The Importance of a South Georgia BFF

Well, now, what would you make with a rusted tin can from a desert coulee near the Columbia River, the Christmas 1931 issue of The Household Magazine, addressed to Magnolia Windham of Fort Valley, Georgia (a gift to me from my dearest friend, Gray, who totally "gets" me), and a spiffy pair of red celluloid shoe buttons (these also turned up in a big jar of old buttons Gray gave me; I told you, she "gets" me)?  Earrings, that's what.  With extra-long gold filled wires and cartoons of pretty little girls modeling the latest fashions.  Sweet and edgy, and long enough almost to tickle your shoulders.  This is something worthy, good looking and steeped in the value acquired by lasting well past its heyday, an ordinary thing that has become a treasure.   Really, there is no such thing as "ordinary" -- it's only an illusion.  Things all around us are extraordinary, every day.

Or you could collage faces from a romantic turn-of-the-century print of Cupid and Psyche, with more rusty tin can and freshwater pearls and binding wire.

Does anyone out there remember the Benday dot?  When you look closely at these old images, you will see they are composed of many very small dots, which is how printers got half tones -- gray.

For my beloved friend Gray, who knows we are still a couple of ya-yas and if we were in the same classroom the teacher would make us sit on opposite sides of the room.  And I promise I won't make you eat anything with peaches in it, ever.