Welcome to the weekly installment of Inserts! (Hm. That makes it sound like a TV program, doesn’t it? Or something you do to the cat when it’s sick. Perhaps I’ll have to come up with a new promotional slogan…)
As so often happens with people — or, as so often happens with the people in my life, Erobintica and I flittered about the edges of the same writing circles for a long time before we crashed into the same light at the same time. Thankfully, there were no burn marks, but there was a sense (at least for me — I didn’t ask her 🙂 ) of, “Oh, hey, wow. You’re interesting. Where have you been all night?” Only to discover we’d been on the same porch, just looking different directions.
She is poet. Writer. Reader. Nature Lover. Wife.
Of course, no one is ever completely — or even partially — defined by their “titles” so I’ll let her open one of the many boxes of delights that make up Robin.
So sorry you’ve been bitten by that horrid creature (one of the few that I find truly horrid in this world).
When I mentioned (long time ago it seems) that my husband had made me a knife for Mother’s Day the other year, I’d promised you a picture. I took them, but never got around to sending. So, here they are. He didn’t make the damascus steel himself (though he has books and will probably try it one of these days – yes, he has a forge), but he shaped the blade and the brass and the handle, which is mammoth ivory. It’s a small knife, only 6 inches total. I made the one-piece leather case myself from a pattern I found on the internet (I love the internet). I wear it around my neck – nestled between my breasts – it gives me a primitive thrill. I’ll be wearing it next weekend at our primitive gathering. The little black dohicky hanging off if (just below the handle in the picture below) used to hold a pyritized ammonite fossil, but it kept falling off and I didn’t want to lose it. I need to come up with a better means of attachment.
Am hoping that this finds you feeling a wee bit better. I pulled my first tick off me on Tuesday. Hate the little buggers.
Get well soon.
[A few days later, after I asked her if it was okay to post her letter and pictures, she wrote back with this, which I just loved. The man has a forge!]: