I’m a sucker for free stuff, especially if it’s free stuff of some value. When an ad came in the mail from our jeweler for a free necklace, no strings attached, I went gunning for that mo’fo. It helped that I also needed to take my sparkly wedding ring to be rhodium plated. Hang on a minute. What actually is rhodium plating? Does it really do the thing? Let me research this. [Pleasant instrumental music] Oh, heck! Yeah, it was probably a good idea to get that done. Basically, it’ll going to make my ring, the ring that already blinds people from across the room, even shinier. My apologies about your vision.
Okay, this story isn’t about searing retinas, it’s about my face. As happens every time I take the ring to the jewelers for cleaning and inspection, the counter-person inevitably asks “When’s the wedding?” You see, I don’t wear a wedding band. I wear an engagement ring as my band. It’s easy to assume, when I take just one ring off and hand it over, that we’re not yet married. At least twice a year we field this question, so we’re ready for it with some sort of smart-ass answer. Today’s answer was “Oh, 18 years ago.” And then the counter-lady did a quick double take and, quite seriously asked “Whuuuuuh?” We hesitated a bit before answering her that we have been married for over 18 years. She stared at me a few seconds, and then said “But she looks like she’s 22 years old.”
Oh, her face when I smiled at her and said “I’m 38.” Technically, I’m 38 5/6ths, but I didn’t need to rub it in. She just couldn’t believe I was old enough to have been married for 18 years. You and me both, sister, but I am. And I’ve got the big, honkin’ rhodium-plated sparkler to prove it.
I got the necklace, too. I kind of let that story die out. Sorry. It’s really pretty.
My homeboy Jay just got a job at Starbucks, so the next stop was to go visit them at work. Unfortunately, Jay didn’t have the courtesy to actually be AT work, and was instead lollygagging around Marshall’s, whining about “But I don’t come in until 4” or something. Kyle and I had a slap-fight at the register to decide who was paying and, thus, collecting stars towards our Gold memberships, and, without my giant diamond ring, I was at a disadvantage. He won and paid for our caffeine and we set off for home, feeling young and twitchy.
As tends to happen when we are left to our own devices, we didn’t actually make it home when we meant to. We ended up at Fat Head Brewery for lunch. Yes…lunch…we went for…lunch…
They make a killer hefeweizen, and a not bad IPA if you’re the type who goes for drinking straight from the perfume bottle. I am not, but that didn’t stop me from ordering a sample just to see what the big deal was. Long story short, I still have that gift of downing alcohol without tasting it, just to keep from wasting it. Haven’t used that specific skill since the Marine Corps days, but there you have it.
After our beer lunch, Kyle and I needed a little fresh air before we were safe to drive, so we got our coffees (which we left in the car when we remembered beer existed) and walked through some of the shops in the area. I was strangely elated to learn that Kirkland’s (A.K.A. The Jesusy House Store) had their Christmas items out, so we wandered around the shop, making up dirty lyrics to Christmas carols. All went right with the universe, though, when we went to Home Goods and played with the Halloween stuff.
As Kyle didn’t down a bottle of Chanel No. 5 along with his stout, he was good to drive long before I was. The ride home was uneventful, as was the following two hours when I hit the bed and lost all consciousness. Naps, man. I’m telling you. Toddlers have it good.
The evening was blocked off for some quiet office time, but I AM A WILD WOMAN AND I CANNOT BE CAGED! So we went to Target, where I subsequently hit the jackpot, but all of that will be another post for another day because I feel like there was a point to all of this, but I lost how I was trying to get from Point A to Point B.
All of this has been my awful way of saying that I actually took the time today to put my novel cork board stuff. I’ve got a word count tracker, a scene-reminder-focuser-er, and some twinkle lights because, c’mon, is it even a cork board without twinkle lights?
DO YOU HEAR WHAT I’M TRYING TO TELL YOU?! We’re on the move, guys. I’m feeling back to myself, and I’ve regained discipline and focus, and the story is flowing smoothly from my fingertips now. I know this doesn’t stick around so I’m celebrating the good times now because, when I get hit by the Struggle Bus, I’m going to need to be reminded that I can write well and have a life, that I can still do fun thing with the people I love and bring my dreams to reality. I am a great writer, and I belong here, type-y type typin’ away on my laptop, creating worlds, while simultaneously being in mine.
Look, it sounded a lot better in my head. You get the point. I’m happy. I’m in my element. This shit’s rhodium plated.