MIA for all the right reasons

ileava Sleeping Moon Pendant


That’s what I’ve been! MIA for all the right reasons. Two pieces of big (good) news keep interfering with my WP time. First up- I was accepted as an artist for the Startup Art Fair in San Francisco. (May 1-3 at the Hotel del Sol in San Francheesie) which is SOOOO exciting. It’s basically the most legit art show I’ve participated in to date. Click on the artists link, find my name, ahem, Margaret Timbrell… that’s me!!! But now I need to make more new work. My artwork for this show is almost entirely needlepoints so I must stitch from sun down to sun up, until my fingers turn into canvas and needle and I start dreaming about stitching. It happens. Trust me. But so, stitching and blogging are some serious conflicts.

The other big blogging conflict? Pregnancy with TWINS!! I am carrying two guppies right now. My honey and I are over the moon!! But so my main activity besides stitching? SLEEPING. Here’s my schedule: wake up at 6:30 AM. Take a nap from 9-10 AM. Walk to work. Curl up in my little nest on the floor of the storage room and nap for about an hour midday. Walk home. Go to bed at 7:30 PM. Somehow squeeze in enough stitching to make a decent show of this art fair.

Stitching and sleeping. Stitching and sleeping. What are you guys doing? Writing? How productive of you. I find writing seriously cuts into my *yawn* … yah, so…zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

*faceplant into the desk*

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Honey

Pre-owned Alexander McQueen Skull and Bee Ring


You have maybe noticed that I refer to my honey as “Honey”. I call him “Honey” and he calls me “Honey”. And when I refer to myself to him in the third person I call myself “your honey” as in “Your honey wants you to take the dogs out.” It’s a lot of honey. I also refer to other people’s honeys as their honeys. I don’t know how or where any of this came from. I have no explanation for all this honey business.

But so what I’m wondering today is this: if my honey and I wind up also calling my womb tenants “honey” how are we ever going to know who we are talking about?

Side side side note: I just looked at my post stats page and did you all know we can look at our blog stats going back to 1970!!!!!??! WHAT THE EFF?

Agents, Guns, and Diane von Furstenberg

Pre-owned Diamond Yellow Gold Gamblers Dice Bracelet


The other day Old Road Apples said such a flattering thing about my blog:

It’s interesting…I don’t wear jewelry, don’t shop for jewelry, but still find myself needing to “like” things on your page.

It’s so flattering because that perfectly sums up my goals with my writing. Sure, I write about jewelry, but I use it as a device to write about more in life; my stories, things that impress me, just regular human experiences that are bigger than gender and the writing device itself. I am proud that I have a number of male and female readers who are not jewelry aficionados and that my blog isn’t a specifically ‘No Boys Allowed!’ kind of club.

Marc by Marc Jacobs Roll The Dice Earring


As I mentioned in this post about hope, there is a trifecta of stars in my life that I am hoping will align right now. We can check off successful IVF, which leaves two: a big deal art fair that I applied to, and finding an agent for my novel. I spent yesterday emailing agents and two requested writing samples. HOORAY! Right? So I posted an update about it on facebook.

Now my novel, like my blog, is something that I hope transcends gendered interest. I wish it would fall into the noir, mystery, or suspense genres but since I am female, and the protagonist is female, we decided to call it ‘chicklit noir’ because the aim is to sell this thing, afterall. I’ll make a big fuss about this whole silly ‘chicklit’ notion later when I’m established.

Pre-owned Rolex Stainless Steel Air-King Wristwatch with Domino's Pizza Dial circa 2004


Wait, no, I’ll make a fuss now. You know how many times Lee Childs goes into detail about Jack Reacher’s weaponry? A shit ton. Do I care about his weaponry specifics? Not a fig, but I still read every damn Jack Reacher book. Now, my casino story I describe some outfits my character wears. Will everyone care? No, but fuck that. I read about Jack Reacher’s weapons, my reader can fucking tolerate some wardrobe changes. And so what my protagonist develops a love interest in the story, so does Jack Reacher (in every single Reacher story) but we’re not lumping him into ‘chicklit’.

