The dangers of not paying attention…

Left forefinger – bur cut.

Not just any old bur, but the sharpest bur in the box bur.

Middle finger – sanding disc cut.

Yep the edge of the disc managed to slice open the side of my finger at full speed ahead – which kind of hurt.

And it had to be the coarse disc didn’t it…


Right forefinger – water bottle cut.


Who slices their finger open on the cap of a plastic water bottle!


They’re all wrong. Too much water is obviously hazardous to your health.

I haven’t cut so many of my fingers at one time – ever, and all of them are really sore and needed Band-Aid attention.

Previous to that, in this same week, I suffered a scalpel blade cut and yesterday a chain swipe around a thumb as I was happily buffing away.

Don’t do that.

Buffing chains is not cool and can kill you.

I just like to live on the edge.

I blame it on Mary Shelly as listening to Frankenstein had seemingly lured me into a deep hypnotic state from which I obviously couldn’t wake up from in time to prevent these bodily dangers.

Darn you Mary Shelly.

Or was it the narrator?

Probably more likely.

What can I say except that Victor Frankenstein is a complete weeny and is frankly getting on my nerves a little bit. He needs a quick kick up the you know where so that he can just buck up and stop going on and on about how tormented he is all the time.

Such a drama queen.

And that wretch the Monster. Good grief. He learned an awfully excellent vocabulary in the short time he’d been exposed to the German mother tongue and showed an extremely enlightened compassionate side to all fellow creatures for one so primitive.

I almost kind of liked him.

Until, of course, someone ticked him right off and he threw all decency out of the window in one hell of a toddler temper tantrum and decided to kill anyone who he decided had done him wrong.

No hello, no how you doing, no nothing.

Just straight in for the kill.

Talk about bi-polar.

Now don’t get me wrong I am enjoying it, but Dr Frankenstein’s final telling of his story as he searches once again for his offspring, this time hopefully to put an end to it all, is getting just a little mind numbing.

Dracula next.

Dum dum dum…

Here are my newbies.

Sonoran Dendrite
Mexican Crazy Lace
Morgan Hill Poppy Jasper

For all his woe is me drivel I have to admit that Frankenstein seems to have definitely steered my designs toward a new path. Now, if only I can keep all of my fingers intact I might be on to something…

Please sit down for some shocking news…

I have almost finished a painting!


I know, right!

It’s called

Always Protect your Cereal from Wayward Birds.

This is the first time in a long while that I have actually enjoyed being in the painting half of the studio.

Last week I gave up on painting ever again.


Fortunately I’ve slept since then.

This painting incorporates my love of colour and pottery, and also those strange bird creatures.

I’ve been listening to The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins while I’ve been in the studio.

I read it a long time ago but after listening to a couple of really blah books I decided that I needed something good and classic to get my chops around.

The last blah book I listened to was The Stone Man by Luke Smitherd.

It was just o.k.

The best bit about it was the afterword by the author and he nearly had me giving the book a good review just because of the way he asked me to.

It might just be me, but it smacked of The War of The Worlds by H. G. Wells – which I really enjoyed.

Although old, I found The War of the Worlds very tense, and that surprised me in a really good way. The Stone Man was just old and predictable.

Sorry Mr. Smitherd.

I would listen to another of his books though – just to give him a fair chance.

The Woman in White is just so lovely to listen to.

The writing, although a tad long-winded and old-fashioned, is just so good. It keeps me engaged the whole time.

Audio books are expensive but I’ve decided that I’m just going to have to go with them for now.

I love reading, but just don’t find the time at the moment. I’m in the studio for most of the day and when I come in I find that P has the t.v. on after his long day hunting and gathering, and I get caught up in it.

I usually listen to NPR during the day, but you know, it’s just downright depressing at the moment to listen to the news and how it seems the whole world is on a downward trajectory to complete destruction…

Laura Fairlie’s troubles are much less stressful, although I must admit to despising Frederick Fairlie and Sir Percival Glyde just gets on my nerves.

There’s still a lot of anxiety listening to it because back then my modern-day equal rights sensibility was yet to be unleashed, but it just makes me appreciate more the fact that I am born today and not then.

