Someone’s dog
once jumped on my lap to kiss me and, before I could kiss back, sucker-jumped
my ear, ripped out my earring, and ate it. All in less than 10 seconds. I
wasn’t mad at the dog. I could never be mad at an animal. I’m mad at the dog’s owners.
Instead of an apology or an effort to make amends, I got, “Oh, how funny! He
wants what he wants,” before they changed the subject, never speaking of it
again. I didn’t think it was funny. Looking back on it, 15 years later, it’s
not something I laugh about, it’s something nobody should ever remind me of,
unless they want a 10-minute tirade that usually concludes with, “and I’m still
owed a minimum of 14 karats.”
I just sorted through the earrings section of my jewelry box. I’ve had and lost so many. They’re like socks and boys and drinking buddies and ideas. One minute they’re there, making me giddy; the next minute they’re missing and I smirk at how well I can live without them.
I just sorted through the earrings section of my jewelry box. I’ve had and lost so many. They’re like socks and boys and drinking buddies and ideas. One minute they’re there, making me giddy; the next minute they’re missing and I smirk at how well I can live without them.
Back and forth, back and forth. That’s where
I go whenever I think about whether I should throw out a pair of studs a hippie
jeweler in New England sold me years ago. When I told her I was looking for opals,
she said opals are a sad stone and bad energy, it’s a sign that I’d lost one of
mine, it was time to change courses. That in jewel metaphysics, imperial topazes
are good energy, so I should buy a pair of those. She also mistook me for a marathoner
– there was a marathon in town that weekend, and she implied that I looked like
someone who could easily hold her own in one. Not long after that, I pulled out
my wallet and said, “Opal who? I think you’re onto something, imperial topazes are my next logical step!”
But opals are my best stone, my birthstone,
and it’s OK to be sad. No opal has made me as sad as I was when these imperial topazes
started looking funky after a few months of use. The topazes have become earrings
I wouldn’t be caught dead in or posting a picture of. Before I retired them, people
having a conversation with me would suddenly stop talking, furrow their brows
while staring at my earlobe, bring their heads closer to my head, and ask, “Is
there even a stone in there?”
I’m keeping them. I’m treating these topazes the
way I treat retaliatory e-mails – as evidence. I loathe imperialism.
I have seen lovely opal earrings, and I can well imagine how beautiful you would look in them. I don't think they are sad at all. In fact, it cheers me up to see such loveliness. I'm glad to hear they are your birthstone. I hope one day to see you wearing them.
ReplyDeleteI laughed so hard at the end. Ironically topaz is my birthstone; I prefer the chocolate colored. So the dog's owner didn't watch, um, for bowel deposits? What a shame!
ReplyDeleteFirst visit via Blue Grumpster. I enjoyed reading here; I'll return!