Yes, These are Really Our Sheets
I just finished another pair of earrings, (you know… to save my sanity), and what better place to photograph them than on my pillow case?
These I made for a friend who has had even more hip struggles than I have (not you, Paul, unless you want a pair; it’s Robyn!) in the past few decades.
If I drank, I’d raise a glass to Paul, Robyn & all Mr. Ditmars & all the angels I’ve met, while trying to learn what the heck was wrong with me (save your wise cracks…) & how to process what i was learning and how to hash it all out— for two years now. Most of them I met on the Facebook group called Understanding Femoroacetabular impingement. Really I should have started my own group called, “Chop Those Puppies OUT & Get’cha Self Some Titanium Jobbies, Before Your Whole Life is Ruined,” but instead… I started making jewelry.
For all you who suffer… These studs are for you! (ok they’re not studs, but nothing that rhymes with “dangles” could allow my blog to stay in the Family-rated section.)
Also giving a big shout out (“heeeey-hooooo,” circa 1992) to Eric, my new physical therapist who’s forced to spend nine hours a week with me (punishment in & of itself) and upon whom I cry no less than twice per visit. Seven times was a record for me, but i think i had some other non-hip things going on too that day, like having to wear the same clothes for a fifth day in a row & wondering if I’d ever have clean socks to wear again. You might be saving my life, Eric. Please thank (wife) Mary for me for allowing you to spend the extra energy it must cost you to deal with me. Someday I’ll teach your children to make jewelry as a sign of my undying gratitude to both of you.
Oh yes. And Skip. Dear Skip…
Someday I will go back to being the non-wench I used to be.
Poor, sweet Skip. Man of God. Heart of gold.