If I had a bell.....

Yesterday I had a bunch of errands to run around town. As I was making my way between the copy center and the bank, I noticed a really lovely shop that was sort of tucked away between two very large, very posh furniture shops. I walked in to find an American woman chatting animatedly with the store owner. Apparently the American woman comes to Asia every year to buy sapphires from Cambodia, silks from Thailand, and rubies from Burma, and then carts them all back to the U.S. in hopes of making a profit. This woman did not seem like your typical world traveler with refined tastes. She was a bit rough around the edges, had a tremendously thick Boston accent (she lives in Boston full time and, in addition to selling her Asian treasures, she also owns a bait and tackle shop), and the cadence of her voice was thickened with decades of cigarette smoke. She seemed as out of place in that meticulous, pricey little shop as a samurai at a biker bar. However, in spite of her surprising presence (or perhaps because of it), she was just absolutely enchanting. I realize that that word is very cheesy, but she had this particular way of drawing you in, making you feel completely comfortable, and, if you appeared to be sitting a little too high on that horse of yours, even knocking you down a few pegs with her dry--but somehow well-meaning--sense of humor. She showed me the latest addition to her owl collection that she was purchasing in the store (the owl collection having been a tradition that started in her childhood--her mother worked nights, and would give her owls to watch over her), told me about how she gave the diamond her ex-husband had given her to her son's "girl," and complimented the store owner to no end. She made the energy in the store completely human and accessible and unpretentious, and I was overwhelmed with an urge to buy something, anything, to solidify that energy into something that I could hold in my hands and display in my home.

I found an absolutely gorgeous bell. Absolutely gorgeous and absolutely superfluous. Who needs a random bell?? However, this bell was carefully carved out of copper, and the different shades of it gave away its age. It was old and elegant and made a lovely sound. AND.....it had elephants on it! I had fantasies about using it as an exotic "dinner bell" to let my future children know that their food is ready. Food that I had oh-so-lovingly prepared without so much as mussing my hair in the process.

As I brought the bell up to the counter--against which both the American woman and the store owner were leaning, still wrapped up in their conversation--I felt like I was about to become a member of the cool kids club. "Wow, that bell is beautiful!" said the American woman in her smoky voice. "Yes, that bell antique!" said the store owner. I jumped in on their conversation and chatted away while the store owner wrapped the bell for me. When I left the store I felt energized and couldn't wait to get home and open up my pretty new treasure. I knew just the spot for it--right next to my Buddhas on the bookshelf.

I got home, tore open my bell, rang it a few times for good measure (a hearty, clear sound), and set it on the bookshelf to admire it. Oh, the intricate carvings! Oh, the different shades of green! Oh, the beautiful elephants.....wait......what the hell is going on with the elephants???

It appears that I had been so absorbed in the energy of the shop and the excitement of buying the bell that I had failed to notice a critical detail: the elephants, um, appear to be DOING IT. I am going to spare you the details of how I know that they are doing it, but I will say this much: there is no room for interpretation there. They are not "playing," or "fighting," or "giving each other a playful massage." They are straight up GETTIN' THEIR FREAK ON. Damnit. I have no idea how I possibly could have missed that, and I have no idea who in their right mind would ever see this as appropriate material to put on a bell. And yet, I find myself the proud owner of what is literally known as "my fucking bell."

Needless to say, I probably won't be using it as a dinner bell to summon my future children to meals.

Ding dong!

(I tried to post a picture, but it didn't turn out very well)