What good is a blog if you can’t brag about your kids once in a while? And what kind of blog are you writing if you don’t reveal a few details about your inner self? I was reading a blog a few weeks ago where the woman actually talked about her sex life—no, really, there was a tab that said SEX—and lives in a rural area where, if I had just asked a few questions, I could have found the location of her farm and the name of her husband! (How do you say, “Too much information????!!!”)
I have to admit to a weakness to which many women my age (and mostly older) succumb. We are inexorably drawn to jewelry that glitters. The gaudier, the flashier, the bigger, and more colorful, the better. As long as the barriers are down, I’ll admit that I’m drawn to jewelry that clanks, clangs, and chimes. I like bells on my bracelets and jingles on my anklets. I’m just shameless!
And I really, really love OWLS.
I used to pick up owl pendants and pins and rings at garage sales for 25 or 50 cents. (AVON used to turn out astonishingly LARGE owl jewelry in the 1970s, a wonderful decade for the tasteless and the tawdry.) Now that owls are popular again, the price of all this wonderful, oversized, costume jewelry is through the roof. Just when I decided I was mature enough to carry off a really big owl pendant (circa 1973), I found their price had soared above my slender purse.
This is where my daughter, a dear friend, and a plastic grocery sack of broken jewelry came in.
My daughter is very talented and creative. She is also very handy and makes all kinds of jewelry out of whatever we have at hand or can pick up cheaply or for free. She constructs most of her creations with found objects, recycled materials, and deconstructed or broken jewelry from yard sales and thrift shops. Just before Christmas, a friend stopped by with a bag of broken jewelry her husband had picked up at an auction and never used. He was cleaning out the garage and thought of us (touching).
My friend took my daughter aside and dug one item out of the bag and suggested it might be made into a thoughtful Christmas present for her dear mother. Here is the result. I mentioned to another friend that I had worn “the piece” several times, and for some odd reason no one had admired it, puzzling because I thought it was grand!