This is my husband’s line after John McCain has been criticized for not knowing how many houses he owns: “Has anybody asked Michelle Obama how many shoes she owns? Would she know, say, within half a dozen pairs?” Not quite the same thing, dear. What woman knows how many pairs of shoes she has? It’s completely unreasonable to expect an accurate count. So, can you tell that my husband and I are on opposite sides of the political spectrum?
But there is one thing that I do know: I don’t have enough bracelets, and I want more. These would do just fine.
The trouble with bracelets is that I always think that I love bracelets and that I will wear bracelets all the time, but I don’t. Wear them, that is. I do love them, but I don’t wear them. I especially think that I especially love chunky, noisy, funky bracelets, but those are the kind that I especially do not wear. For one thing, I usually don’t wear bracelets (or much jewelry at all) when I’m just hanging around the house — especially when I’m
on the computer, since dangling beads and keyboards do not mix. When I go to church or meetings or other quiet places, I don’t wear bracelets that make noise because that’s how I
was raised. When I go out to run errands or see friends or babysit grandson Nolan Thomas Behel, I don’t wear bracelets because when I get dressed I first put on earrings and then a necklace and then I’m done because I also was raised not to wear more than two pieces of jewelry (in addition to your rings, of course) — and also because by the time I’ve coordinated earrings and necklace and lipstick and shoes and handbag, I’ve pretty much exhausted my style creativity and I’m running late, besides. So that leaves wearing bracelets to purely social occasions, which in my life means going to eat Mexican with my husband, and heavy dangly bracelets only end up in the salsa.