We’re a few days into what’s usually my favorite week of the year, that tucked-away week between Christmas and New Year’s. Jury is still out on this year’s version. Normally, going to the Laundromat is a lovely pocket of time, and doing so during my tucked-away week would make it doubly so. This time? Not so much.
We’ll start with the fact that I had to put laundry in and take it out of four machines before hitting one that would actually h0ld everything and did not have any mystery detergent residue that would play havoc with sensitive skin. Add in a quick dash back home to collect more quarters, because I ended up using the industrial sized washer. On the plus side, clean bedding. On the minus side, there was the person who asked me if I was taking the week off, and, when I said that was my plan, answered that they didn’t think that was possible. Since I work for myself, my whole life is apparently “relaxing” and I do whatever I want, whenever I want. Yeah, not the way it works, person. Seriously not. Add in another unwanted interaction, and I was in a foul mood by the time I got home.
I’m not sure what drew me to the small cardboard box in the hallway closet, but I figured I could use some diversion. I knew it had some of my dad’s art supplies -now my art supplies- in it, and art time is usually a good de-grumper. I noticed the paint first, four small tubes of watercolors. Some pencils, of varying vintage and purpose, some tools that look like they’re for carving clay (can check with a friend whose husband is a sculptor) and then there was the pen. Which I may want to call The Pen.
Rather plain at first sight, black cap and silvery barrel, but still a pen. I took the cap off. Either a fountain pen or dip pen, though I can’t see where I could get the pen apart to check for where I’d refill if it’s a fountain pen. That’s when I examined the nib and found the words that caught my attention. Mont Blanc. Huh wuh? That’s a good pen, isn’t it? Quick check online and my suspicions were confirmed.
White snowflakey/star thing is present on top of cap and bottom of barrel, as well as the clip. “Mont Blanc” is on the otherwise plain nib, and “Mont Blanc Germany” is on the cap, below the clip. I’m not finding what model this is, and not sure where/how to continue the search, but when a fabulous pen falls into my lap, I’m going to take it. Whatever ink may have been in there at one time is completely gone now, and if it’s a dip pen (though I don’t see any evidence of Mont Blanc making any dip pens) then that would explain the lack of ink. This is going to require more investigation. The closest Mont Blanc store I can locate is in White Plains, which is a road trip in itself, but Westchester and tracking down the identity of a super cool pen? This may need to happen.
The paints, I think I like on their own rather than together, but this is only my smush them on the page and see what they do stage, so it doesn’t count. That’s still something hard to accept, that I can put something on a page, whether words or colors or shapes, and it doesn’t have to, and as a matter of fact, probably won’t be perfect the first time around, but treasure boxes like these are helping me deal with that.
It’s highly unlikely that I’m going to haul a box out of the storage unit and find it’s full of words, characters, plots, etc (apart from old manuscripts or boxes of books) but that same spirit of playing around, tossing something on the page and seeing what it does -What color is this, really? What mark does this make? What happens if I get this wet? Can I scratch into it for some texture?- that can only infuse new life. Time to take a few risks again and see what comes out. There may not be gesso for the written page, but there is a delete key. First drafts are meant to be messy, same as laying down a background color; that’s only the base. Many more layers are yet to come before the finished product is ready to be seen.
Typing With Wet Nails 