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.

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11.12.14 year of living undangerously

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If you could go back in time, live your life over knowing what you know now, what would you do differently?

Me, I have a laundry list of items.
-Don’t bother with that ‘My So Called Life’ letter writing campaign, Angela Chase is over.
-Love is easy. Worrying if you are phoning someone too much is a sign that they are the wrong person. The right person will welcome all your phone calls AND visit you in the hospital after knowing you for just seven days.
-Chewing on your lip repeatedly DOES cause wrinkles.
-January 22, 2007? Don’t ride the bike to work. Take the day off, why don’t you.
-Credit cards do NOT buy happiness, cut those puppies up.
-That time your flight lays over in Heathrow and you are the only one there who recognizes the RZA? Go say hi, tell him you’re a fan.
-That self destructive phase? Not worth it.

That last one there is something that I still struggle with. It’s easy when everything hurts to look for an outlet, a fight, drugs, sex, anything to make yourself feel better. It’s hard NOT to, even. But I’m too old for that. My hangover will be too brutal, the downs far outweigh the ups. But today hurts. I’m officially an IVF round two drop out. My body isn’t responding to the drugs. I’ve only got one little follicle to show for it. Not enough to proceed.

Today’s bangles: my dad’s Rolex, silver sea shell charm bracelet, polymer clay bracelets

10.23.14 blue and gold

IMG_2880.JPG Today my UP gets a moment in the spotlight! It goes with the little turquoise bracelet so I figured, what the heck? It’s paired with my dad’s watch, which it turns out I have to wear to keep the time running. I’m also wearing a little Native American silver and turquoise cuff, and my asymmetrical brass wire cuff from Goodwill.

Dude, I am dragging today. My mom would blame the low barometric pressure and this funky weather we’re having in Sauna Francisco. It’s so warm! Hot even! And with our drought going on, I’m worried. I woke up the other morning smelling smoke, convinced something nearby was on fire. But it was a remanent of a dream. I blame my dragging on staying awake too late last night. And the low barometric pressure, I think my mom is right on that one.

Great news though, I sold a painting yesterday! So I hustled my butt this morning to get it to the shippers before work. Here it is below, it has a highly reflective surface so the glare is huge. Farewell “The Sub”! Hope you enjoy your new home in Minnesota! Better you than me!

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10.22.14 one great blog

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The other day Heather , the clever blogger behind HeatherBergdahl.com nominated me for a Lovely Blog, or One Great Blog. Being locked into a weird wordpress loop I can’t find the proper name for the thing :/ but I remember how it works!

First of all, I seriously enjoy reading Heather’s blog. I’m a bit of a medical groupie, I’ll admit it! And Heather writes sometimes about her experience in med school, and sometimes about pumpkins/fall (I fugging love Halloween season!), offers some calorie friendly recipes and ohhhh CUTE ANIMAL GIFS. How can you go wrong with cute animals!

IMG_2867.GIF Wot!?! I don’t know how to gif, I’m sorry. Also, do not even think of mentioning Monday to Heather. She and Garfield share some similar disinterests.

As for me, some facts I haven’t shared properly (I promise it’s not intense! I know I sometimes spring some heavy stuff on you all):

1. As a little girl I wrote a letter to the Tooth Fairy asking her to bring my dolls to life. I should point out this is, apparently, beyond the scope of the Tooth Fairy’s powers.

2. This is year two at my shop where I’ve displayed my haunted dollhouse. It is the same house where those aforementioned dolls resided. But a lot more black.

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3. Is it a compulsion to always keep one’s hands busy? If so, I compulsively make stuff. I paint, write (duh), knit, needlepoint, bake. That’s one of my paintings behind the dollhouse. And below is the shrug I recently knit and designed myself. I posted the free pattern on my shop’s blog Bath Sense, for my fellow knitters.

