, jewelry made for me, jewelry I have purchased for myself, not to mention jewelry I made myself. I am like a crow, I love sparkle and metal.
I was lucky enough to learn jewelry making, from my dear friend, Judi Gauthier. She has taught so many people in the PNW how to make jewelry, you can see her influence all over Bellingham and beyond. When her life changed, I bought her jewelry making school and added some new services and classes. Pouncing Rain Jewelry and Metalworking was my business, my salvation, the introduction to so many of the good, true friends I have today. It also allowed me to attend the Tucson Gem Show, an amazing excess of designer jewelry, beads, gems, findings, chains, tools and every other thing imaginable in the jewelry world.
When one attends this show, you see every space available in town crammed full of the amazing things nature has made and humans have collected. Imagine a dive motel, with every room filled with something different, curated by people from ever corner of the globe. A room full of meteorites of every size and shape, another room with just fossils, Spiked Trilobites, Trilobites of all sorts, Ammonites, Mosasaur teeth as an example of a few. Walk into another room and you find Geods of every size and shape and on and on.
Then there is the AGTA, the holy grail of every gemstone, diamond, pearl, designer jewelry line in the world. I was lucky enough over the years to not only attend the show, but to bring employees and friends to go to the show. It was wonderful, wholesale prices and the companionship of great people. I purchased many pieces over the years. I am so lucky.
So, knowing this you might wonder why I have always been fascinated with Tiffany’s?! It started as a favorite book, Breakfast at Tiffany’s “ a book I identified with and then a fascination with the movie of the same name. I loved that movie and have seen it uncounted times over the years. I have always secretly wanted to go into Tiffany’s and shop. I have looked at their jewelry online and dreamed of receiving a gift in that famous blue box.
Last year, I was fortunate to be in Paris with my dear friend, Lauretta. We were walking down the Champs-Élysées and what did we find? Tiffany’s!!!! I wanted to go in and shop, dressed in my comfort clothes and my headband. So we did!
So, we walked in and I found a little bee necklace made of gold. I decided to buy it, even though it was insanely expensive, for what it was. I didn’t care. We were ushered into a beautiful salon and offered champagne, so that the common business of exchanging money could be done in private. So very Tiffany’s!
OMG, it was wonderful. I know it seems a bit shallow and self indulgent but I was in Tiffany’s and I was going home with a piece of jewelry from an iconic place I had alway been fascinated with.
I share this story with a little hesitation. See, I have disclosed deep dark secrets to you, without shame, but I have some degree of shame I spent so much money on something not really needed, BUT, I still loved the entire experience, this little box was my Cinderella moment. For me, bought by me, with my own money. No Prince Charming needed.