Godzilla Scares Me

I have new beads waiting for me. I made them last week, they have been annealed in the kiln, and they are currently sitting atop said kiln...waiting. I work through the week, and all the little annoyances, knowing that I have shiny little lovelies at home waiting for me to turn into something fun and pretty.

 The colors make me think of Spring!

But first, I have to get through the week. Here are a few of the things that have happened so far.

On my morning drive, I have to ascend a gigantic hill that is about a half mile long. I love cruise control, but on those long hills, I feel like it expects a little too much from my little Rav4. I mean, really, there is no need to push the RPM needle so close to the red part of the half circle, no need at all.  Me, I have a softer touch than Mr. Cruise, so I let my car go a little slower up the hill. 'It's all good!' I croon as I caress the dashboard, 'You just take your time, Rav, we are in no hurry.' But then, out of nowhere, a rusted out pickup pulls into the passing lane to go around me. I don't mind if you want to pass, honestly, but not before I've reached full speed, otherwise, once we crest the hill and the lanes merge together, I will only have to pass you because I am irrationally certain that you will drive slower than me once I reach cruising altitude, except by then I will not have the luxury of a passing lane like Impatience McSpeedy did. So I am faced with a choice, do I abuse my little Rav, i.e. mashing the pedal down and screaming "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!", or do I let him pass, most likely kicking up gravel and chipping my windshield in the process? My windshield has more pockmarks than...I don't know, the moon? Sorry, I'm a little tired. Ahh, the decisions we must make, and now I have a shiny new pock mark. But, that's okay because...

I have this at home.

Next, I am a therapist, and I am currently working in a school. Before this, I worked in a community mental health agency, and I did a lot of diagnosis--not something I really do anymore. At least, not on the record. Something I don't often tell people about me is that when others get on my nerves, I am most likely diagnosing them in my mind--usually with made up disorders. For example: "You want to know when I'm going to have a baby because, and I quote "You're not getting any younger?" Really? I don't even know your last name, and you want to talk to me about my plans for reproduction? Like we're close friends, or sisters? Hmm...sounds like Psychosis with a secondary condition of Jerk Face Not Otherwise Specified. You may want to consider medication, or at least work on replacing the filter between your brain and your mouth. Okay, I need to calm down. Deep breath, picture it...

So pretty (dreamy eyes).

Another thing, I ordered Girl Scout Cookies a while back, and they were delivered the other night. This is both good and bad. Good because, face it, Girl Scout Cookies are awesome. Bad because those little devils are terrible for you, and I have zero will power. I was born without it. Also, I was born with really thin finger nails, thanks Mom. With my lack of will power, I have devised some more creative ways of dealing with junk food, mostly through the use of verbal abuse. Donuts for instance:

I walk into the lounge at work. Donut sits on the counter, staring at me with his one eye. I stare right back, not blinking.

"You don't scare me, Donut. In fact, I pity you. Just look at you, all gooey and covered in sprinkles. What? You think your special because you're rainbow colored? Well, I haven't cared about rainbows since fourth grade. Good day, Sir." I toss my hair and stride right out of there, only to turn right around because I forgot to refill my coffee cup, which is why I went in there in the first place. (FYI, sometimes one or two teachers are sitting there silently while I do this, but it's okay, they're used to me).

This works quite well with donuts, because those guys are street smart. Girl Scout Cookies, however, are the innocents of the junk food world, and I just don't feel right about giving them the verbal business. So, here is how I chose to deal with those little beasts:

 See, Godzilla is protecting them from me. Just look in his eyes:

Do you want a piece of that? I don't. Noooo thank you. So, I quietly back out of the room, easing the door shut as I go.

I think I will make it through the week. After all, what's a little irritation when there are so many good things to look forward to?

How do you get through life's little annoyances?

Perseus and IPods

I hate running. Hate it. But, oh, how I love it. Like everything else in my life, it affects my jewelry. Because, really, isn't everything we are and everything we do an amalgam of the choices we make and how we choose to live our lives? As I slump home at the end of the day, I'm not sure I could do it without running and the lovely endorphins that come from it. Sometimes, in my job, I feel like I see more darkness than I can handle. At these times, I fight extra hard to balance the dark with things like blueberry pancakes on Saturday morning, long hugs, longer runs, and of course, some awesome jewelry.

My runs usually start out with me salking (sobbing and talking at the same time) as I roll around the floor:

Me (full on salking): "I don't want to go, I don't! Don't make me!"
Ryan (looking up from his IPad): I'm not making you do anything.
Me: I'm not talking to you (a little snappish).
Ryan: Then who are you talking to?
Me: Never mind, (as I throw myself up off the floor and finish tying my shoes).

