is not silver.
This was a baby gift to me from someone I never really knew. But she was special to my mom, so I kept the bank on my dresser. Always. For my entire life.
Then I was invited to a “Sell Your Silver” party! Well, that sounded like a great way to sort out my tired old jewelry box and strike it rich at the same time. So I marked it on my calendar and went to bed.
When I woke up the next morning I saw this:
And realized I don’t like it. And figured it wasn’t really silver, but I thought, “After sitting on my dresser for so many years, this clown deserves a party.” So off we went, one of us with a tummy full of broken jewelry and trinkets. Off to seek our fortune!
The party was nice: delicious quiche and tidbits, gorgeous and yummy petit fours, good friends, funky music. We took turns meeting George, the silver buyer, who evaluated the treasures and offered his price.
My fortune: two dollars.
My blessing: the clown is gone. I don’t miss him.
The giver of the baby gift: still special to my mom!