Back on topic, I had two agents bite on my query emails. Lots of fb friends very nicely ‘liked’ my update and posted encouraging comments. It was super heartwarming. But then of course this rage inducing exchange (see below) goes down in private message.

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Are you fucking kidding me dude? “sexy outfits”?!?! This is so INAPPROPRIATE on SOOO MANY LEVELS.

First of all- Don’t “sexy” pm me ANYTHING EVER for so many reasons but especially since I am married. Pro-tip, don’t send unsolicited “sexy” pms to ANY woman EVER.
Second- I obviously already expressed my concern at being gender typecast and FIRST QUESTION about my novel is the fucking sexiness of the clothes?!?
Third- Even without the prior concerns expressed, are you fucking kidding me with this question? There is no point at which this question would be appropriate. *Maybe* if I was like “I’m writing a novel all about sexy outfits” *maybe* then it’d be passably acceptable. But it’s not. It’s about a woman who works in a casino. So ask me a fucking casino related question, I know my gambling shit.
Fourth- “Chicklit” pretty much guarantees no descriptions of “sexy” outfits. “Chicklit” is not “erotic fiction”.

Anyway. I showed my husband the exchange. He said “what a creep.” Which is exactly correct, this is an excellent illustration of creepiness. And this guy can’t figure out why he can’t find a girlfriend. ANYWAY. I’m done bitching.

How are you guys doing? Did you pop over to Old Road Apples blog yet? I love the found photos. Especially now, it makes me so thankful for our lack of snow in SF.

Jewelry Stories

nymag jewelry
Besides Twitter my main source of news is NY Mag which I receive in the mail every other week and then proceed to rarely read. So I’m pretty much NOT up on any sort of current event. But this week I actually opened my NY Mag and found this article about women, jewelry, and their life stories. If you have read my blog for any length of time you know I am all about this.

This article started me wondering why do we do this? Why do we attach emotions to objects? Is it sentimentality? Or nostalgia? Or the human urge to tell stories and these objects are our props, like memory triggers? Do you do this with your objects, jewelry or what have you? I know Stories of Objects does, as does Sabiscuit because like me they both actively collect and catalog their objects with stories. But do you? Do we all? Even if you don’t blog about it, do you have your special symbolic somethings with stories? What are they? I’m curious.

Also? Happy Valentine’s day.

My Heart A Romance Stone Story by Blogubarra

Because a bangle is mentioned and because I love love and because Valentine’s day I heartily recommend this short story by Blogubarra.

Blogubarra

Amethyst Flower A rose for Valentine’s

You see it was an amethyst stone.  Found fallen from a bangle chain.

It must’be been, lying there on the street.  When I picked it up as you do, it had small writing on it. I showed it to the seller at the packed flower stall nearby.  She took one look at it and said ‘the writing’s too small’ .  I asked did she have a magnifying glass.

“no.. It’s the kind of stone that you have to give, it has a message on it, but it cannot be read unless it connects to the heart of the one it is given to.”  She said.

” How do you know that ? ” I asked.

“I know that because I had one once.  Just like that only bigger.  A young man turned up one day and gave it me just on the street nearby.  I had…

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Big News!!

Gold Wishbone Necklace


It’s been a very exciting couple of days. I was waiting to post about this because my mom made me paranoid. BUT. SO. I found a little clip iPod on the street. Yay!

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY I peed on a stick and a big + appeared!!! Technically first I had my blood drawn and a nurse phoned me to tell me the good news. Then I spent the morning sobbing with happiness. Then my honey ran out and bought a stick for me to pee on so we could have that experience. Then there was significantly more joy-crying. Oh my god, I’m crying again.

Altruette Lucky Charity Set


You don’t even know what this means to me. It’s been a really shitty year and a half where life reminded me over and over that everything can always get worse. “You thinks infertility sucks? And that your grandmother’s health scare was bad? Well let’s see how you handle your dad’s unexpected death, Margaret.”

Pre-owned Vintage Lucky Figa Sterling Bracelet


It really felt like I couldn’t have anything. I still can’t believe that this, the third and final IVF round, worked. Oh shit. I’m crying again. Fortunately I had for sight enough to confirm with my doctor that crying will not harm the fetus.