I push and click around on my IPod until it's ready to go, then I boop and beep on my watch until it is set. Finally, I have absolutely no more excuses to procrastinate and I push myself out the door.

The First Few Minutes:

Okay, this feels good. Not too windy, not to hot. The Killers are playing in my ears. Here we go.

The Middle Part:

Getting a little warmer now, push up my sleeves, use the sweat on my forehead to slick back my stupid, stupid bangs. WHY DID I CUT BANGS?! (irritation and irrational anger are starting to increase)

The Late Middle Part:

Okay, it's really hot. Long sleeve t-shirt was not the way to go. Just breathe, my side hurts, why is it hurting? I think there's a fold in my sock...stop looking for excuses to stop. Listen to your music. What is this song anyway? The Happy Elf? (The Happy Elf is a Christmas song by Harry Conick Jr...it's not even an old song, it's new, written some time in the 90's...so, just absorb that information for a bit...). Why did Ryan load my IPod with Christmas music? It's been three years, why is it so hard to delete tracks from this thing? Skip this song, and...oh good, Garth Brooks's The Dance. Nothing makes me want to run like slow, sad country music. I need a new IPod, maybe I should throw this one in the duck pond. (irritation and anger has reached its peak)

The Last Part:

Okay, another mile, and there's only one hill in the last mile. I can do this! (irrational happiness) Yesssss, Like A Prayer is playing now. This song makes my feet sprout wings, just like Perseus. Here comes the choir, just like a dream...la la la...

Okay, pushed it a little hard, now I feel like I'm dying. Madonna just gets me so excited! Whew, sweating, pounding heart, extreme irritation, lots of anxiety. If I were to talk to another mental health professional during the last mile of my run, I would totally meet the criteria for a panic disorder. Wait, I'm rounding the corner, there's my house! Lengthen my stride, I don't even notice that Celtic Christmas music is banging away, I don't even care! Past the mailboxes, neighbors dogs are barking annnnnd...I'm home. Beep, boop, beep, (fiddling with my watch), huh...45 seconds faster than yesterday.

Here, I finally notice the endorphins coursing through me, everything looks bright, my neighbor's barking dogs sound like angels, and my victory lap...I mean my cool down feels like floating. My muscles are warm and tired, and I decide that I like my bangs just fine. I love this feeling. I love knowing that with some well-timed self torture I can pretty much handle anything. Running makes me better. Lots of things make me better, and I am so happy that I have started to figure out what they are.

One of the best things about making jewelry is the ability to create something special for a special person. I mentioned earlier that my sister's birthday was coming up, and I wanted to make her something with the PMC. Well, here is what she got:

This was my first attempt at water etching--a very fun process! I stuck a moonstone in the middle, and her birthstone, aquamarines, are clustered along the bottom. Here is how it looked while it was still in process:

This was after I etched it, and before I fired it. It's drying on a coffee mug warmer. The piece above it did not fare so well in the tumbler, so I will keep it for myelf and chalk it up to experience--do not over-etch or it will crumble away!

I burnished the raised pieces to give them extra shine against that matte silver of the background. Handy tip: I ran out of headpins right before starting on this pendant, so I dug through my scrap silver and found some long pieces of wire. I hammered their ends flat, and voila! A paddle headpin! I think she likes it

Peacocking!

I've been having so much fun with my Peacock Beads that I looked up "peacocking" on ye' old Google. Did you know that ladies are more attracted to guys who stand out in bars? For instance, a male looking for some lady attention should wear loud colored shoes and a driver's hat. Also, he should carry a cane, preferably one with a high gloss to it so it looks expensive...Hmmm...moving on.

Here is how the Peacock started. I really liked the colors, and I love the crystal clear at the top. I thought and thought about what I could do with these beads, and here is what I came up with.

It's quite simple, and really quite sexy. Perfect for peacocking if you would rather not swing a cane around.

I made the bead caps from Precious Metal Clay, and I'm so happy with how they turned out.

One more picture.



I have to mention that my husband was keeping me company in the cold March wind the whole time I took these pictures, and that is what the ladies like. Okay, we like canes too.

Soul Seeds

Our taxes are done. We didn't have to do them ourselves, but I ask you, at what price? My husband used to think that our accountant was a vampire. However, after we stumbled out of her office late Friday afternoon and simply sat in our car staring out into middle distance, we started to rethink that.

