Le Bon Temps

What an amazing day I’ve had.  I started the morning with dream that was literally a mystical experience and then I had a great talk with Thomas Mann, and discovered that he has developed a keen interest in my fine silver project following our talk at B&B, and is willing to participate in some way in my FS mission. Bill and I and the boys then hit up an excellent Columbian tapas place for lunch, and now I’m off to the French Quarter to see Jan and John, and then have a romantic dinner with Bill. Pretty great day.

Tiny Top Hats

I was checking out Jean Yates’ blog and saw these heartbreakingly adorable micro top hats.by Candygears on Etsy. Some are doll-sized (Cynthia Thornton, are you there?) and some are sized to sit on YOUR head. I was utterly charmed.

Well, I’m off to New Orleans for three days of fun! I’ve got my camera.

Bonebox

Ivory glass bone by Michele Goldstein.

Did you see Sarah Moran’s Superstars Sale tonight? You’d better get on her mailing list if not. Damn! Sarah’s beads are simply unlike anyone elses; she makes her work out of her own head, and is constantly innovating.

You Are Free

Amanda F.P. has a new blog entry up that I’d say is a must-read. I resonate with it, and it fits the theme of community and rebirth in the art people that I think we are just waking up to:  we own this fucking place, and it’s time to act like it.

Time to stop cowering from banks and old white lying cheating warmongering neocons and fundies who try to make us hate people we don’t even know:  guess what, you old creeps, we can see them for ourselves on Twitter feeds, being real, being human, bleeding real blood and loving real children, and we aren’t going to sit by while you bomb them again, screw credit card debt and jobs we hate.  We should band together for the communal necessities, and give every person their birthright of privacy, free Internet, and the knowledge of a craft. We are free- let’s act like it for a change.

Exciting

I just did a highly successful experiment, involving using PMC as a gap-filling solder (or more precisely a gap-filling smoothing hole-filling repairing agent) for sterling.  It’s perfect, and only required a few seconds of gentle torching- bringing the sterling to annealing temp was plenty to burn out the tiny scrap of binder and leave only fine silver behind on the piece.  This is actually tremendously meaningful and will be a most excellent hole card to be holding, when I’m sitting in a lawnchair at the corner of Napoleon and Tchichapatulous this Saturday, chatting to Thomas Mann (at his yard sale, come by if you are in the area) about why he is badly needed as a member of the FS Justice League. I would assume that this technique could be done in thin layers; more experiments will follow. Promise.

Antique bolo tip, belonging to my father-in-law, on which I replaced his hanging loop using trad. hard solder.  The ball was so old, and so thin, that I opened a hole in it (should have filled it with water, damn it) but hey, it gave me the chance to check out my theory on PMC used as GAP FILLING “solder.” Perfecto! Pure metal paste, less nassty solder on the silver. The mind reels.

Holy F* S*! I’ve been meaning to do this for eight years.

Good thing I took four hours of vacation time, I might not have been refreshed enough to handle the excitement.

Now What?

Aside from having a few minor tasks on my desks, like a class description and a bit of paperwork for the Best Bead Show Tucson, at which I am happy to report I am teaching a class or two this September, and some web updates/fixes, I am staring down the barrel of five days of utter, total, complete freedom.  1.5 here in Tucson, .8 travelling, and 2.7 in New Orleans, with no obligations other than to hang out with Bill’s parents, who might be the most delightful inlaws a person could have, my sons, who might be the most delightful sons a person could have, and Bill, who might be the most excellent, tall, loverly man a girl could dream of.

photo Anneke Hilhorst

Could it be any better?  Despite the heat and wet of NO, I plan on doing a lot of walking and roaming with my camera. I’m going to hunt up Thomas Mann, on Magazine, a favorite potter, the crazed old junk and antique stores I can’t stay away from, and some kickass PJs coffee. Maybe even a Bluebird breakfast, and possibly, just possibly, a beignet.  I’ve been living the life of an energetic monk since I was granted my Freedom, and swimming twice a day, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt healthier or lighter on my feet than I do now.  I think a beignet is not out of the realm of reason.

After turning in my MS, I had the usual feelings of letdown, exultation, crushing regret that it wasn’t better, extremely brief periods egomaniacal strutting about how great it is, worry that I should have done more, regret that I didn’t do less, crushing regret that it wasn’t better, or done sooner, so it could have become completely comprehensive with no thought unexpressed and not a single extra word, and mostly a vast sense of empty space inside the cells of my body. And then, I remember that I didn’t just send it to the press, as usual, I sent it to a highly experienced and very eager team of people who get me, really get me, and who are great at their jobs. And they want the same things that I do for the finished product, and so there is time, plenty of time, to get it right.  This might be a good thing, writing for the Man.