I’m sure I would have been either burned as a witch or have been outcast in some other way when I read about times gone by.

And so all would be revealed tomorrow as I finish listening to the story and, hopefully, finish the painting, except that Christmas shopping and decorating the tree is in desperate need.

Now I’ll have to wait until Monday.

Life can be so unfair…

Well I’m still here,

And I’m still bored.

Maybe it’s the weather. It’s done nothing but rain since I woke up two months ago, and although I like it I think it might be making me a bit moody.

The garden is loving it though.

I’ve been thinking about water a lot just recently, and how we use it, and I’m pondering over whether I want to plant a cactus garden in the back instead of my wanna be English garden.

There’s this lady round the corner, Alice, and her native Texan garden is beautiful.

Garden envy.

I have it.

P doesn’t but look.





Of course, you wouldn’t want to be pushing anyone over into the flower beds


Or go around acting like the crazy Medusa lady


But it could be very calming

Especially if you throw in one of those blue doors as well.

Now I’ve just got to get P on board and work up the energy to get myself going.

Could be a while.

Through the boredom of it all I’ve still been making jewelry.

IMG_5661 - Version 4





And teaching myself to cut stones



But I really haven’t been in the studio much these past weeks.

I’ve also been fiddling around with the embroidery.







I’m practicing for a big one.

And I really might have to make myself one of these.


Because it’s beautiful.


Other than that there’s not a lot going on really except I’m reading The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt which has started off beautifully.

I thought I might have to give the murder mysteries a rest for a while as they were all running into one another which wasn’t really helping my powers of deduction. I was getting a little confused as to the best way to knock P off if he doesn’t come around to the cactus garden soon.

The perfect murder just doesn’t work when you get muddled with too many options and I ain’t prepared to get caught over a succulent just yet.

I’ve too many cabochons waiting to be set.

I am sick


The people who live in this house with me have coughed, and spluttered, and sniffed their germs with abandon throughout this holiday. Now they are up and running and happy and have left me behind in their wake of illness.

I have now pulled every muscle in my abdomen through coughing and am feeling thoroughly sorry for myself.

And, to top it all, P won’t give up working so we can live our lives together without him having to leave the house every day. He says it’s something to do with having to pay the bills, but I’m not sure I believe him.

I think it’s possible that he just doesn’t want my germs, and there I was thinking we would share everything through this journey called marriage.

Well blow everyone. I will be sick, here, alone, with only Sid, my trusty computer, to keep me company, and work on my plan for world domination.

That will teach them.

I’m not too sick to go into the studio you understand. Just too sick to do housework, or anything like that.

Housework is not good for my health anyway, so I wouldn’t want to make myself worse.

So I will leave you with something I am working on.

A little something that Felicity Windthrop has been arranging in her floral studio for the upcoming banquet to celebrate Queen Significanta’s fortieth year on the throne.


The pot was made especially for the occasion by Charlie Smithfield. Charlie has been making what some might consider to be ‘rather outlandish’ pottery for close on fifty years now in his small studio just outside the city walls, and has recently been knighted for his consistent contribution to the advancement of the arts.

Baking soda, sailing ships and deadly emotions.

An update on the acid spill. Not sure if the baking soda is necessary at this point, but it definitely adds to the excitement.

Not just for unclogging sinks, is baking soda the aspirin of the cleaning world I ask myself?


Going to scrub it later.

And now back to Lynley. (I know you were wondering).

One fantastically bright sailing ship docked, or run ashore, whichever you prefer, awaiting me to add its finishing touches.

And this, my friends, is where I mess it up completely and hang up my paint brushes forever – again.


Oh the troubles in paradise.


Lynley is finished!

At last.

Unfortunately I haven’t another  book to listen to, so today will have to be a silent day. Unless I get out my new, tantalizingly intriguing, self-help c.d. Deadly Emotions.

(Don’t ask).

Why I buy these things I’ll never know. What I really need is another good ol’ juicy murder mystery. Not of the Lynley kind. I suppose a c.d. with deadly in the title will just have to do for now.

And here I am still trying out new backgrounds for my jewels.

