Charming

Eight heads on a bracelet. Eight names, eight birthdays, eight people. I bought this charm bracelet for about $8 (coincidence) at a flea market on a sweltering summer day. As soon as I touched it I knew I had to have it. It represented so much to someone. Did these heads belong to the children of some lucky lady or were they the nieces and nephews of a woman who had none of her own children? Was this the bracelet of a proud grandmother or great grandmother? Was the wearer still alive and if so, why was this bracelet out of her possession? If she had passed away, why didn't someone want to have the bracelet? Where were the people who belonged to the heads? Were the heads still in touch with each other and as close as they appear on the links of the bracelet? Were their lives intertwined and clanging into each other or were they scattered all over the place, separate and distant? I am now the proud owner of this charm bracelet and whenever I look at it I imagine the noisy and happy family that the bracelet represents. I believe the rightful owner had it tucked away in a drawer and when her house was cleaned out after she passed away it was dumped into a box for the Salvation Army. Funny, I have more than one of these charm bracelets and I think the story may be similar. I will continue to look for others and salvage the heads and conjure up the people they represent because they are charming.

Who was she?

I love vintage jewelry. All vintage jewelry. Dime store plastic cracker jack trinkets, French paste baubles made to look like real diamonds, charm bracelets with tiny Eiffel towers and Venetian gondolas, bubble gum colored, pearlized, marble sized graduated beads, old buddha pendants with rubies stuck into their big bellies, rings with inscriptions so worn out the the names are missing except for a letter or two, lockets with faded sepia photographs of babies, signed pieces that I've purchased for a few dollars, only to discover they are worth 20 times what I've paid. I love it all but what I love most is the wonder and mystery of who the woman was who wore the jewelry. Was she happy? Did the piece of jewelry I now owned mean something very special to her? Where and when did she live and die? What did she look like? Who gave her the jewelry and what was their relationship? How did it end up in a store, flea market or garage sale? I've crafted many scenarios in my head and I will start sharing them here, complete with photos, so you can take a peek with me and think about the woman who owned each piece.

First things first

The kitchen sink. For me it's a place to contemplate. You can't really multitask because both of your hands are occupied either washing dishes, collecting utensils to put in the dishwasher, cleaning the innards of the chicken you are about to roast or bathing the family dog. The warm water rising up and the soap bubbles frothing around the stainless steel basin lends itself to thinking. I have the added bonus of a heat vent at the base of the cabinet at my sink so my feet are usually toasty warm. The kitchen. The heart of the home and the family and place where the comforting smell of food emanates. Whether your kitchen is grand or petite, has huge bay windows or is windowless, whether you can seat 12 for a meal or have to eat standing up, it has a sink.
I think about my grandmother at the sink. She would be 99 if she were alive today. I think about the meals she made and her love of the kitchen and the sink. Her hands were always warm and wet and bigger in proportion than the rest of her body. Her preparations didn't take long, a quick salad consisted of sliced raw vegetables. A lean meat, baked potatoes, more vegetables (usually steamed). No bread, no butter, fruit for dessert. She was health and diet conscious before it was trendy. She took supplements I couldn't pronounce and teaspoons of blackstrap molasses and cod liver oil. I think about how she would be in the world today.
She is with me a lot.

Welcome

Well, I think I created a blog. This will be a forum for ideas (old and new), musings, opinions (mostly mine),thoughts, dreams, reactions and favorite things (totally mine). The Kitchen Sink refers to the place I am standing when my thoughts take on a life of their own, where I am most creative and where I can dream in color. The window at my kitchen sink affords me an almost endless view of green and trees and wonder. Thank you for turning on the water!