Monthly Archives: April 2014

What’s that you say?

A noise coming from the washing machine?

Well yes, but it was a different kind of noise this time. Not the bumpity bump noise that comes from an uneven load. Similar, yet quieter.

More scratchier.

From my seat in the living room my first thought was that one of the animals was dying.

I could see all but Wally so he was obviously in the washing machine desperately scratching away at the sides of the drum as he entered the final spin cycle. It did smack me as slightly odd that he hadn’t attempted to escape before the spin, but probably the suds had muddled his senses.

I found him in the hallway lounging in the sun patch.

So I stood by the laundry room door and strained to listen. Senses on high alert. But nothing.

So I ignored it.

This morning I found the necklace I made last week.

Newly washed.

I hadn’t liked it and it had stayed in my pocket as I wondered what to do with it.

It is nice and sparkly now albeit missing one half of its chain.


So if any of you are wondering if you can wash your turquoise on the normal setting.

Yes you can, just be sure to put it in a little baggy first so that the chain doesn’t disappear in the machine workings and cause a flood later.

And this, people, is why I shouldn’t be in charge of the laundry – or any other house hold duties come to that.

For all of you who were worried.

I made it!

My usual hygienist was there, (for some reason I thought she’d gone), and, who would have guessed it, but I decided that I really liked the evil dentist man.

I didn’t even need a filling!

Double bonus right there.

I did feel a bit shattered though. I had to come home and have a cup of tea, three advil, and an English chocolate bar,


just to sooth my nerves you understand.

Got a lot of woes.

My dentist, and good friend, left. She retired. Went off to have fun.

With not a thought of what will happen to me.

Same as the woman who cut my hair.

Both gone!

(Although, to be fair, the hair cutting woman had to run away to another state for scary reasons so I have almost forgiven her.)

I am left feeling abandoned. Alone to face my fears.

Will my hair cut be o.k.? Will the new man who has to look into my mouth hurt me?

I can barely stand it.

I don’t like the new dentist. I might only have seen him once, and he might not have actually done anything in my mouth yet, but I know a scary dentist man when I see him.

My first dentist was a Mr. Houlihan. A very tall imposing man who tried to tell me that dreaming of fairies when I had to be put to sleep with the gas mask thingy was definitely the way to go for a great being put to sleep with the gas mask thingy while someone fiddles in your mouth experience.

Little did he know of my excessively bizarre imagination.

I dreamt of Death Fairies. Yes, you know the ones. The dark, twisted, evil, fairies that wait until you are feeling safe and then jump out at you and scare the s*^# out of you so that you can never walk with confidence into a room again without first giving it the once over.

And even then it’s touch and go.

I called him Mr Hooligan.

I might have been only six, but I know a scary dentist man when I see one.

And now I have to go see another one.

Just for a cleaning they say, but we all know what that means.

Sharp pointy things that gouge away at your gums. Water spurted nonchalantly down your throat to choke you just when you think you’ve gotten through the worse part, and the sucky vacuum thing that comes too late to stop the choking and just makes you look like an idiot when you close your mouth around it and it makes your eyes pop out with surprise when your lips shut tight around the tube. (Do they even clean that thing?)

All the while the hygienist is chatting away as though all of this is normal.

Then he, the scary dentist man, has to come in to frown at you in disapproval because you don’t floss and tell you that you need a filling.


Why did I have to have teeth in the first place.

And nobody can help you. Nobody can say, hey, I’ll go have your teeth cleaned for you.

You’re on your own.


So think of me at 11 o’clock (set your watches, that’s Houston central time), as I sit in the chair of doom for another fun hour of torture.

Don’t look, I’m going to cry now.

A new one beginning.


And, and old one coming along.


Still unhappy about the dentist.


Working on another one.


I am getting closer to finishing one. Really I am.

Right now I’m concentrating on putting chains on my pendants, but deciding on the length of chain causes me anxiety.

Maybe that’s why I’ve gone into a decline.

Too much worry.

So I leave it, and now I have five hundred and sixty three thousand necklaces to finish before the art festival in May.

I wanted to take some of my paintings to the show as well, but that’s giving me anxiety also.

I suppose you could say that I’m a bit of an anxious person really.

Not sure though.

I’m still here.

I’ve just gone into a bit of a decline.

It happens.

Working on a few drawings.





But really I want to be able to paint like this.

Damian Elwes

Damian Elwes


Just going to have to be brave and go for it I suppose.

I can’t tell you what a relief it is.

I’ve just cleaned up my mail box and deleted all



I keep them because I just know I’m going to have to go through them more carefully than just a brief glance just in case they’re important.


After a (5,063) while it becomes pretty clear that you’ve missed the boat anyway, and that anything that was important is now well gone.

The anxiety is draining.

Now, I’m light and free and ready to hoard more e mails.

So bring ’em on!

I’ve been making, and painting, I even talked to the new neighbours, whom I thought had moved in about three weeks ago, but apparently it was before Christmas.

