Finally, something to which I can find washing catfood cans preferable. I blame Sara Lamb for starting me down the silver clay road to ruin. Sending me back to hang with the vicious, friendly, vegetarian bead store owner, who happened to have classes... chainlink jewelry with beads. Doug, my so-called friend, dragging me with him to a wirework class (at the Fiber Studio! Even in a warm fuzzy place full of fiber, the sultry gleam of brass and copper and silver. Carol is giving another class there Nov. 11). There are books on enamelling out there and I already have a small kiln.
Sadly, as the equipment and materials and books piles rise, so does my apprehension. I know, this is neurotic. But I really needed to clean the kitchen up last night, and I am really happy I did, and I still managed to go play a bit. I am making a cross for my ex (I know, the ex has me, who needs another cross?), whose birthday is Monday. I want it to be nice. The design options are vague: no stones. "Make it look maybe like a tree." What, it's a cross, and it's teeny, and it's silver. And I am not rich in technique or experience. I am trying a couple of things involving carving a Sculpey mold. As always the work was not nearly so intimidating as the anticipation. It may not be what the ex wants, but it will be small enough to put in a drawer if necessary. And I _will_ finish the tea cosy by Christmas.
Imagine how hard it would be to start if I were an industrial-size metal sculptor.
Meanwhile, we are having a drought. Two months and counting since there was any significant rain. I top up the frog ponds from the well, wondering how the aquifer is holding out. NPR woke me up with a cheery tale from the BBC about rising sea-levels in Bangla Desh leading to refugees in Assam. Assam is where the tea I like best comes from. AND the human suffering, yes. As good as the wakeup last week about the Huichol being done out of their peyote by drug tourists (one of whom didn't sound completely evil, either).
On the plus side: the mozzerella recipe from the Kingsolver website works, if you have a source for rennet (Sarah, in my case). With tomatoes from the farmers' market and olive oil from the daughter's sojourn in Italy on the homemade bread. Yum. I nearly want to eat more healthy.
The hummingbirds left after Labor Day. They were insane, and like Etherknitter, I miss them. I would not have believed how noisy they are.
Reading: Janet Evanovich (Stephanie Plum, not the stuff with cars, and not for the first time; brain candy), The First Fossil Hunters(brain whole-wheat bread).
4 comments:
I humbly and abjectly apologize.
(Cue insane laughter here)
Did you think I wanted to be alone on this merry-go-'round????
(BTW, enameling over silver: very nice. And enameling over textured silver: to die for. Just sayin')
Thank you for mentioning The First Fossil Hunters. I picked it up at the library, just before the starter on the car died, so I had a relatively pleasant hour or so waiting for the tow truck.
If I hadn't lost my job last Friday, I probably would've never had the time to seek out a new MC friend...weird how serendipity works! But I'm now worried that I'm dyslexic on top of all the other distasteful epithets bestowed on me...I read your sign off on the MC group as Laura H in NJ!!!
So how are any of us rational about our avocations?
Yes, insane is a good adjective. We are still mourning their migration. The deck is suddenly quiet...only moonflowers popping open in the early evening to liven things. I thought the hummers would love them, and then the ingrates leave before they bloomed.
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