NCIS

So I’ve been watching some NCIS lately; it’s on during the day when I’m working, and I like sleuthy things. I have to look away a lot, though- I don’t like autopsies and blood.  Hilariously I have been suffering from the delusion that Mark Harmon, who plays Commander Gibbs, was the actor who played Luke Skywalker, and what could be more candyass than having played LUKE SKYWALKER?  Han Solo, fine, but Luke? It was hard to take Gibbs seriously, and every time I looked at him I was like “Freaking Luke Skywalker!”

It took me this long (two months) to realize that Mark HAMILL played Luke, and Mark HARMON did not. Now I can show him the respect he deserves.

Fun with numbers

I just noticed the date is 7-8-9.  Which brings up the classic joke, “Why is 6 afraid of 7?”   Which reminds me of Bill’s favorite joke, “What did the snail say when it got a ride on the turtle’s back?   “Whee!”  Or, as Wil would say, “Squee!”

I guess at 2:34 and 5.6 seconds today, we really had something special. And to think, I didn’t even notice. Nor did I notice this at 12:34 and 5.6 seconds.

Other number of significance were 5-1-3, which is the time that I handed over my MS to FedEx. Goodbye!  Godspeed! I never want to see you again!

I asked and I received

And I thank you all. I got just the right amount of love, and I’m all tanked up again. Admittedly my shoulder is still killing me; perhaps the cats will walk on it for me. I have a massive printout of the whole manuscript with imbedded photos on the table, and my red pen, and I’m reading it all through from beginning to end, to check for that cringy thing that sometimes happens, of someone repeating themselves, or telling the same story twice.  I can easily see that I might, perhaps, have harped on PROPER FIRING OF METAL CLAY with a bit too much vigor in my text. Difficult for you to imagine, I’m sure.

Anyway. Just a bit more of this, and then it flies away, and I can turn my attention to wrapping (that’s Film Talk) my DVD.  I’ve held the release of the video project until the end of this book, (which was supposed to be June 1, which seems like kind of a long time ago now) to make sure that I got everything. The DVD that comes with the book is just a short little highlight reel, and the DVD that many of you pre-ordered is meant to be comprehensive.  I needed to finish the book so that I could see if I was finished with the DVD.  And, in this final review, I can see that I would very much like to include a Branch Bar, a Flower Circlet, and a Dali Summerhome to the thing, so I’m going to spend the weekend in New Orleans, kissing my people, and then I’m going to come home, add those three things, and then ship it out. 

(People say to me, just print the damned thing and ship it, and make another one with more projects on it! To which I say: No.  I’m doing one, and  doing it right. Refunds cheerfully given at any time for those tired of waiting on me.)

And then, August 1-2,  I’m going to go to LA, to teach for the New Metal Artists out there, and spend a day in Venice visiting my friend Jeff. (And I have TWO spaces in in the LA class, would you like to come?)  For the rest of August, I’m going to play with my kids, kiss my man, go visit Suzanne, and get the companion book for Interweave into production.  The one I am submitting now is all about fine silver and metal clay, the one meant to be its sister piece is all about mixed media jewelry. That’s my life, and let me tell you- I am ALL ABOUT this upcoming weekend. I love New Orleans and it will be a beautiful thing to kiss my family.

The milk of human kindness

I feel like I have been trampled by a herd of wildebeest; as if I have been trying to spin straw into gold for 40 days and 40 nights, as if I may never be a simple creature again, as if I have been pinched hard in the shoulder, and kicked in the head. Seriously! It’s how I feel, if you add in the hands, which live in ice now when they are not on the keyboard. (Gail, I am thinking of you, and how your hands feel like this every day, and I am humbled.)

Now of course, the fact of the matter is that things are shaping up very nicely, and I’ve been shockingly productive, and in fact am just TEN HOURS away from this being in someone else’s lap, and I’m caught up on everything except this project (and the next one, and the one after that, but the POINT IS that I have zero niggling undone items on my desk) and am on my way to New Orleans in just two short days to see my scampery sons and my tall, handsome man.

But I won’t lie to you, Marge, the past week has kicked my ass.

I need love, dammit. The milkman of human kindness seems to have accidentally skipped my porch this week.