A couple of pictures showing a different perspective of ‘inside’.
I was thinking of something completely unrelated this morning when – in the way my mind works – I was suddenly thinking about my scars and how they came to be.
I only have 4 and these are only noticeable, if you look in the right place. They’re not huge and given their age, are fading away.
The first one happened when I was about 10, give or take some, I was climbing a tree when I fell out and landed with my hand on a piece of rusty metal. Off I went to the doctor and had a needle impolitely jabbed into my bum. Thank you tetanus, that hurt. By memory there were no stitches (butterfly band aids) and off we went home. No future issues or pain with this scar.
Fast forward to one of my first jobs at 18 (I was driving on my own, so it had to be about that age).
Local pub that had the odd overnight stay and I was working with another lady finishing off the cleaning, and getting ready for breakfast the next day.
I had stepped into a small alcove when…. Whoops, the next thing I know I was flat on the floor. Slipped on something. Ouch! Sore elbow, must have bumped the doorway. Continuing on with my job the next thing I hear is her almighty scream. She hated blood and there was quite a bit coming out of my elbow.
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that.
So, off to the doctor I go and get it all fixed up with a note to not go to work for a few days/weeks… On telling the boss, I got into a little trouble. I was now on compo. Which they weren’t happy about, but which wasn’t exactly my fault. No one told me I should have done a compo form at the doctors, and I was too young to know about it.
This is one scar that keeps coming back to haunt me. I must have hit a nerve right near the funny bone. Hit the funny bone, and it’s kinda funny. Hit the spot where I landed on my elbow and Ouch is not normally what comes to mind. A tingling weird sensation that hurts like blazers emanates along my arm. Thankfully it hasn’t happened for some time.
Moving along, and we are now living in Queensland. Kids and wisdom and all that. Some things just happen. Like this, which given my response, surprised me even.
Washing up. Hot soapy water. Glasses. Of the drinking variety. (My nemesis’)
Hand in glass with scourer, give a twist, rinse and place on drainer. That’s what was meant to happen.
Hand in, give a twist… Ouch! Hand out, “oh shit!” There’s blood in the water.
Not sure what happened exactly there after. I remember taking off the glove, with a big gash in it, and checking out my hand. Well, the top of my thumb actually. And what do I do. B-grade horror movie style, I pull the skin apart and let blood spurt out. Yep, and more than once too. Hey kids, check this out… Hubby wasn’t so impressed. He hates blood and is more likely to faint than be any help. I am proud of him though, he patched me up and bandaged my hand. He is the ‘doctor’ in this family. I am really no good at these things. No visit to the doctor. Although I probably should have.
The problem with all this. Not that it happened. It was a pain (haha) but more of the When it happened. Coming up to Easter I was all excited, and prepared to make all the Easter treats I’d never bothered to worry about before.
So not only did I not get to make Easter treats, but hubby had to help me with pretty well everything. Getting dressed when you can’t use one hand is being close to useless. And awkward.
I think I hit a nerve there as well. If I bump it, my whole thumb tingles, and sometimes it gets that ‘asleep’ feeling of pins and needles. Then there is that weird numb feelings get.
Am I allowed to have a favourite scar. If so, then this would be it.
Rewind. Way back to high school. Grade 7. 13 yrs old. With a tendency to faint. Getting the picture.
School assembly. All of high school, so roughly 150 students, all standing as we were in trouble, with us little grade 7ers right at the front.
