My bracelet was gifted to me by Mark Furman -- Emily Shack's beau -- when my pockets came up empty during my holiday party. Arica was making the rounds, and whether it was my party or not, my house or not, no IOUs meant no IOUs. Fine, then. I wasn't going to grovel. Rumor has it that Arica is the toughest of mice, the one who works during breaks while others sun themselves or drink PBR, so she's certainly the right person to be selling these bracelets. But getting my wallet meant wading through a roomful of people. Sensing my inertia, Mark neatly produced one and handed it to me.
I put on the bracelet and immediately felt part of something. It's a physical extension of this blog, in a way. My only bracelet is a woven bamboo number from Panama City; it's charm is that I met the woman who constructed it. But the Team Jess bracelet ... It's all business. It's bold and clean and says "don't remove until the job is done."
The next morning, while doing dishe
s, I plunged my hand into a blown glass pitcher. It was a clumsy move borne of very little sleep. The bottom dropped out of the pitcher, and nicked my wrist. A tiny cut, but it bled for hours. I can only imagine the wound had I not been wearing the bracelet.
Jason
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