Happy place…

So it’s been a year.

Well a couple of weeks shy, and I’m finally beginning to sort myself out.

Now I know why the Victorians had the whole black thing going on.

It’s like a code for, Back off, I’m not quite right and might explode at any time.

Tell me, would you approach this woman thinking things are all happy and rosy?

Apparently, as you can see by her jewels, she’s only in half mourning.

According to the rules it’s just nothing but black for two and a half years after which then, and only then, you might add a little trinket to lighten things up a bit.

Of course Vicki had the whole thing down pat.

Even the dog was in on the game.

I just happen to be watching Victoria on PBS right now.

It’s always a shock to see the real face of Victoria after seeing her on t.v.

Almost an exact likeness except for the nose I think…

The same thing happened with Henry.

Must have just caught him in bad lighting.

Anyway, suffice to say, I’m feeling a lot better about the whole dad dying thing except for being a bit pissed off.

I find myself happily plodding away in the studio when suddenly I remember that he’s dead and spontaneously snap at him for being so inconsiderate.

Sometimes swear words are involved and I’m not sorry about them either because I’m generally just pretty ticked off by the whole thing.

On the whole I have to say I’m happier with this stage of the grieving however.

It feels more productive.

But I just wanted to share with you some goodies I bought for myself today.

One of these.

This.

And this.

By Catie Miller – HERE

I love the happiness of them.

Could these be my little coming out of mourning trinkets I ask myself?

Would they look a little strange hanging round my neck?

Think I’ll just stick with using them for succulents and tea, however, otherwise the people in the grocery store might really think I’ve lost the plot and could explode at any time.

Wouldn’t want any trouble around the egg plants now would we…

I present to you the…

Pathetic Lump.

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Looks like a creature from the unknown.

Not to be defeated I went on to make a bigger, better, stronger,

Pathetic Lump

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So that the first Pathetic Lump would have a friend and not feel so alone in its patheticness.

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Little do they know that their friendship cannot last as it’s back to the flames with them.

As soon as I can be bothered to go through the whole process of making yet another mold.

Don’t fret for them my friends as once they stand at the crucible’s edge they will happily sacrifice themselves to the inferno knowing that other forms may come into being.

If the form master can get her act together and figure out how to do the darn thing.

Actually I think I’m close.

It’s just the sprig that needs sorting out is all.

Too much silver is trying to force its way into that little tube and starts to cool before it can fill the mold. I just get too nervous when I’m carving away the sand in case I hit the mold and mess it up.

Obviously I’m nowhere near it and can dig out another centimeter at least.

Onwards and Upwards.

We will never surrender.

In other news.

The painting, or at least one of them, is coming along.

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I call it,

‘I can be a little harbour if I want to so leave me alone and get on with your own stuff why don’t you.’

I’m just going to figure out how to make the houses look not so silly and then I do believe I might even say that I have finished it.

I know right!

Also,

I bought me a cup.

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Ain’t it cool

🙂

Off to make the new generation of Pathetic Lumps now.

I am sick

Again.

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.

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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.

Someone please tell me.

How this can possibly be $4,200?

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Shiho Kanzaki

(Pete’s Pots – any ideas?)

It’s beautiful, and I was very attracted to it, and I thought to myself –

Myself, this would be a great addition to your pottery collection don’t you think?

But Myself wasn’t sure. So we looked at the price.

Good grief, heavens to betsy, and other expletives not really appropriate here, LOOK AT THE PRICE!

How can anyone justify spending that much money on a piece of pottery?

Maybe I’m just a miserly old goat.

It’s possible.

 

To oblivion and beyond.

As Buzz would say.

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O.K. so he wouldn’t, but he could have, and with a little make up he def could look the spitting image of Tom. No?

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O.K. maybe a lot of make up, but they have the same eyebrows.

Bottom line, it was better than Olympus has Fallen, but we left with more questions than made sense. Half way through it took on a bit of a, what?, theme, but Tom wasn’t so bad to look at I suppose, so all wasn’t that lost. Looking forward to Star Trek and the Great Gatsby now.

Spent yesterday, before the movies, glazing plates. I really am already disappointed with the outcome and they’re not in the kiln yet.

Oh yes, they look alright now.

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But lets just wait and see what 1800 + F does for them.

I’m not holding my breath.

The photos are a bit dull, I’ll try to replace them later with better ones. Off to the farmers market now. I’ve got to get my health back on 😉

 

Did she run out of things to say?

I hear you wondering loudly to yourselves …

I think not!

Today is brought to you from the sofa after a day of wandering happily, and touching carefully, all the lovely art things at the Woodlands Waterway Art Festival, here in TX.

And, it was a beautiful day. It got a bit hot towards the end of the trek up and down the waterway, but we made it back to the car and into the Cheesecake Factory without too much moaning.

O.K. a bit of moaning.

Here are some of my favourite artist of the day.

Ronald Linton

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Tim Peters

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Alex Horst

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Brian McGuffey

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Terrell Powell

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Deborah Bloom

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Michele Ledoux

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Denise Greenwood-Loveless

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Chelsea Stone

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Tanya Doskova

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And my very, very favorite,

Steven Graber

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Unfortunately I couldn’t buy them all …

 

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.

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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.

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Which bored me.

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And threatened to put me in another funk.

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But, I plodded on,

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Making stuff just for the sake of it,

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 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.

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See!

(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.

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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 …