rock on

So I'm told that Jess' business sense kicked in when he was about six years old. You see, his dad (a dentist) had received a case of hard bristle toothbrushes, not what he'd ordered. When he called to ask where his soft bristle toothbrushes were, the company told him to keep the old ones and they'd send him the right order. So he took the rejects home. Mini entrepreneur Jess saw this box of toothbrushes and immediately saw dollar signs.

Unbeknownst to his parents, he took them door to door, selling them at a total profit, as he had basically pilfered them. When he realized just how easy it was to make a few bucks, he started his next venture: hand drawn pictures. By Jess Cheney. These too apparently went over like gangbusters so he began what is considered the crowning achievement of his business sense: selling rocks.

He went door to door, selling rocks he had "collected." It was at this point that a neighbor mentioned to his parents that perhaps his "business sense" needed a little guidance.

Years later, however, the little rock hunter still lives on. When we're out hiking, he often picks up rocks and puts them in his pockets, likely because they belong in his "collection," one that has long since gone the way of the earth but which remains in his mind. Whenever we visit Washington D.C., we must stop at the Natural History Museum, which always includes a lengthy tour of the mineral exhibits. Customarily I find the few I like (the poop rock, the pretty green rock, the spiky rock, the taller than me rock), then sit down and wait while he continues. He even takes photos. Of rocks in a display case.

The other day, when Jess went hiking with his sister Kim (I'm only allowed in the swimming pool for physical fitness, doctor's orders, to keep my pelvis from shifting again), he began seeing rocks again. He came home and did some Googling, during which he discovered that just a few hours away he could find and take home (without breaking the law) some geodes. Yes, geodes.

After some convincing, he recruited a few brothers, and they headed out on their adventure, complete with rock hunting gear: shovels, hammers, and buckets. And the little boy with his rock collection was more than a little bit happy when he came home covered in dirt, these pretty sparklers in hand. The above photo is the first he came across, the one he brought home for me. He busted it open with a hammer to see if they'd found their treasure. When they realized that they'd actually found what they were looking for (they spent some time shuffling through duds), and that hammers don't exactly make clean cuts, they filled a bucket, brought them home, and used a wet saw to cut them nice and pretty.

Currently, the rock hunter is trying to devise a way to polish the rocks without paying several hundred dollars for the sander that Google recommends. :)