This weekend I kilted up and accompanied my wife to her jewelry making class at the local junior college. While she and others learned to tie pearls, I visited with the two people there selling their jewelry-making supplies. One man was also into lapidary (turning rocks into gems) and had his club's newsletter there. In it was a humorous ditty composed many years ago, and I took a few moments to copy it down.

If one substitutes the word "kilts" for "rocks" and rearranges some other imagery, it appears the addiction is the same. Maybe we all have _____ in our heads.


Wife’s Lament

Rocks in the bedroom, rocks in the hall,
Rocks in the garden, rocks in the wall.
Find ‘em in the coffee pot, find ‘em on the floor,
Stashed in the cupboards till I can’t close the door.
Haven’t found ‘em in the washer, nor yet in the bed;
But I wonder what it is in a Rockhound’s head?

(Ghost Sheet, March 2006, newsletter of the Mother Lode Mineral Society, Modesto, California. Above item republished from Ghost Sheet, April 1951)