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4. My two doggies are Bandit and Leroy. I bring them to work with me, we are around each other pretty much 24/7. That’s Bandit on the left

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5. Today I’m wearing my Elsa Peretti X, my knot from Hiho Silver, Lorraine Jarbler’s ID bracelet (a Goodwill find), and my dad’s Rolex.

How many of these was I supposed to do? I feel like I just vomited info all over you guys and didn’t even give you a proper warning.

Now for the bloggers that I nominate all loosey goosey style. This part makes me shy, because I only follow blogs that interest me, I basically nominate everyone. But also I don’t want you to feel obliged, like this is some kind of chain letter you must heed or a black cat will cross your path and then you’ll be truly fudged. (How do folks feel about cursing? Because I almost cursed there but I restrained myself.)

So in the end, I nominate these blogs because I find them very interesting, would like to know more about them, they write about a variety of topics and I don’t recall reading recently one of these listy things in their blogs. AND I recommend you follow them too. You won’t be disappointed.

Blvck Fash Fanatique
Blogubarra
At the Library
Jack Flacco
Miss North
The Honking Goose
Dressed by Dressler

10.12.14 it’s gonna take time

IMG_2784.JPG This is what’s happening. Tons of time. I carry it all on my wrist. My dad’s Rolex, my Cape Cod watch (if you only knew my complicated hateful feelings towards Cape Cod the place, you would understand why the name of this watch bothers me so much), and an upside down Tank Française.

When one is this rich in time, what’s it matter to wear a watch upside down?

10.4.14 crash test dummy

IMG_2716.JPG It was exactly seven days after I first met my honey that I was run over by a truck.

I used to bike commute to work. I always wore my helmet, never crossed against red, and still doing everything correctly, a pickup truck hauling concrete executed an illegal right hand turn and ran me over. The hauling concrete is the punchline of my story. This was almost 8 years ago.

I remember brief details from the moment, which I don’t feel like sharing at this time. The truck crossed my chest. My parents arrived at the hospital when it was still unclear if I would survive. I sometimes find myself thinking I shouldn’t be alive. I have the kind of luck for things so unlikely, that if only the luck were angled at the lottery, I’d be a mega millions winner. But no, it’s the wrong kind of luck.

Anyway, these stupid bangles are survivors of the accident. They show a tiny bit of roadrash.

IMG_2717.JPG I purchased them at a boutique on Chestnut Street with a gift certificate just that weekend before. I think they cost me $15 maybe. Little nothing bangles with little nothing scars. I don’t wear them ever, and I can’t explain why I wore them today. But my other bangles are a North African bangle from the streets of NY, my dad’s Rolex, and the Hermès Astrologie from my honey.

9.30.14 heavy metal

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Do you guys remember my Today’s Bangles post titled Solid Gold Lumberjack? Well, I went ahead and engraved my dad’s watch and I picked it up the other day. What do you think?

IMG_2653.JPG I remember so clearly rubbing that glass bump on the face of the watch while my dad wore it. And the calluses on his palm, this weird wart that grew under his ring finger (that he had removed eventually), and his nicely trimmed nails. Now I have just his Rolex. So I’m wearing it, the Elsa Peretti X, and the Mexican cuff. All gifts from him.

9.2.14 Solid Gold Lumberjack

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Today’s look is “solid gold lumberjack”…. I’m wearing my dad’s Rolex with my UP. I want to inscribe something on the back of his watch, I’m thinking daddy because yes I was so spoiled of a 34 year old to still call my dad daddy and no I’m not from the south so this was highly irregular.

All my jewelry has stories and right now my jewelry feels especially meaningful to me while I struggle with grief. The gold earrings are Elsa Peretti hearts from my dad, the pink pearl necklace my husband won at an auction for some ridiculously little amount (like $35, I think?), then there are my Brazilian voodoo necklace charms from my mom. I say voodoo, but truly they are H. Stern, so the chic sort of Brazilian voodoo. The feathers are to carry me through this period of time, the tiny frog charm is for fertility, and the kokopelli is the trickster who is also a fertility charm. But I worry his tricky ways are getting the best of me.