I call this my Carnival line.









I still think I prefer my original red-dish background, but wonder if it doesn’t compete too much with the jewelry.

And now I’m off to ruin my painting.


Just so you know.

The other day, when I decided to throw caution to the wind and paint again, this happened – but, you’ll be relieved to know that I put a stop to it as soon as I could.


First it became even more hideous – in a mocking sort of way, but I had the last laugh when it found itself in the trash.

Don’t mess with me!

So, coward that I am, I went back to the old faithful.


Which bored me.


And threatened to put me in another funk.


But, I plodded on,


Making stuff just for the sake of it,


 Which bored me more.

Until finally I gave up and sulked myself further into the funk.

Is it the same funk? I wonder to myself.

Or, is it allergies? Stranger things have happened. I do live in Texas you know, and suddenly, all that green stuff is laying about, conspicuous in its innocence (to the trained eye), on all available surfaces.

This, and those wind turbine things, remind me of the late great science fiction books. The turbine things are the new and improved War of the Worlds aliens. Sleek in design yet even more sinister in their silent, never moving way. They just bide their time, collecting the wind so to sniff out human happenings, looking, but not looking, and, all the time multiplying until, before you know it, they’re everywhere, like in Sweetwater, TX.



(Actually, that’s not Sweetwater, but yet another example of alien infiltration on the outskirts of a doomed Texas town. Who will be next?).

And the pollen? Well, that’s obviously some kind of insidious microorganism waiting patiently for us to inhale them into our bodies, so that they can use us as a weapon to fight the wind aliens and continue their quest to take over the universe. Some of them will be wasted, of course, but it’s a sacrifice they are willing to take.


For them, failure is not an option …

As for Inspector Lynley, I was finally allowed to see the connection between the baffling – why are you telling me this – sub story, and the main story. I must admit it was in a bit of a ‘duh’ way, like I really should have seen it coming. But, as I’m not really that invested in the story the connection caught me off guard and it ended up more as the ‘boom boom’ part of a bad joke. (Can’t really sound that out in words so you’ll just have to work with me here).

I still haven’t finished listening to the story, but we all have to suffer in our own way.

On a lighter note: I burnt a hole in the studio counter when I put the nitric acid into a ceramic dish, (don’t judge me – it said I could). It was obviously not the right kind of ceramic dish, I think because it was old and crackly. I just thought, wow, that nitric acid evaporates quickly, but no – it had seeped right through the bottom and now I have a humongous area of molten formica counter top to forever flaunt my failures. It’s as though one of those alien versus predator things has dribbled its caustic saliva onto it.

And, the moral of the story is …

Never play with acid when you’re in a funk!

I’m telling you, this mood better change quick otherwise I’ll have no studio left.

Be afraid. Be very afraid …

I want to –

Paint soooo much, but I just canny do it capt’n.

It’s my most worrying thing to do.

Sometimes I ignore it and just don’t look over at that whole other side of the studio, you know, the one with all the exciting colours patiently waiting to play.

But, I know it’s there, because it’s niggling a hole in the side of my head.

So today I’m going to get to it – it’s going to be a painting day.

(I think).

Lighten up girl. Inspector Lynley is still half heartedly trying to solve the graveyard murder, which is a convenient place to get murdered in if you ask me, and as I only listen to the story when I paint, he’s pretty much been dragging his heals over the whole thing.

It’s time to put a stop to this story before anyone else gets hurt.

Actually, I’m not really enjoying it, it’s more something to listen to really. It does kind of take the painting anxiety away a little by dragging me into it’s (boring) drama, a bit like taking a xanax really, although it’s been going on for so long now that if someone doesn’t tell me who did it soon and explain to me how the whole little sub story about the toddler murder fits in to the thing, someone is going to hear about it.

So I’m off out now to paint and listen. I’ll let you know how the whole sorry mess turns out … if it turns out.

A little something for you to mull on while you wait.


Come on. You know you want to try it, if only to laugh out loud because you knew it wouldn’t work even before you tried it.

The clue here is (repeat if necessary), although the whole fizzy science experiment thing does sound rather exciting.