Rhodochrosite

My father tells a story of when I was a very young toddler. He took me to the grocery store and an older woman came up to me and cooed “Say Mama,” to which I obediently replied, “Mama.” She smiled and continued to play with me asking me to repeat Dada, and I obeyed.

My dad, a geologist who knew my great 1 year old oratory skills, turned to me and cooed, “say rhodochrosite,” and I dutifully repeated, “Rhodochrosite!” to Dad’s great entertainment.

And so my great attachment to Rhodochrosite was born.

The special necklaces in the photo above were a gift from my inlaws who traveled to Argentina, and, knowing my special fondness for this rock, brought them back for both my girls and me.

Apparently, the Argentineans (hmm… That spelling looks wacky, but spellchecker approves, so I’ll move on) have a custom of giving rhodochrosite to girls. They believe that women who own this stone will stay married for life.

I’m happily married, so I’m assuming that the rocks have been at work.

My favorite rock. Now you know.