SHY by Sydney Evan Lucky Single-Diamond Script Necklace


I just feel so so so very lucky right now. This mini iPod is going to be so useful.

Henry Morgan Kopek Prawno

Forever pocket watch
Today I checked my stats on how search engines find my blog. As usual, there are a large number of porn hits. Dog porn drives the most traffic to VeryBangled.com followed quickly by kopek porn. I googled kopek, it means ‘dog’ in Turkish. Score! I’m bringing in the international dog porn searchers! After we wade thru all the multiple porn and dog searches, the next most frequent search theme that brings you to me* is Forever + Henry Morgan + pocket watch. In a variety of combos.

Everybody is trying to find the brand of Henry Morgan’s pocket watch. This is some hard information to come by. My other Henry Morgan post and my other pocket watch post don’t return the exact brand. But you know what? After a lot of research today, I think Henry Morgan’s watch is by A. Lange Sohne, and dude, that isht disturbs the Forever timeline!
A. Lange Soehne Christies
A. Lange Sohne started in 1845 which doesn’t exactly jive with Henry Morgan’s narrative (being born in 1779 and all.)(Interesting side note, A. Lange Sohne’s stamp changed sometime after 1890 with an added curve to the ‘A. Lange’ part of the logo which is much different from Henry Morgan’s watch.)(Oh my god. I think I might accidentally be the Henry Morgan pocket watch expert.)
pocket watch bracelet
So then I wondered if there were any great pocket watches on Chairish.com since I have a -20% discount code that works until Feb 11, BathSense20, for you all to use. Anyway, no pocket watches! But I found this awesome bracelet/watch that I have never seen on an episode of Forever. However I have faith that with the right tie Henry Morgan could make it work.

*Welcome! All coffee is complimentary but cream is extra. Also, you are probably going to be disappointed on the dog/porn front.

A. Lange Sohne 1870 pocket watch at Christie’s
Pocket Watch Charm bracelet at Chairish.com

Coming Out

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How out are you with your blogging/social media identities? Becoming Cliche has a great post today on how to twitter. I twitter (@bathsense follow me! I mostly tweet about TWD or the Bachelor, sometimes stuff about my shop), instagram, facebook, tumblr, wordpress (duh)… But I’m not completely “out” about my blog.
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It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who I am when reading my WordPress blog but it still is a little bit anonymous. Anonymous enough that I haven’t connected it to facebook. Nor do I link my blog to twitter. Oddly it’s not my blog readers that I’m hiding from, it’s my facebook friends. I am so honest and open on here in a way that I’m not comfortable sharing with this mixed bag of people, my facebook friends. Facebook is too full of schadenfreude.

But twitter? To help promote my blog, should I link it to twitter? It’s much more abstract, and I am but a tiny ant in the ocean of tweets (or whatever)… But is it too emotionally risky to push my blogs out to my twitter account? Thereby semi opening my blog up to facebook friends in a roundabout way?

Do you push your blog out to twitter and/or facebook? Any regrets? How open are you about your blogging? Do tell me your experience.

Tiffany’s Key at 1st Dibs
Secret locket by The Dedication Company on Etsy
Lock & Key bangle by Blue Nile

Hope

diamond hope necklace by JR DUNN

There is so much to be hopeful for right now but I worry about hope. It ties into “my narrative of self” (as my therapist calls it) where I feel as though I am not a particularly lucky person. Hello, run over by a truck here! So hope feels like a dangerous thing that is bound to hurt me.

I had my IVF transfer yesterday. Three embryos! With decent ratings. I’m so hopeful, so so hopeful. But this is final round three, and I don’t know if hope is even warranted. 👇 me and my honey all suited up.

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Then there’s the art fair that I applied to. It’s very prestigious called the stARTup Art Fair, and open only to artists who aren’t currently represented by any galleries. Since I handle my own sales, I qualify! I submitted early. I’m proud of the work, I sort of have an “in” with one of the judges, I want this and it would be a big thing for me. I’m hopeful. 👇 a piece I submitted

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Finally. Finally, (I’m shaking now from writing the scariest most precious things down for you all to read) I’ve been working on a story for 8 years now. It started out as a journal of my pain from my accident and along the way it morphed into a novel about a girl who works in a casino. My editor calls it “chicklit noir” and my other editor, Laurel from Dear Writers scrubbed out all my silly nonsense, tightened it up, and perfected it for me. Now, my first editor, Jay, says we’ll start approaching agents. I feel really good about my story, it’s something different and interesting. But again… too much hope.

