There's Gold in Them Thar ... Yards!

Since ancient times, gold has held our entire species captive. Sure, it's useful - the most ductile and malleable metal around, easily alloyed with just about any other metal, doesn't easily corrode or disintegrate, conducts electricity like an uber-shepherd - but, honestly, we love it because it's stunningly gorgeous. Since it's also worth a bloody fortune right now, its desirability quotient has shot the moon. All you need to do is know what you're looking at.

Make a checklist. First, simply look for hallmarks. These are usually inside the band in rings, hidden in the rear of the design in pendants (or on the jump ring - the thing that connects the pendant to the chain), on or near the clasp of chains, on the stem or the back of the charm on pins and stickpins, or on the posts or wires of earrings. American jewelry is marked with symbols we know well - 10K (or KT), 14K, 18K are the most familiar - but other countries mark with the content numbers (416, 583 or 585, and 750 are the corresponding symbols for our "big three") or other letters ("C" or "CT" instead of K's). They're all the same thing - pure gold is 24K, and each numeric mark is its decimal version of ours, so 10K divided by 24K = .41666666 which is why it's "416." (It also helps calculate value - more on that next time.) Unfortunately, with foreign gold you might also see plants, animals, ladies, or even anchors or castles, too (or instead of). It gets confusing sometimes. (See this web site for the UK stuff, and this site for a decent overall.)

You're not done. There are legibility issues. Many times these marks are so tiny they look like a fold in the metal to the naked eye, or they might be double stamped (maker's error) or scratched up or worn away by repeated use (my wedding band is barely legible), or maybe they're hidden in a too-elaborate design, or the piece was never imprinted at all (if it was never intended for interstate sale or it's just too old to require a mark).

Did I say "simple?"

Okay, just memorize it, little by little. Learn the imprints - at least the various countries' hallmarks for gold, silver, and platinum so you can tell them apart. And understand what is and what isn't a good number - while any set of three digits might be gold marks, they won't always be. I found a piece marked "835" (corresponds to .835) which, when you multiply by 24K is almost (almost) 20K, but it's not quite. That should have been a dead giveaway - that, and the fact that 20K, a rare karat strength to begin with, is usually marked "833." (It was silver.) And if you read "915" on the post of an earring, it could be 22K gold, but it's far more likely that you are reading a misprint upside-down - "STG" (sterling) without the top strip looks just like a reversed "915." (I know this from experience - I bought a pair a few weeks back. Oh, and 22K is mostly marked 916, even though it's 915 sometimes - don't you want to strangle those markers?) So, the moral to the story is, if you encounter something marked with "835" or "915," don't pay much for it (the earrings were 50 cents) so that if it's gold you're made in the shade, but if it's silver, you can inherit it forward to your favorite charity shop, or wear it and love it as I do.

We're not done.

About 150 years ago, some enterprising wunderkind discovered plating, and jewelry was one of the first places we used it. Easiest way to figure that out, of course, is to find "1/20 12K" (or whatever karat) instead of just "12K" on the piece. That "1/20" means that the top 1/20 mm of the piece is 12K gold (or it's 1/20th of the weight - again, kill). A small bit is gold, so is worth something, of course ... if you have a strong back and a lot of time. (You might also see "GF," "GP," "HGE" or even "gold plated," but it all means the same - it's just covered with gold.) I buy it, but I'd better love it to pay more than a dollar or so. (See this guy for those marks.) By the way, "14KP" doesn't mean plated. The "P" stands for "pure." And "Plat" or "Pt" means "platinum" - not my lovely gold, but just as good (here is a decent overall for Americans).

Oh, and to complicate things further, there are pieces out there that have been "after market" printed - in other words, stamped with "14K" but just big, fat fakes. I have one myself. Maybe more than one ...

It's a jungle out there, people. But there truly are many ways to tell what you might be holding.

Don't trust your eyes. Carry a loupe, and use it. I'm actually allergic to nickel so I used to just tell the sellers when they get anxious or excited, but it didn't work - they thought I knew what I was doing, and if they think you're a dealer they will wrangle accordingly. A few months back, I bought a good, 20X magnifier that's blue, plastic, and hangs on a keychain. Hard to look like a pro with that thing. And offer to look at any other pieces once you've bought the one you have - at the place where I found the silver Tiffany earrings, the seller actually had some things behind the table because she realized there were stamps but she couldn't read them with her naked eye. I hadn't used the loupe because the price was so good ($2) but I used it to read a glass mark at her neighbor's table (neighborhood yard sale, in a parking lot). She saw me and asked, so I read them to her. All were either unmarked or gold plated - good names, some of them, so I felt pretty good about helping her out. I'd like to think I had some forward Karma, there.

Just a note - if you do see something that was a mark but is wiped out or blurry, negotiate a lower price; I always figure it's silver and try to price it accordingly.

Gilt or gold? Use that loupe to look for scuff marks, too. Plating wears off with time, leaving discolored and (usually under magnification) obvious shallow holes. But make sure they really are holes - the $5 earrings I bought in Arkansas were blackened and a bit beat up so I figured they were plated (mark was only partially there, and easily misread), but decided to gamble because I couldn't see the edge of the plating. A thorough cleaning revealed they were solid 14K gold. (Author's note - leave them alone a bit because they darkened up again ... plated, darn it, with gold posts only.)

My jewelry tutor also said that heavy and solid probably means plated, while filigreed and airy stands a better chance at golddom - what jeweler in his right mind would mismark something made with enough gold to weigh down your hand, right? (And with earrings, a stainless steel post is almost assuredly a dead giveaway.)

Look-alike or the real thing? First I weigh it in my palm. Gold has a certain heft to it - but I can't explain it because I have to feel it. I'll run a chain through my fingers - it's silky. (I spent a lot of time at good jewelry stores and antique malls unabashedly feeling up the gold.) Second, I have a gold wedding band, bi-colored, that never leaves my hand (except when working with power tools). I use it as a control - I always maneuver the piece so that it sits right on top of the yellow part of the band, then I compare both the color and the texture of any suspected pieces. Anything too orange or too light, too smooth or too pitted, I think twice.

Color, by the way, is complicated - "green" gold, "rose" gold, "white" gold, and "yellow" gold, all have their own shades and glints. Higher karats can be darker, too, as can lower (depends on how much of the alloy is copper). And gold from one country or region might be slightly oranger or lighter than in others - did you know the gold in the California Gold Rush was only a surprise because the people there thought it was pyrite (fool's gold) since it wasn't the same color as the Georgia gold (where the previous gold rush had occurred)?

Confused yet?

I was, for months, but some persistance and lots of good examples helped. Truth is, gold is out there in more quantity than I ever dreamed, just waiting to be found. Like anything else worth doing, it takes practice, patience, and a few mistakes - okay, a lot of mistakes. But since I refuse to risk more than a few dollars a pop, especially for those "too good to be true" pieces, I'm rarely disappointed. And I'm getting much, much better.

Just wait 'til I start prospecting!

On Being a Duck

Everyone knows about the big stuff that can hit you - major appliance breaking down and flooding the basement (that was last fall), parent with a terminal illness (that was this week), or even a loss of job or change of career path (that's still coming). My mother used to tell me that those were just the warm up, that life was full to the brim of little stresses and little stressors, and that they are the ones that will drive you crazy. She called it, "nibbled to death by ducks."

I really do get that. It never calms down, and it never stops hitting you. July is almost over, and I'm nowhere near where I want to be on the house-to-home, I'm nowhere near where I should be in the bank, and I'm not even where I must be with my job. It's just been one thing after another after another - the headaches I always have all summer have pulled me down, and the two trips (with another to come in August) have disrupted any routine I might have carved out of my busy work schedule. Even this morning, I'm racing here because I must leave in an hour so I can hit the post office and mail paperwork before driving 30 minutes to my 11 - 12:30 tutorial, after which I'll careen to the copy place to make materials for my 2:30 - 4:30 class, eating lunch in the car, probably. This morning already I've written my morning pages, done some dishes, pilled the cat, ordered my diamond tester, and taken a long walk (I've been neglecting that, and I'm feeling it). Yet to go - breakfast, a shower, and this quick post.

Somehow, I've let them get to me, all those little taps and bites from life. I've let them weigh me down, let them wear me out. But I know what I need to do, and by taking that walk this morning, and another yesterday, by remembering my priorities instead of letting the mosquitoes distract me, I'm going to beat this. I will finish things - slower, maybe, and only one chunk at a time, but I will finish.

And no matter what, I will not fall apart. I will not let them nibble me to death. All I have to do is stop being the victim ... and start being the duck.

