The Pink Pen

Sometimes what a girl needs is something pretty.  I like pretty stationery.

I’m not a girly girl.  I don’t shop, I don’t wander “the mall,” and I’m no fashion plate.  I wouldn’t know a fashion trend if it walloped me upside the head.  I rarely even flip through an issue of Vogue or In Style because, when I do, all I can think of is how sad looking all those models are, how skinny, how hungry, how little fun that looks.  I wonder, Where would you wear an outfit like that?  This week my big purchases were a couple of travel guides, an itty-bitty book light with a flexible arm!, and my first personalized stationery in 6 six years.  This is the kind of shopping I get excited about.

Ahhh, new paper still fresh in the box.  I can’t wait to handwrite someone a real note.  One of the things I remember most about the women in my family is their handwriting.  Aunt Mary has the most beautiful, school-taught penmanship.  Grandma Ann used the backs of envelopes (junk mail) to make constant notes.  I remember her grocery lists:  oleo, ctn cigs, 2%, sm fryer, butter rums, Tony’s can. bacon pizza, can spinach.  Mom jotted down daily, summer to-do lists when she left for work at 6:30 a.m. — make beds, dishes, sweep kitch, call G’ma, turn off TV — always signing it with Love ya (never I love you), Mom.  No wonder I’m a list-maker.

So back to the new stationery.  Who’s going to get the first note?  I hope the cards I chose are big enough, that the paper-stock is nice and smooth.  I wasn’t so sure, at first, about the pink pen design, but it’s growing on me.  It is.  And I like seeing my name in pre-print across the top, my name, like that stanza from the the Margaret Atwood poem “Spelling”:

How do you learn to spell?

Blood, sky & the sun,

your own name first,

your first naming, your first name,

your first word.


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9 thoughts on “The Pink Pen

  1. macdougalstreetbaby

    I love hand written notes and letters. I still write them, but I always begin with a draft. The fear of ruining beautiful crisp stationary makes me tremble. I can’t imagine my ancestors ever doing that. They probably got it right the very first time.

    “Tis beautiful, Teri. I imagine a feather pen dipped in black ink sitting alongside.

  2. amyg

    “isn’t she…pretty in pink…”

    love love love stationary. i just this year got some Amy Wrote It notes to mail. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.

    (besides, i think i owe you a thank you note. and i owe lisa a surprise that sits on my desk awaiting to be mailed. they’re coming, i promise. i’m sending you my mailing address tout de suite.)

  3. Lyra

    I love these cards. There is something so beautiful and so simple, just reaching out to you to pick up your pen and write something short and important.
    Love your name at the top. There’s just something about it. But I don’t need to tell you that. 🙂

  4. Downith

    Makes me want to get some of my own.

    Travel guides???? Tell me more.

    PS -I’m a list maker too. My mom wrote a poem about that when I was pregnant with The Boy. It’s too long to type out but here’s a flavour:

    A woman with goals,
    Planning, making lists
    Milestones and deliverables
    The Day Timer Queen

    * * *

    But blackberrying days are over
    A different dispensation
    Now rules the hours
    Another clock is ticking at the centre.

    (etc)

  5. erikamarks

    I’ve been missing you all while I’ve been on the road (and have much catching up to do…) but I’m with you on the pink–to this day, I have an immediate response to seeing a new pair of pointe shoes. There is something about that pale pink satin that does me in still. I even bought myself a pair at one of those great clearance warehouse shoe stores (have no idea how they got there) and they were expensive even on clearance but dammit, I wanted them and I take them out from time to time and sure, I try them on, but mostly I just admire that flawless satin–knowing how they get banged up after just a day of dancing.

  6. Sherry Stanfa-Stanley

    When I was a child, other than buying a new Nancy Drew book, nothing gave me such a thrill as getting the mail. Even now, I still hold my breath when I open the mailbox. But I can’t tell you the last time I received a handwritten note. Somehow the circled balance on last week’s dentist bill doesn’t count.

    Save one of those pretty pink pieces for me?

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