Rockin' and Rollin'

As things would have it, yet another interest has invaded my feeble ADHD brain.  My  jewelry making, lends itself to an interest in gemstones, which lends itself to an interest in rocks in general. 
The next thing I know, I am the proud owner of :

1) a rock tumbler 
2) various grits to go through the 4 phases
3)a flex drill 
4) a set of diamond tipped bits
5) a tile saw (which we already owned)

Not really a big investment at all. Far less than the tools for making jewelry, not to mention purchasing all the beads, findings, etc.
...all because my husband showed up one day with an interesting looking greenish rock he found on the road.

A family emergency had us heading back to California, with prayers on our lips and terror in our hearts. Both of those are still in residence. We stayed at my younger son’s, even though for the most part, he was not home, as he can typically be gone for days while working. He is a hunting guide on an enormous historical land grant ranch (The Tejon). So we stayed in his immaculately clean and organized, employee-housing abode upstairs (really long steep ones, IMO), filled with his treasures and houseplants. He has both an amazing green thumb and an artistic eye. He cooks. He's witty. In fact, now that I think about it, he's a helluva catch. If any of you happen to be a sweet, kind, beautiful lady who enjoys the outdoors and wants to meet a really good man, he's the One. No vegans or activists need inquire. Seriously, he is one of the last really good guys. I am completely objective in this.
Also, if he reads this, he is probably completely mortified right about now. 
Sorry, Bear.

 While taking Heath out for a potty break, we discovered the rocks on his road looked much different than the ones from our road in Oregon.

When the day came to make the 13 hour trek back to the Oregon ranch, which we have always driven straight through, only stopping for fuel, and Carl’s Jr in Bishop, we left at 5 am, made it to Tehachapi to meet up with half of our friend’s family for breakfast, so we weren’t the least bit hungry when we hit Bishop…well, not speaking for Heath of course, who was really looking forward to the stop, where he always enjoys a “puppy patty”.

With a rapturous expression, full of hope, he stuck his head between the seats as we approached his beloved fast food diner. His face dropped as we passed the driveway, and fell further as he saw it disappearing behind us. Poor sheppie.


 

...but...wait!

The morning’s cup of tea forced us to the side of the road, shortly after passing a wild donkey herd in Nevada, which I failed to get pictures of because TheMan was driving at 80 mph and they were on his side. I tried though. I really did. But mostly it was a shot of TheMan’s ear hair so I opted out. While off the road, I found a few glorious rocks in a ditch. I began to feel that tingle of excitement one gets, when a really cool, and intriguing new hobby starts worming it’s way into your heart.



Bypassing Carl’s also had the effect of being ravenous  by the time we hit Hawthorne. I found a small pizza place there on Maps, so we stopped. It was WELL worth the wait. What a shame that a great place like Old Nevada Pizza is sequestered away from the world in tiny Hawthorne. We decided to drive on a wee bit and pull off on Walker Lake to eat.


We were unavoidably delayed for over an hour, collecting the bitchenest rocks I have collected so far. I even pulled my shoes and socks off, to step into the lake and seek treasures there. If you’ve ever been to Nevada, you would understand that it is full of all sizes of sharp rocks...right on into the lake. Two steps in, I was trapped. The pain radiating from my soles to my brain was foreign to me, as I spent the majority of my life barefooted, even riding barefoot, unless spurs were required. I have been known to jump over a wall and land on broken glass without injury, because my feet were so tough. Living on the ranch for over a decade, where what isn’t sharp rocks, is goat-heads, I developed the bad habit of only going barefoot in the house. My feet are no longer the feet I used to know. TheMan was forced to rescue me by helping me limp painfully from shard to shard and spike to spike until I could lay down and let him use my socks to wipe the "not-quite-sand-sized" rocks off of my feet and then put my boots back on over them, while I laid on my back with my feet in the air, so he didn’t have to bend over. 
(He was already stiff from driving. Getting old sucks and don’t let anyone tell you differently) 
After this little activity, he had to help me sit up, roll to a hip and pull me to my feet, which I didn’t do very quietly. I am pretty sure the young couple strolling the water’s edge didn’t mean to snort so loudly, and I didn’t let it offend me. I no longer have any pride.

The rest of the drive home was uneventful, as Heath enjoyed some jerky we stopped and got for him and I alternated snoring with imagining what my rocks might look like after we experiment with the tumbler, should Fed Ex ever decide to deliver it to us.
Meantime, stop by the store and see what's new! Like these. I love these!
Etsy Shop 

in silver

That is about all I have to report.
As an aside, I want to mention, please don’t panic about this pandemic. Humanity has survived far worse and although we must be vigilant, don’t give up living in fear of dying.

Til next time!

Me & The Heathen