Timing

Has this been a week, or what? Flew back on Monday (crazed by airline-stress), had a first class on Tuesday (driven insane getting materials together), and helped a friend go through some jewelry on Wednesday (finally a fun time!). And did I mention both the a/c for the house and my car went out? Today, so far, I've fielded an inspector who should have been here four months ago when the electrical work was done, made appointments for car (house fixed), watered every tree and herb in the yard, and scanned and printed more materials for the second-day-of-the-new class (which I need to go to very soon). Hardly a moment to myself, so I'll try to sum up what's on my mind:

Look closely.

No, not here - at your rings, bracelets, necklaces, stickpins, and cufflinks. Yes, the ones you already have in your drawers, the ones you're seriously considering bagging up and selling at that yard sale. Hey, you bought it for nothing, or your mom wore it (and you know how cheap she was!), or your dad accidentally hammered it, so it must be crap, right? Wrong!

I hit six yard sales in my in-law's territory last Saturday, and spent exactly 55 cents. For that money I got a bunch of mad scientist things to play with (studs with clear stones or dangly things, all crap but useful), a made-mostly-of-plastic fob watch (nice fob, though), a stray clip-on earring that might be topaz (pretty), and ... a pair of 14K studs (hearts, to match my bracelet) and the entire inner workings of a Lady Waltham pocket (or pendant) watch. The studs weigh about a gram, and are clearly marked (that's about $18 in scrap value alone), and the watch bits will probably earn about $10-20 on eBay (if I so desire).

Look closely.

My friend, too, said her stuff was "one step away from the trash" on Wednesday - no sentimental value for most of it, and no expectations on her part. Based on this, I figured I'd see costume (got it), singles and broken (got them, too), and nice vintage watches. What I didn't expect (and neither did she) was well over half of it was gold or platinum, set with diamonds, topaz, rubies, and goodness knows what else. Seriously. A vintage watch with a rose-gold bezel and band. A 14K ring and necklace of opal and diamond. A pendant watch with an unknown case (gold?) but with a (well-marked) Swiss company's mechanisms. True, not all was well-marked - some had no markings at all, or marks that were rubbed nearly out, or marks inside clasps (a string of pearls that was to die for), or covered by ring sizers (which is why I removed them) - and, frankly, some was the ugliest stuff I've ever seen. But it was not junk.

It might have been, at first glance, though. That's why I'm so incredibly glad I had that lesson last week, because the second look showed me a sharpness in the stones of the first piece, and put me on point like a bird dog - a huge ring, one of those from the 'sixties that was sort of shaped like an alien's head, inset with nine diamonds. The gold alone ... wow.

Look closely.

I'm not judging in any way, shape, or form, here - remember, I didn't know until I began my quest that I had at least five pairs of gold earrings, necklaces, and rings. I had never looked! And as for our parents, well, of course they have no taste - the hair alone clued us in, right? (Except that our kids are saying the same things about us right now.)

Look closely.

We're going to have a cleaning party soon, then take them to my buddy to assess all the values. I could tell gold from gilt, CZ from diamond, but I have no idea what the stunning platinum (900) and diamond wedding set is worth. That she'll sell most of it, I have no doubt. But at least she won't get hosed.

And she won't sell it for 10 cents.

Flying

Worse today for posting. All family, all day, then flying again. Why, oh why don't I take this blog into consideration when I'm scheduling this stuff?

I'll be glad to get home.

Spinning and Weaving

I'm late, I'm late! I teach a class today, pack, fly out for the Big Lug's family reunion. It's early right now, and I can't guarantee I'll return before we leave, but I'm still stoked - and exhausted - from my jewelry tutorial yesterday.

First, I'd written down 2:30 pm, but I forgot I moved it earlier, so it didn't start well - I do this (tutor) for a living, remember, so I was appalled that I would screw something like that up. Since he had an appointment scheduled for 2:30, he graciously (I mean it) rescheduled for about an hour later. When I showed back up (after grading essays at Starbucks down the street) I was already frazzled. But after a bit of a slow start (I was unable to put into words what I wanted from the hour) we dove right in.

