Gathering Moss

My house is rather on the smallish size. Petite. If only my waistline could be so trim. I made the discovery that my dinning room is roughly the same size as my jewelry booth and we haven't had a meal in there since. On the plus side, guests have to wander through my dinning room to get to my bathroom and I've managed to snag a few extra sales that way.

Spring has sprung and I have flowers and wedding on the brain. The bridal expo a couple weeks back didn't help matters. Now I expect to be finding a way to incorporate more flowers into my designs, and *gasp* might even try my hand at tiaras. In the mean time I'm shopping for live moss, as I want to create some living terrarium style jewelry that's ultra organic.

Too many ideas and simply not enough time....or room.

Chainmail

This idea is right up there with the crowns, but I'm thinking I might be onto something. Maybe it's the Dr. Pepper talking, or the fact that I just got the new (used) car. At any rate, I think I can do this chainmail thing. I figure there have to be patterns, right? If I can crochet, cut sheet metal, and make tamales, I think I can handle the chainmail. I can don my Renaissance gown and pull out the tongs and pliers.

Hat Head

I overheard a couple of women the other day discussing the virtues of hats. "No more bad hair days."

I gave this some serious thought and have crocheted three hats since. I like this one, as it comes complete with braids.

They were right. No bad hair days. But they didn't say anything about the hat hair.

The Seconds, like Snowflakes, Hang in the Air

I have many good excuses for falling off the writer's wagon and one big fat, not so good excuse. Mid December I found myself merrily writing away for my next writer's group. As fate would have it, I missed the meeting and was in the head-on collision instead. The first paragraph of the work I was sharing went something like this...

"The seconds, like snowflakes hang in the air. Three...two...one seconds until impact. Not enough time. Never enough time, but still I hang on as long as I can. In a moment my world will be twisted metal and broken bones. In a moment I'll no longer be me, the me that existed before I met the Window. Slivers, sharp and bright, will cut through the night. Born again. I'll be born through the glass."

It hit a little too close to home. Now I'm thinking my heroine needs to win the lotto, find a cache of jewels buried in her yard, or at least get a new car. Today I'm writing about snow globes though. And fickle artist that I am...now I'd rather go build a snow globe than write about it!

Mornings, Murals, Minrarets

I'd like to say I'm one of those healthy green moms that walks her kids to school every day. I'm not. I'm not a greet the dawn with a cup of coffee in hand sort of person. I don't like to read the paper in the morning, don't like to watch the morning news. The less I know the better...at least until I'm fully awake, cognizant, and have downed my first glass of orange juice, not from concentrate.

So here I am without a car still and walking my son to school. The sky is gorgeous but I'm distracted by the shopping bags trapped in the trees after the heavy winds. I notice the houses with holiday lights still up and do a little cheer that my house is light free. Then I see the solar panel roof tops and lament my awesome electric bill. I see a car with a broken window and think how frustrating with them with the rain coming and all. But then I think of my crumpled car. Grumble. Grumble. Grumble. But then my nose caught a whiff of fresh paint.

In my past life I was a muralist. Actually it was five years ago. See that beautiful sunset there? In a fit of boredom I painted over it. But the fresh smell of paint is calling to me, like a fresh start, blank canvas, and all that jazz. I'm thinking something exotic. Onion-like minarets...palanquins...pUrPLe, OrAnGe, blUe, rED, goLd..."OOPS" paint was designed for crazy people like me.

By the Teeth

I'm the creative guru type and once I get my teeth in a project I don't like to let go, no matter how frustrated I get. My current project is coordinating all my websites. I started it last week, but my plans were trashed when I got the stomach flu and ended up in the hospital getting a spinal tap. Now I have this weird association between hypertext links and lumbar puncture. Go figure. It's rather getting in the way of progress. I'm down to this one little link, and all will be well. I'll be able to reopen my online store and get back to business.

Ironically the link is to this site. This blog that chronicles nothing much. Someone said that I really needed an RSS feed, something that would bump me up in search engines. "Do a blog." I'm still not sure how a blog figures into the whole RSS feed or search engine thing, but at this point I don't care. I know professional bloggers. People who actaully get paid to do this. Something tells me they don't mess around with hypertext links. Maybe that's why they actaully get work done. But I've got this link by the teeth now, and I'm not giving it up.

...I think I'll get the Tylenol