Ah, the beauty of writing with an old-fashioned pen nib dipped in a bottle of beautiful Italian ink...nothing like it. Whatever you write feels somehow more important -- more like prose...
These gorgeous handmade Italian pen nibs are so beautiful; I have them in all kinds of designs including nibs shaped like the Eiffel Tower (of course) and as in the photo, one shaped like the face of Pinocchio (you write with his "nose").
When I'm not using the pens, I love to keep them in an antique French mustard jar -- pen nib facing UP so it can be admired for it's unique beauty.
(The other pen in the jar is a gorgeous hand-blown glass pen with a beautiful cobalt blue tip).
Well, some things are a good idea in THEORY ONLY... That bit about facing the pen nib UP, that is...
Well yesterday my penchant for surrounding myself with beauty and appreciating even the smallest details (as in pointing my pen nibs UP so I can admire them...) really TURNED ON ME.
I was at my desk standing over the shoulder of my daughter to show her this really cute video of my new favorite little French girl, Capucine. (I've shared her videos with you a few posts back -- see them HERE).
I reached down for the computer mouse and without paying attention (imagine that) I instead impaled my wrist on Pinocchio's nose...
At first I figured I'd just barely nicked myself and that the pen was just kind of in the skin... Until I tried to shake it off my wrist. Then I tried to lightly pull it out. Then I knew I was in trouble.
Unfortunately, somehow, someway, once it entered my wrist, it did what those wall anchors you can buy do -- it completely twisted and those two sharp, skinny pieces of metal that form the nib twisted and were now embedded and clamped in my wrist.
Its a sick "twist" on beauty to be sure.
Oh, by the way...That is NOT blood on the wooden handle. Its stained from a pretty rose-scented ink I have. I wouldn't be THAT dramatic... :)
So now the nib is wider than it was when it entered my wrist. Great.
At this point, I can try to shake my wrist all I want, its in there. REALLY in there. Since the metal pieces did their bizarre, sick "twisty" thing upon entry, I had no choice but to simply grasp the hand and YANK.
Now before I go any further, let me say right here that my sweet hubby (read my post about the dude HERE) asked me
Hubby: "Hey! Did you get any shots of the pen still in your wrist?" Me: "Um let me think...hmm...nope, sure didn't. Was a little freaked out by the thing dangling off me with a vengance. Guess I'm not a hardcore blogger yet, since in this case getting "Pinocchio" to loosen his bite on me was just a tad more important than fumbling around for my camera so I could get an action shot for my blog."
(Love ya, hon!) ;)
Anyway, I yanked, it came flying out (along with what looked like about a pint of blood) and I lived to tell the whole sordid tale.
By the way, this happens only minutes before I'm supposed to leave for a hair appointment. Far be it from me to allow anything to get in the way of touching up those roots, girls! :)
So the moral to this story (which could have been written in blood - my own) is the picture you see below: