Mea Culpa

I owe an apology to pawn shop owners all over the world. I've said (more than once) that I don't find great deals (or nice people) in major metropolitan area stores, only those in smaller towns (implied, anyway). I do believe that maybe, possibly, probably I was ... wr ... I was wro ... Argh, I was wrong!

Look at this beauty.  I found it locally, and though I don't yet know just how good a deal it is, it's right up my alley - deco yet modern, hangs well, moves even better. The pendant is 2" long, feels heavier than its size would indicate, on 18" of Italian gold chain. Upper part (and chain) is marked 14K, but the dangly parts also tested that way - plus I got such wonky (high) numbers with the front of it (white part) that I suspect it's cased in platinum. A quarter carat (each) of diamonds and emeralds, too. I think it's a "marriage" - the main white-and-gold section is better made than the lower, possibly part of a bracelet, with necklace bits swinging below.  Perhaps inherited but broken pieces, memories specially united for someone to wear.

So why the apology to the brokers? Because though it was marked as 8K and priced that way, though it was accompanied by a gemologist's certification that said the tag was one fourth its replacement value, the clerks didn't pull it or reprice it when my non-poker face and my darned-ethical mouth gave its hallmarks away.  (Yes, I know it's illegal to change things in most places, but it happened to me more than once before I found that out!)  The clerks were nice, helpful, and even funny.  Even better, when I asked (always ask), they even took 40% off the tagged price (as they almost always will) taking it to a 6-to-1 ratio!

Am I wondering what's wrong with it? Waiting for the other shoe to drop?  You bet. As a matter of fact, I'd already scheduled an appointment with an appraiser for next Tuesday (inherited and bought pieces need realistic insurance), and I'm going to add this to the pile despite my nerves.  It's just that my curiosity, as usual, is so much stronger than my fears.

As is my sense of fair play. Even if this turns out to be something without a story, or just worth what I paid, it's still beautiful. And I won't let my poor-mouthing pawn shops stand. If you know what you're looking at, or for, if you have a little more money than you're usually willing to pay, if you're willing to comb and be patient (just like the thrifts and yard sales) and remember to haggle over the price, then you can find some super people ... and fabulous things.

Stories

I have two friends, both of whom I've mentioned more than once (though I never gave them Bunny names).  Recently, we embarked on a writing project, a novel, that we are tag-teaming.  (Well, they're tag-teaming, and I'm more just tagging ... it's been a long year so far).  Anyway, one of them went to a writer's conference over the weekend and pitched the story to agents.  Plural.  Yes, they're interested ... and yes, I'm hyperventilating.

Also recently, in part because of this blog, and in part because of that project, I've begun a fiction book of my own - a rather creepy, fairly funny mystery (I hope series) featuring ... well, I don't want to jinx it, but suffice it to say neither of the main characters will surprise you if you've been reading this at all.  They took off on their own this week, after a brainstorming session with my sister.  As soon as I stop tagging and write up to my commitment (see above) I will open their door again, see where they've gotten to, and begin this book - if only to see what kind of wild chase those two lead me on.

And on Friday, I found yet another story - not my own but fascinating nonetheless.

This gorgeous guy I found at an antique mall, one we hit several times a year, specifically for this vendor, actually - an older couple who loves watches, Edwardian jewelry, and anything that sparkles.  (Sound like someone you know?)  She called it a "frat pin" but I'm pretty sure it's from high school, probably the local one, which, apparently, split into a north-south (or east-west, I can't remember), sometime after 1906, when this person graduated.

A person who was probably female, I'm guessing.  See the initials on the back?  "MEH"?  I'm thinking guys didn't usually pick that flowery script style.  Could be wrong.  Mom could've set it up.  But probably not.

The other thing I love is the "gold" stamp.  No karat, just "gold."  So cool, and so turn-of-the-century.  (It's 10K, by the way, though 9K is also standard.  Also note the c-catch - not very safe, but very old.)

This piece tells a tale, and I love it.  I love all the stories I find.  When I mentioned this to my vendor, she smiled, but when I pointed to the ... oh, about 1.5 carat diamond on her finger the smile became real.  "I traded a 1957 Buick LeSabre for this."  She glanced up.  "I already had a Cadillac in the driveway and I figured the Buick would just sit in the garage, right?  So I traded a guy."  She turned her hand and admired the sparkle.  "Best deal I ever made."  Her husband didn't bat an eye but looked on her lovingly and proudly.

We all have stories to tell, some our own, some other people's.  Women have stories about family, work, even pure fantasies, but I'm noticing that the ones that are the strongest, the ones that bring those smiles are the ones connected to the gold and the diamonds and the tourmaline they wear most often.  Jewelry, I think, is so tangible, so powerful (according to the ancients) that it can channel magic.  And magic is the essence of a good story.

What to see for yourself?  Next time you're on the subway or in church or just sitting next to a woman on a park bench, admire her ring or her watch or her earrings (careful with pendants, guys!) and ask her to tell you its story.  There's not a woman on the planet who won't know what you mean - and who won't tell you about it.

And smile to herself.

