Romancing the Stone

“Wow, Rosetta Stone isn’t cheap,” I said in response to my friend informing me that he just bought the language series to polish up on his German.  I was thinking back to my discovery in December that learning Italian for my gelato trip would set me back no less than $300 bucks ($175 for a pirated copy on eBay).

“No, it most certainly is not,” he replied, as if to say “It’s not cheap, but it’s worth it to me.”

I had the audacity to call him out for a $300 purchase after I spent the price of a used car on a bauble for my finger.  Value is in the eye of the beholder, I guess, and my values must be f”ed up these days.  What criteria, exactly, do we use to place value things?  Why it is difficult for me to spend $300 to learn a new language and create a richer experience when, this Saturday, I unflinchingly plopped down $375 for this red-carpet ensemble that I will wear only once,  twice if I happen to get invited to a Royal polo match or Spring wedding.

Wouldn’t wearing one of my closet-weary LBDs and spending the cash on the Italian experience have served me better? Where do my priorities lie?

dressshoe2

The Ring

ring

I look down at the ring finger of my right hand and I get a little panicked, a little queasy.  I bought a ring. A version of this ring, actually. Mine’s not quite the same, they’re one-of-a-kind pieces, but you get the idea.  A three-carat rustic diamond; I’ve never spent this kind of money on an object that wasn’t attached to a foundation or didn’t have wheels.  Okay, Phoren, breathe.

I got caught up in the moment, with the salesperson telling me to wear it out of the store to “try it out” (brilliant move) and my sisters oh-ing and ah-ing, I just plunked down my credit card, as if I do this every week.  What happened to sensible Phoren who would walk out of the store and only come back if it called to me?  I didn’t give it time to call – shit, I didn’t even give it time to miss me.  It’s not remorse I’m feeling, per se, just the feeling of “holy fuck, what did I just do?”

Last night, I smudged it with white sage to remove my inner-voice’s disapproval.   I bought nail polish to match it.  It looks good on my finger. I like the playful, Gustav Klimt feel of the setting.   It fits me…it fits my personality.  I just need to get used to it.