I knew this field was complex, but I had no idea just how complex until yesterday. However, what I was finally able to ask for was some of the easiest things to spot, the most common tricks of the trade, so that "I won't get hosed" when I buy jewelry. And he came through with almost everything I wanted, and things I didn't even know I wanted - doubling (visual check for several stones), dispersion (I don't need an expensive dual tester for diamonds, really), doublets (though I didn't get a real one - couldn't find one in the store), then color zoning and specific gravity and ... seriously, I learned more in one hour, learned it with my eyes and my hands (where it will stick). We even talked about gold (which, apparently, I have an eye for since I took in some of my iffy and ugly finds to put into the pot for the fee - $25 in stuff yielded $150 in cash). I did slip at the end, there, though - forgot the basics of plated (worn spots) and misidentified something. I felt I lost some credibility as a good student. I was tired.

But I have the threads. Now I must learn to wind it into my life, my hunting. Hopefully the final few minutes of our session tells the tale - the "Rainbow Ring" (not mother's ring) from the flea market a couple of weeks ago gave him the opportunity for a pop quiz. I found out that indeed, all five are real stones, and that it was a bargain at $30. And that's exactly what I wanted to learn to do.

Fine Whines

Earning money is hard. Oh, not the work - I'm always okay with work - but the calls, the schmoozing, the assurance to parents that I know what I'm doing. Increasingly, even when I'm presented with a fait accompli (a student who's asked for me specifically, for example) I have to do a ton of calling - scheduling, rescheduling, juggling, even butt-kissing - and about 30% of the parents still change their minds. Usually right before the first session. Especially these days. Despite all of the rigamarole, even with the default rate looming, I'm pretty well set for the rest of the summer - bill-paying, over-paying, and London-saving are all secure.

I should be happy. Instead I'm tired.

I don't know if it's age or hormones or burnout, but I want something a bit more ... idiot proof. Don't get me wrong: I'm grateful - part of me is dancing in my chair because I'll survive another summer after all (and grateful that I trusted Mama Angel). But another, bigger (this year) part is snivelling that I've paid my dues, that I deserve better, easier, or at least a raise. Paid sick days. Paid vacation days. An even, non-bumpy, non-seasonal schedule.

No job is perfect. I'm not stupid - I really do know that everyone has deadlines, scheduling conflicts, late nights at some point or another. And I know I'm better off than much of the country right now - I have a job that pays me better than the average Bunny, one that keeps us solvent, and me with an age group I truly adore. And yet ... I just can't seem to shake it this time.

This week will tell the tale. I searched for jobs in my area, ones that will match my current salary (within a year or two, in some cases), give me benefits, and not interfere with my weekend hunting. I found fifteen without breaking a sweat. But they won't simply come to me; no, I have to work some more - writing a resume, posting said resume, more phone calls ... things requiring more focus and energy than I can seem to muster lately. Only time will tell if I actually do it.

Truth is, what I really want is a lottery win, a forgotten relative leaving me her fortune, a small-but-tasteful genie in one of the bottles I find at a flea market - you know, a rescue.

But that would make me a Damsel in Distress, wouldn't it?

Yeah, right - like that's gonna happen.

Crossing Over

In the beginning, there was the Way, and the Way was good. But then the Bunny started to complicate things ...

Earn it, Find it, Win it, Steal it, and Inherit it. Simple, right? It felt good, in the first few months, to synthesize our entire personal economic system into those five, streamlined tenets. I'm finding so much crossover, though, it's not even funny.

For example - I love finding things, and I seem to be pretty good at it. But I've just made an appointment (next week) with a tutor - a jewelry tutor. He's been in the business for nearly a half-century (with his dad, and now his son), and knows his stuff. I'm hiring him for only an hour, but I know what I want and he knows what he knows, so it will be time more than well spent. And money more than well spent, as well, though it will take all my allowance, and then some. (I thought I billed high!) How will I pay for it? Why, taking advantage of the gold prices by selling back some of my yuckier (or now-broken) finds, that's how. Luckily, my elves have been hard at work there. I figured I've got a 400% profit ahead, more if (as I hope) he pays out higher in trade.

Also, I entered a contest this week, one that not only required me to write an essay and get some pictures taken, but had me running like a maniac for signatures for the entry form.

Oh yeah, one more thing - cutbacks in my hours, plus no raise (in forever), have forced a (serious this time) day-job search.

So Finding is taking some Stealing, Winning is taking some Earning, and Earning can't exist these days without Finding. What's next - Inheritance by contest? (Not so far-fetched, in most families, huh?)

The interconnections are amazing, aren't they? I guess I shouldn't be surprised: though most professional economists won't say it aloud, it's all a chaotic system - unprincipled, unpredictable, and unmanageable.

It's also infinitely fascinating and endlessly amusing. I can't wait to see what wild hair (or Hare) hatches. And I really can't wait to see what I learn on Wednesday next.

Tomorrow Never ... You Know

Well, the house isn't exactly clear, but our clothes closet is. Good start. Acid Trip spent Friday here, with Electric Kid. While I know I don't need to entertain them as if they're guests, I love spending time with them, and don't do enough of it. So while he surfed the web, sharing some very cool things in the world of computers (blogging, email, IM) with me, I sorted through every single piece of jewelry, bagging about a pound for donation and twice that for eBay (soon). I kept much less silver than I culled out, but I kept all the gold. Duh.

Speaking of which ... Saturday the Big Lug had to go to his tobacconist's (not his pipe maker's) so, since I knew there was a weekly flea market just outside town, I rousted him early - he dumped me into my kind of heaven then tooled off to his. Poor thing. He came back looonnnnnngggg before I was ready to go, but since I was almost out of money, it wasn't a tragedy. We both skimmed the second half of the crowded field (on 4th of July yet!), had dinner at an amazing Japanese steakhouse, and went home to sort (and clean) our treasures.

He had a pipe (truly lovely). I had two 14K rings ($33), one older and maybe gold ring ($2), a sterling pendant (to match a fabulous silver/malachite bracelet I have, $5), and three vintage ladies' watches ($25).

Yes, three! I am seriously addicted to those 40's and 50's timepieces - I may never wear new ones again! Well, okay, if I'm wrestling with the rototiller, or taking out my aggressions on quarry rocks, maybe I'll pull out my Timex. But even with jeans and t-shirts, even in a hardhat, those pretty bracelet-like things make me feel so glamorous, so dainty, so feminine. Kind of embarrassing, but true.

So, anyway, I pulled off the backs of all three; the Benrus has a 17-jewel Swiss movement and 10K GP bezel, the Gotham (never heard of the maker but it's cute) has 7 (seven) jewels and is 10K GP (with, possibly, 2 diamonds - they fluoresce that way but it's filthy), and the Bulova has a 21-jewel movement (the band and bezel aren't marked with anything but names, which is weird for that level of sophistication). Bulova's coding system includes letters for years, so I know it's from 1956, and its bracelet is original and gorgeous (as is the Gotham's). The Benrus has a Twist-o-Flex band (not original) but I have a sentimental thing with Benrus's. They need cleaning, too. I'm keeping an entire family of watch-cleaners in business up north.

As for the gold rings ... more on those later, once I've researched them.

Sunday I spent sick. Too much sun, too much pollen, too much of things that make even a Barbarian Bunny like me sneeze and cough and blow a lot of snot. I still feel a bit Weebly today (I wobble but I don't fall down) but I'll survive. Needless to say, we didn't get much done yesterday. The Big Lug is willing to keep going on the clear-out, though, at a more stretched-out pace. I'm okay with that because I can tell he's serious. We'll probably be done - really done, not a three-day blowout - by the end of the summer.

See? Even when things go wrong, they go right.

For now, though, no cleaning - just fluids, rest, and soup for dinner. I foolishly ran a few errands this morning, including one to my Monday-is-discount-day thrift store (six soon-to-be-stunning-after-I-clean-more-than-one silver plated goblets from Portugal for $4.50!); I'm too pooped to do more than I've already done. I'll watch TV and conserve my energy for class tomorrow.

That means no CNBC. I mean it!

Whatever

I woke at 4 am, went to Starbucks, wrote, went to mail a contest entry (essay) that's due Monday (who schedules these things over a holiday weekend?), hit Home Depot for a part to fix one of the toilets, and taught a 3 1/2 hour class. I'm wiped out.

But tomorrow, the plan is to start the Grand Egress - both of us will go through every box, every closet, every shelf, and pull and send a good chunk of it to Salvation Army, Goodwill, or any other worthy-cause thrift shop. By Monday (so the agenda goes) our house will be that much lighter. Or the Big Lug will weasel out of it - again - and it won't change.

I wish I could work up a good give-a-crap.

I'm never getting up that early again. Ever.