I can think of at least one person whom will read this and declare with a cheerful chuckle, "Oh, good Lord! Shouldn't you be working on your next Savannah of Williamsburg book? Silly girl, you have way too much time on your hands." In fairness to this friend, she is unquestionably correct. Yet, I have been working, for weeks and weeks now, on rewrites to the ending of The Darlings of Orange County. (I erroneously thought it would be available by summer's end; I'm now hoping for a Christmas release.)

Previous endings have been missing a certain je ne sais quoi; now, I've got it! To quote Johnny Depp's Mort Rainey in Secret Window, "No bad writing, Chico"; more apropos, "You know, the only thing that matters is the ending. It's the most important part of the story, is the ending. And this one is very good. This one's perfect." ... if I do say so myself. Corn-on-the-cob, anyone? Nom, nom, nom!

Anyhoo, this post was hatched from a simple pre-tweet. Before I sent my pithy 140 along their cheery, binary way it occurred to me I wished to share so much more with she whom I follow. Silly? Peut-etre. Billable PDR number? Almost certainly. Instead of short and sweet, for we all know I am incapable of the condensed word, I proffer a wee villanelle to my favourite piece of jewelry and its Barbie-pink bombilated designer, the lovely Tarina Tarantino.

Who needed bling A.S.A.P.

When she saw the White Rabbit

She knew she had to nab it

And thanks glory be to Miss Tarina T.

The ring in question is a Tarina Tarantino White Rabbit Lucite Mod Ring. My viking bought it for me one birthday at Disneyland: specifically at DisneyVault28, which I have dubbed VaultDisney. As we rode the monorail from Downtown Disney into the park, he took the ring from its tiny black-and-gold striped bag and placed the ring on my finger; it was our unofficial remarrying ceremony. There was also in the monorail with us a dear couple, our Disney pals, and it is the "she" of "they" who will find this post oh-so-ridiculous. Huzzah to the ridiculous!

I sport the bauble with pretty much everything I wear. With the exception of my wedding ring, a delicate, antiqued rose, and a rhinestone Hello Kitty watch I received this birthday, it is my fave piece in my jewelry cabinet. I wear it to work out, I wear it at the pool and the beach (goes fab with my pink and turquoise bikinis), I wear it to write, I wear it for special events, I wore it to two funerals, I've worn it au pique-nique and it was the perfect conversation piece when I was doing book signings back East for my Savannah Series. (I get very nervous sitting en seul as an attraction in a Barnes & Noble or out front at the Colonial Williamsburg Visitors Center, like a Tod Browning exhibit. The ring always made for easy chatter.) When I begin the circus freak circuit again, I mean, book signing gigs for DOC, you can bet I'll be wearing it at each and every gig!

I do have to say that I am all of a sudden feeling sorry for myself, as there's an entire line of Tarina's jewelry, Pink Head (fuchsia-locked Hello Kitty) and Barbie, of which I own not a single piece, yet. Those who know of my Barbie collection and Hello Kitty obsession will understand my fretting; those who don't, I hope you find the joy of fictive, pretty characters someday. Santa, are you reading?

As I searched for a shot wherein I am donning my ring to share with Miss Tarantino (Yes, I probably could have found something more productive to do instead.) there surfaced a bevy of such shots, betraying my love. Most are candid, some are posed and many are of very poor quality. Furthermore, there are many wherein one can barely see the ring; be assured it is there and one can see its spirit glow like the fairy lights adorning Sleeping Beauty's Castle. Nevertheless, each photograph, each ensemble exposes my devotion, no matter how grainy. If nothing else, it is a sparkling endorsement for the durability of Miss Tarantino's pieces.

Full disclosure: the stone did fall out once. However, this was during a vigorous game of pool volleyball and any monkey could tell you chlorine, rum and Banana Boat are not good for jewelry. No worries, I spied the piece at the bottom of the pool and, like an otter, shot down and returned it to the surface where it has since been securely re-affixed and, like a bionic arm, is even more indestructible than ever. 1920s, bare-handed, Irish boxing, anyone?

Friends, Tarina, Countrymen ... I give you, The White Rabbit.