Paying Dues ... And Overdues

I flew home Wednesday night.  Immediately Thursday, I began tallying receipts (and mileage logs) for taxes.  Luckily I'd sorted them before I left, because if I hadn't I'd be dead right now instead of just brainless.

But taxes are done.  And they're filed.  And I'm still alive to tell the tale.

Not that there's much to tell, if tale it is.  We'll get some back, mostly because my tutorials are down but we withhold on the Big Lug's paychecks - based on the my numbers two years ago (a lot fewer this year) so I never have to estimate and send quarterly payments.  We won't adjust the current status, even though I don't think it'll get much better, because my mother left me just enough money to scare me about next year's filing.  And the following year the Lug's office moves miles and miles away, so he gets a relocation thing.  Besides, I've been ranting for years that tax cuts and government borrowing go together like gasoline and fire ... and I sometimes hate being right (especially since those cuts are going to expire this year - which shows that lack of foresight is a bipartisan trait).  Let's just say I don't want to get caught with my pants down, and since no one - no one - has any idea what's going to happen next, I'll keep my bloomers where they belong.

And so I continue the fiscal circle of life.

New this month - updating my great finds (see, see, see?), plus I've added a Money Walk counter (no, not like the songs!).  Yep, I decided two days ago that I've been giving lip service to exercise and I'm looooong overdue for a butt-whipping.  So I walked from work to a local Wendy's (chili is good) and found several coins scattered like grain in an empty parking lot.  Today I walked (in the rain!) from home to the store and back, and though I found nothing but a surprising (and disturbing) amount of trash, I got 3 miles under my belt (which, hopefully, will tighten it).  I want to get back to goal weight (or less), so I'll make this a regular thing.  Although I move quickly on my suburban sidewalks (which is fine - who drops stuff there?), I've vowed to budget some time to hunt the lots and the phones and the vending machines and the bleachers (if I walk a different way) and the bus stops.  Who knows what else I'll find?

And (hopefully) how much I'll lose ...

Diary of a Hunt

Day 1.  Got in yesterday afternoon, got the rental car, collapsed but stayed awake because I'm now living with night owls.  Overslept this morning.  Got a late start.  Drove an hour.  Didn't make it to the actual Round Top because the Event is huge - spread out for 10 square miles.  Stopped at the first place I saw (La Bahia), then a mile or two farther (County Line).  Found a great Hen & Rabbit salt shaker (milk glass) and some jewelry bits, but best part was the nice people who gave me so much help and information!  Note to self:  the main show starts on date but the satellite shows start the Friday before ... adjust schedule!

Day 2.  Dropped some info off with people at previous day's shows, stopped at tiny field-event and found some 14K sanddollar earrings for my sister (who loves Mom's two sanddollar necklaces she left her).  In same bag was hefty scrap of white gold necklace that will pay for all, plus 14K CZ studs for one of nieces.  Then went to first big show.  In parking lot, gust of wind slammed rental car door into SUV's fender.  Paint gone on his, 3" dent on mine.  Wrote a note, taped it to window, almost burst into tears.  Couple hours later, after lunch, finally got a bit of excitement back and bought a tanzanite set and some service pins.  But I've never had an accident that did any damage that was even vaguely my fault.  I'm depressed.

Day 3.  Went to first show I had to pay for.  Didn't expect to actually buy anything, and I didn't.  But met some of the most interesting people, including Paul and his wife who are Cowboy Action Shooters (they go in costume, and everything - she was getting Victorian jewelry).  We stood and talked for almost an hour!  Then I had the best smoked chicken I'd ever eaten.  And found two vendors with gold charms that were so fun I think that will be my next Big Thing.  But there was enough platinum, too, to make me sigh - this is the year!

Day 4.  Need to do laundry.  Think I picked through enough smaller places, so stuck in the area.  I usually hunt thrift stores but not usually as good as where I am, so went to an antique store (found a 10K sorority pin for reasonable, not bargain).  Then went to pawn shops, not expecting much since they're so overpriced in my neck of the woods.  But holy cow.  Bought my first diamond studs, and found a tanzanite ring that has different cut but complements the set I bought earlier.  Running out of allowance, but couldn't resist one more place.  There it was - a platinum and diamond Lady Hamilton watch - no matching band (it's a Spiedel) but the watch ... perfect.  And too expensive.  Need to think about it.

Day 5.  Brother in.  Easter with the family.  Pretty great.  Think I know how to get the watch.

Day 6.  I got it, I got it!  Negotiated and scrapped out some gold!  Got it for almost half the tagged price!  Needs a cleaning, probably a dial reconditioning, but for $185 (counting all the tax) I think I got a fabulous deal!  It kept the smile on my face for the rest of the day, while we went through Mama's storage locker.  Sad, but fun, too.  Found a ton of stuff from the grandparents, some wonderful memory things, and lots and lots of the practical, which my nieces will need to set up their first apartments very soon.  It was a very good day.

Day 7.  Getting ready to go back into the fray.  Wearing a ratty T-shirt this time (I've learned).  I fly out tomorrow, which is good.  I miss the Big Lug.  And I miss my routine.  I'm ready to get back to the real world.  Until next year, of course.