In a soft voice, Ryan (my husband) said, "I feel like I'll never be happy again."
I shivered and whispered, "I'm so cold...so cold..."

We are seriously considering the possibility that she is a dementor.

 "Where is your 1099???"

She did not suck our soul seeds, so we shook it off. We went and had a bit of chocolate, and our tax lady  floated on back to Azkaban.  We have already started preparing for next year. Itemized receipts and your Patronus is all you need to survive tax season in these parts.



Bob

I think I'm liking the PMC. Still lots to learn, but  here is one of my first projects.

I love  how the silver took to the liver of sulphur. That's what I used to oxidize it. I just got the grey pearls, and I absolutely love them! They are all rough and nubbly.

This gets me excited to do more, the weekend can't get here fast enough. My lovely sister has a birthday coming up, so...Bob, if you're reading this, stop it. Bob is the nickname I have for my sister. If you're wondering, because I know how interesting this is, the name Bob came from abbreviations of a series of other names. It started out as Sheesh, which turned into Shishkabob, which, as you can imagine, was pruned down to Bob. So, here we are.

I think I'm going to keep these guys. 



Kiln Love

So, this is my kiln. I don't have a fancy name for it like Big Bertha, or Fiery Joe, or Larry. I'm not really one to name things, except for my jewelry pieces--but those are more like titles. I agonized over what type of kiln to get to anneal my beads, and I was lucky enough to find the folks at theglasshive.com. If you are looking for a kiln, give these guys a try. They build each kiln, and have a great warranty. Also, their customer service is amazing. I have used this guy to anneal beads, and most recently to fire some PMC--those pictures are coming soon. It has been a very good little kiln, and if not, I still have the warranty!

Weekend Warrior

If I am indeed a weekend warrior, I am quite possibly the wussiest weekend warrior to ever...warrior on the weekends.  I always wake up bright and early on Saturday morning...okay, scratch that, I slowly drift into consciousness as one of my two dogs pounces on my middle and licks my face like their life depends on it. Or, at least, their bladder.  Either way, I wake up with a head full of fun things I want to do with my jewelry. 

I mean, look at those colors!  All the possibility wrapped up in a few rods of gorgeous glass. Sadly, however, other things must come first. This weekend, for example, there was cleaning, cooking, shopping, boring, boring, boring, taxes--I did not do  my taxes, but I did organize all the pertinent documenation. I leave the doing to those wiser than me. At least I think our accountant is wiser than me, although my husband believes that she is a social vampire. I'm not sure about that, but she does contextualize a mean W-2, and for that, I love her. Once we got past the yuckies that must happen every weekend, I finally got down to some real business.

I'm calling them Peacock Beads. As yet, they are simply that, beads that kind of resemble a peacock.  That is where the Precious Metal Clay comes in.  I want to use the PMC to create components that will really show these guys off.  I pulled out the PMC for the very first time this weekend--I'm a total newbie at it--and I got mixed results.

These are some pieces I made before the firing stage.  Once fired, all the organic material will burn away, leaving a solid piece of silver. At this point, I looked at them, and with a sinking heart, thought to myself 'Really, Amy? Really?' At which point my sweet husband said, "Remember how your glass looked when you first started?" I do indeed. So, I will soldier on. I will post more of my PMC efforts soon.

The PMC started out odd, and it's always so hard to learn something new.  But, you know what? It's also hard to take the first steps in a four mile run, but I did that this weekend too. So, I'll keep going. One thing I've learned from running is that you can keep going even when you're out of breath, and your foot kinda hurts.

Falling In Love...And Telling Everyone About It!

I have fallen in love.  Deeply.  It started with a little hand held torch, and a piece of fine silver wire shaped into an odd little circle.  We've been dating steadily for a little over a year, jewelry-making and me, that is, and I think it's time to take our relationship to the next level. The fire, the hammers, the molten glass...they have opened me up, left me breathless, and awakened my passion to create. 

My mother, my sisters, and my sweet husband have listened with unending patience as I prattle on about a new order of glass, or the cost of the tiniest lump of precious metal clay.  They celebrated with me when I got my first  heart on Etsy. It's been an amazing year, and it's time to grow. Spring is a special time because it's when I first opened my shop, and this year I am going to give my loved ones a break, and take my prattling the internet.  Yes, it's time!

A sweet little pair or earrings.  My own beads.  My own ear wires.

My funky little glass pendant.  I love the Botswana Agate clustered on the bottom.