Even when I used an electric typewriter and was tempted to change a sentence, the work of retyping a page stopped me. One can only imagine the labour of all writers before the typewriter scratching out each word, phrase, sentence and paragraph only to decide to move it and having to start over.
However I have a weakness for pen and ink and beautiful notebooks. Some of the notebooks are used for free writing or recording my weird dreams. The one above is used for notes, lists, etc.
I have two felt tip pens and two fountain pens, one each for Geneva and Argeles. They are used for thank you and special message notes.
However, I also collect beautiful pens. It's a small collection, very.
There is a solid glass pen bought in Rennes-le-château and made by hand.
The other is a silver-point, green-plumed pen bought at a silent auction during a WOCCU conference where the money went to credit union development. I hovered around the table at the deadline and at the last minute doubled my bid. I wanted that pen.
Tonight Rick bought me my birthday present as we wandered around the craft booths at the beach. I'd spited a set of hand-made wooden calligraphy pens in a wooden case. Two years ago, the same craftswoman had been set up and I'd thought about buying a single wooden pen for its intrinsic beauty but didn't. Last year I thought about checking to see if the same woman was selling her wares, but never did.
I've tried each of their tips. I look forward to writing more notes. I must get my pretty note paper from upstairs. And the pens meet all three of my criteria for adding to my possessions.
1. Useful.
2. Beautiful
3. A memory -- this memory of two wonderful evenings with my husband.
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