Snoring and amethyst
After all these months of reading the Gemewizard column, I thought it was about time that you heard the truth behind the Gemewizard. I suppose that after 30 something years of living with the infamous Wizard, I am qualified to tell you a little of the secrets of the trade.
Having read quite a lot about the quality and powers of gems, I became a true believer in their abilities. On one of my visits to a small mineral and crystal shop in Tel Aviv, I was very excited to learn that amethyst, if put under the pillow of a snoring partner, will have a soothing affect on the culprit and reduce the volume to a bearable minimum. What better way to stop the Wizard’s incessant snoring, I thought, than to take the few kilos of amethyst rough that we had in our hut on the roof and place them under the Wizard's side of the bed. After all, he wouldn't notice it. He would never think of looking under the bed for amethyst.
The weeks passed by and turned into months, but to no avail. The Wizard continued to snore. In fact, I think that if anything, his snoring increased. Full of disappointment, I returned to the shop and described the situation to the gem expert standing behind the counter.
After a moment of thought, he said, "But of course, you've given him an overdose! One or two stones are okay, but a few kilos is irresponsible. No wonder he has been snoring even stronger. Try these citrines now. Maybe it will have a better effect on him.”
Turkish tanzanite kitchen
I consider myself a good cook. My partner's Turkish mother taught me to do wonders in my Anglo/Turkish kitchen. The highlight of the cooking is on Thursday in preparation for Shabat (the Sabbath). I will never forget one particular Thursday when I was very tired after a hard day at school teaching. With renewed energy to prepare Friday evening's dishes. I walked into my kitchen and there stood the Wizard, wearing my apron and staring at the oven as if at any moment, a soufflé would rise and he would have to gauge the precise moment to remove it from the oven.
Suddenly he shouted, "it's blue, it's blue.” “What’s blue?” I asked. “A blue soufflé?” To my amazement, and to my disappointment, I must add, the Wizard carefully removed my favorite baking dish, containing a few pieces of blue stones, from the oven. The stones, I later discovered, were tanzanite. What really choked me years later was that in none of his presentations about tanzanite did he ever mention using MY oven but always bragged about those marvelous digital ovens he possessed.
The lost baby oil and talcum powder
When our children were very small, like most mothers, I had a supply of baby oil and talcum powder at home. On numerous occasions, just when I needed them, they would have a habit of "disappearing.” For months I wondered what could possibly be the reason behind this strange disappearance. Eventually I realized that this phenomenon would occur just after the Wizard returned from Africa. I decided to watch his movements closely.
To my surprise, I saw him taking a whole bottle of baby oil and putting it into his jacket pocket. I followed him to the office and discovered him pouring our precious children's baby oil on top of a pile of rough gems while he examined them under a lamp. What a waste of good oil!
And where did I find the missing talcum powder? Lining tin boxes that he used for "cooking" the gems!
The bedroom lapidary
There's nothing wrong with reading before sleeping, I thought early on in our married life. He used to read piles of professional books on mineralogy and gemology deep into the night. And then one day he added a small table with a lamp to our bedroom, where he would sit for hours and sort his gems and research into them, blinding me with the light, until I even got used to it.
But then, about ten years or so into our marriage, the Wizard brought home a new piece of unusual furniture. It was soon put into our bedroom where, smiling from ear to ear, he proudly opened the doors of the cupboard to reveal a machine similar to the one he had in the lapidary. He really believed that I would allow him to cut stones there in my bedroom and that it wouldn't disturb my sleep!
In response to my complaints, he told me that he was in the process of developing a new style of cutting for stones that he would name after me and needed total secrecy. What could be more secure than our bedroom? So, what could I do? For the next three years he cut stones in our bedroom shouting in exultation whenever he was happy with the facet. This was the start of the new Carmel cut to be used by the industry. Until now, nobody but the two of us knew where it was conceived!
Copyright IDEX Magazine 2006, all rights reserved.
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