This is one of the consequences of being a bit of a hermit.

The world happens all on its own as I sit hammering and pastel-ing away in my studio engulfed in my imaginary world of man-eating triffids.

This is one.


And another.


Oh yes, they look so sweet, but in fact they will turn on you at any time.



And this is why you have to lock yourself away in the studio, because you never know what the new neighbours have brought with them on their shoe from when that last meteorite smashed into their previous back garden.

Finishing up.

Now I’ve got the fire back I was able to finish a couple of things I’d started.


Crazy Lace Agate – Front.



And I don’t know what this is, but I bought these little drilled river pebbles and wanted to use them in something.


Do you think they’re all getting a little weird?

It’s here!


And look.

The nice man gave me a fire red one just so I don’t forget each time I use it that I can blow up at any time.

Wasn’t that nice of him.

Actually Joe was very nice. He put my hose back on the tank for me even though he had to sign a waiver in the shop that if he exploded the company wasn’t to blame.

It’s not like the old days anymore when people just did things for other people with no thought of if they hurt their back, or blew up, etc. I do get it, but it’s a little sad that there are so many rules and regulations. We’ve kind of lost that human touch.

Joe hasn’t though :)

So I’m open for business again.

Which is great as I’ve had a little run of sales and have reached my $1,000 mark so I’ll be sending that off to Syria.

I’ve been struggling a little bit with if it’s worth it. If I’m being naive. But you know, I’m just not going to worry about it.

I’m on a mission and that’s that.

I want to share this video with you about the people who suffered the awful weather in Cornwall, U.K. in these past months.

To me this embodies the way I would choose to live.

If I wasn’t such a pessimist that is.


I didn’t have the guts to do it Capt’n

Instead I went out to try to find a hose to fit one of those tiny, not so impressively dangerous, Map gas bottle things.


Because I was reading that some people use these for jewelry making. But my torch head doesn’t fit it even though the nice guy at Home Depot said he was 99% sure it would.

The only heads I can find are huge and will take your eyebrows off just by looking at them.

They do seem to sell a smaller head, but I think it’s too small for what I want to do – remember here.

So I wasted all morning.


I tried to paint to cheer myself up.

I tried to be happy about the fact that, at long last, I was forced to concentrate on one thing instead of flitting from one medium to another.

That my brain could rest from the pull of making yet another piece of jewelry that I won’t know what to do with once it’s finished.

But, and even as I write this, I feel as though I’m in mourning, and that only by walking through the shadow of death to replace my tank will my life, once again, become meaningful.

(Too much?)

Oh well.

So today’s the day.

I’ll say my farewells to you all once more, and leave you with the mess that is my painting area which seems to have sprawled everywhere.

What will become of them if I blow up?









And this is but half of the stash I have in the other rooms.

To close I present to you Gustave the Wonder Horse.

To cheer you up.


Will I ever see him again …

It’s that time :(

The tank is empty.



Why does this always happen to me!

Just when I think I’m safe I have to start worrying about if I’m going to blow up again.

So, before going to bed last night, (NEVER do this people), I decided to look up if there was a place closer to me than the shop I usually go to so that I don’t have to travel the FRAUGHT WITH DANGER  (yes I’m screaming) road to get my tank replaced.

Of course there wasn’t, but how lucky was I to be able to enjoy some fun bedtime reading about projectile missiles, back flashes, and PEOPLE BLOWING UP!

Good night me.


I spent the next hour laying there, listening to P snore, as I imagined what the neighbours would think if, all of a sudden, that nice little building at the side of my house BLEW UP THE WHOLE STREET!

Would they notice the crater when they walked their sweet little, well behaved dogs (Willow! pay attentionin the morning?

Would the police have to come?

Will I be deported?

(I shouldn’t have reminded myself. The anxiety is creeping back in.)

All I can think is, I should have taken a lesson in how to use the darn thing.

Oh wait, I did.

Doesn’t help.

I did finish up by reading a more encouraging article which, all you, don’t want to be as lily-livered as me, people out there might like to read.


I’m still having a moment back here in my, OMG PLEASE DON’T LET ME DIE TODAY world, but it may help you.

So, here’s the plan.

First off I’m going to call the shop to make sure they’ve got a tank. Last time they wasn’t sure because they sell those humongous ones and my little, trying to be so important with the big boys, tank obviously isn’t in high demand.

(How do people work at that place with all that danger, danger, stuff?)

Secondly, I’m going to cross my fingers, but not my legs as two crosses count as a negative, and think happy thoughts as I travel the short, but FRAUGHT WITH DANGER ROAD to replace the damn tank, because I JUST HAVE TO PLAY WITH HIGHLY FLAMMABLE AND EXPLOSIVE GAS FOR FUN!

Oh god, I’m loosing it.

So, that’s it my friends. It was nice knowing you all.

Keep me in your thoughts.

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