So I’m sitting here completely terrified. TERRIFIED. Hope has never treated me kindly before, I don’t know why it would treat me well now. All I can do is bide my time and wait to be punched in the face one way or another. Or all three ways! But still I hope maybe for once everything will go my way.

Hope Necklace byJR Dunn

The Other Monday 2007

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One of the very interesting things with memory is that to create and store a memory you must review regularly. Starting especially within the initial days following an event. So if something disrupts this process, especially when it’s something high adrenaline and stressful, the memories preceding it are easily forgotten. Which is how it’s so hard for me to piece together the prior week of dates out with my honey aka the guy from the bar.

That Monday (it was the 22nd of January), I woke up at my new boyfriend’s apartment early. We lived all of a ten minute walk away from each other so I dashed home where I dressed for work. I must have strapped my newish silver metallic bag to the back of my bike because it was returned to me later. I think I wore black pants and a white blouse, I definitely wore my long brown leather jacket, three squiggly little cheapo bangles, and a helmet. And then I got on my bike to ride to work.

I remember crossing onto Market Street, joining the bike lane. I also remember waiting at the red light on Octavia, in front of the freeway on ramp. Then the light changed green.

Next I remember pieces of a moment. At this point I’m not certain how real they are because it’s been eight years. But so the white truck to the left of me decided to make an illegal right hand turn onto the freeway.

I remember my surprise at the first impact. This “oh shit” feeling where I thought I was just going to lose my balance. Then the moment where I knew the situation was worse than that. Next there were people standing over me and I was both terrified and embarrassed to be laid out in the middle of the street blocking traffic. I wanted desperately to get up and go to work. I had an appointment! I had to leave. But they wouldn’t let me.

Most specifically there was a man. A very kind man with a goatee. A complete stranger who asked for phone numbers, he told me everything would be okay. And then he waited with me. I still don’t know his name.

Apparently the first phone number I remembered was my dad’s office number from when I was a little girl.

I sort of remember being in the ambulance. I know I was in immense pain, but when you aren’t in pain you sort of forget what pain is like. And then I have flashes of the emergency room. Being propped against a metal slab. My mom rushing in. The doctors saying I’d need a catheter and I started screaming. What? Catheters scare me. According to my mom that was when she knew that I’d be okay. At some point I had X-Rays, CAT scans, chest tubes inserted both in my right and left lungs, and a neck brace.

The rear tires of the pick-up truck (Ford F-450 bearing cement- that’s the punchline of this story) had crossed my torso and crushed it. Pretty much every rib broke, multiple times, puncturing both lungs. I should have died. Without a helmet I would have already been dead. There’s more to my injuries but the story telling machine is running out of steam.

“But what about your honey?” You may be asking. He came to visit me twice in the hospital. He met my parents while there. Then I broke up with him, because I couldn’t continue. I was hospitalized for just under a month, then I moved in with my mom so she could care for me. I spent a year of my life on a painkiller cocktail which left me numbed to pain and other feelings. My honey hung in there though, texting me (not too much, not too little) until finally we returned to slowly dating. It wasn’t until December that we became serious again.

So that’s it. The big week that changed my life in many ways. I’ve forgotten so much of it because the memories didn’t have time to form. I can piece together bits thanks to emails, pictures, my honey’s memory. But there are parts that are completely gone, blank hours. And things I’ve discovered that I misremembered. In the litigation I saw a picture of the truck, I learned the make and brand but it looked completely different from my memory of it.

Oh wait here is the actual punchline, you know why the driver made an illegal right hand turn and sped off after running me over? He had to go to the bathroom and hadn’t realized he’d struck a person on a bicycle. There are only two lessons here: drive safely and wear a helmet.

Today’s bangles: the trio I wore on the day of my accident, tortoise shell bangle from Goodwill, lucky figa charm bracelet.

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