I Might Be a Crow, and I'm Okay with That

                 I'm dragging a bit today, not only because the wind was wild for the last 24 hours and Tiny refused to take a nap until three, but also because I decided at 11:30 last night that I needed to put all my earrings on the new racks I bought a while ago.  Earrings have become a favored gift for a lot of people in my life to give me, as they are always the right size, are easy to wrap, and are always appreciated.  I also love buying them for myself when I need a little lift and happen to be right next to the clearance rack at the discount department store.  I used up almost all the spaces, except for a couple spots next to the pearl drops with bee-shaped studs, which needed extra space, and I still have a good number of extras.  I have been collecting earrings for a few decades, and the highlights include:

--A large assortment of rhinestone danglies that can best be described as "designed by a drag queen who didn't get hugged enough as a kid."

--A pair of short dangles that are clear green single Lego pieces.

--A pair of short dangles with paper books.

--A pair of Deadly Hallows dangles.

--A pair of blue enamel squirrel dangles.

--A series of gold and rhinestone earrings that appear to have been inspired by the work of Erte.

--A bunch of quiet, simple dangles that help me to look like an adult when I need to.

                They look pretty all lined up, and I'm pretty sure the cat will have a heart attack if we have an earthquake--so many dangly sparklies!  I also recognize that I own about three pairs of "real" earrings--actual gemstones in legitimate precious metals--and the rest are precious to me entirely based on how I feel when I wear them.  Someday, decades from now, the girls will face this collection, along with my sizeable brooch collection.  Something tells me they will squabble over the ones that look like they belong to cartoon characters, while Fuzzy stands awkwardly by with the little box of heirlooms and real jewels, all neatly assigned to them, with stories attached to the boxes.  When you look at someone's costume jewelry collection, you are looking at a series of stories.

                There are the earrings that my mother gave me from the days when my aunts sold hand painted beaded earrings at outdoor markets in Ann Arbor.  There are pieces that I bought at the famous flea market next to the Santa Fe Opera the summer I met Fuzzy.  There are the earrings Fuzzy's grandmother gave me soon before she died that I once mislaid in a hotel in Las Vegas (the housekeeping department mailed them to me when I called about them--talk about great service!).  The brooches my mother bought for me on her Alaskan cruise.  The vintage scarab bracelet I wear on every job interview as a reminder that my mentors believe in me.  The bone pins from Fair with sayings that open conversations.  The brooch Kiddo made for Mother's Day in preschool.  The brooch I will someday build a Tudor ensemble around.  The cuff bracelet I selected from Fuzzy's grandmother's collection to wear on my wedding day that will someday be loaned to the girls so that she can be there, just a little.

                I tend to collect costume jewelry because it's small and personal.  It doesn't take up a lot of space, all things considered, and it's easy to travel home again having purchased it as my souvenirs.  If we ever move, the entire collection will easily fit into one small suitcase, compared to the dozen or so boxes that would be required for my books, or the couple dozen tubs of fabric.  Not every piece has a touching story, but do I really need more than "I think it's pretty, and I feel good when I wear it?"  Do any of us need more than that?

                We're all at home more now, so let's wear some sparklies, just for ourselves.  Just don't dance in long dangle earrings in front of your cats.  It might end badly.