So blah blah blah…on it went and then I felt this weird but familiar sensation. The dizzy head, the blurred vision and the knowing that once it got to that stage it could not be stopped. Not easily. And not where I was positioned either. They were talking about graffiti on desk tops which became a running joke as to why I fainted. This was not just any old faint. Never mind the slump to the floor, the wobbling and trying to hold on to the person next to me. This was outright face first slam into the floor. Imagine you have a stick and are holding it upright, let it go and watch it fall. That was me. The funny thing was, I was still semi conscious when I hit the floor as I felt the timber ‘bounce’ underneath (you know how timber floors have that bit of movement) the bang as I hit and then nothing. Apparently the principle said something along the lines of “can someone move this..” as he pointed to me laying prone on the floor. Charming! Of course I have no idea if that is true. I came to sitting at the office with assembly well and truly finished. Ad a small crowd trying to check out my wound. (This equates to the time I was most popular I at high school
It opened my chin up. You could see the bone…
And then as it was being stitched back together I could feel the needle pulling the skin. It was numbed, just maybe not enough, even though it didn’t actually hurt. If I feel in the right place, I can just find it, but it’s not so noticeable anymore.
Mental scars… Woah, imagine where we could go with that one. There are only a few. And most people don’t know about them. And they are not the major heart breaking type either. I have a pretty good life. But I’m not telling, and it is not a story for another time either. Sorry :-}
Cheers, and please don’t run with scissors.. Unless they’re plastic.
Certainly not nutty, I was born that way (damn it, now I have that silly Gaga song in my head).
I was in a bit of a funk this week trying to make myself a super long bright pink necklace. I had the dyed pink Agate, the pearls, the clear glass beads… so what could go wrong with a simple repeating pattern? Everything. I tried too many times to no avail. Nothing was going to work. They are now sitting on my desk in a pile waiting. When they are ready to be made, they will call for me and I will then have my necklace.
I was wandering around the Chickenfeed (cheapy shop) looking for more canvases when I came across these gorgeous bright wooden beads. I knew straight away what I could make.
Hence the start of my going knotty.
This is the product of yesterday. I’m very happy with the results.
This one – what can I say. Not happy. Too chunky, too blah. I was going to knot it, but don’t know what happened. Feedback is gratefully accepted – it will get pulled apart. How it is re made is another story…
And the beads that started it all. I’m going to hunt out more and make a short multi strand knotted necklace. This one will be finished with two strands in between the current lengths. I just had to order more silver spacers to do it.
Saying ‘get knotted’ my not be appropriate, but I’m saying in the nicest possible way.
I wanted to do a few more glass items but not having much Dichroic aside from black and clear, I decided to smash a few bottles and see how that worked.
Bottle are hard to break. Unless of course you drop them on concrete, but I needed to minimise the mess and little nasty bits with kids and dog wandering around.
So with safety glasses on and hammer at the ready I put a board in the laundry tub, covered it with paper and break the bottles. Even with a board, the glass still bounced a bit and took about 6 hits before it succumbed to the pressure.
I have tried several pieces of each glass to see how they melt and if multiple pieces will join nicely.
The only difference between these and my Dichroic is that this stuff smokes like crazy and the fumes are really bad. Dichroic only smokes a little bit and the fumes are not so toxic.
Two windows wide open allows for good ventilation – providing the wind is blowing the right way.
A cold night is not the time to have glass cooking in the kiln.
A sunny day is definitely preferrable.
I have a brown piece, a green one I think would be perfect as a guitar Wrapture and there is a clear one with branches in the kiln cooling.
The glass goes into the kiln, reaching 800C then cooking for 30 mins. This is a one hour process. The glass is then left for at least 8 hours to cool and anneal properly. Although I did drop a piece on the floor and it still breaks like normal glass. Oops.
I would like to open the kiln at the 800C mark and stamp the glass while it is still red-hot and see how it cools. Hence my mention of gardening gloves. This will be something I try next time.
Here is the first piece of beer glass I made as a necklace.
All I want now is some of that pretty blue glass, or yellow…. wonder if the people at the tip will let me take it out of the recycling bins..
Keep smiling 🙂
My creative space is always a work in progress and until I find just the right work tables that will fit my space easily then it will just keep on doing the shuffle…
Ok, so I was bored and took pictures of the grapes…
– the bay window. I love the window for the light it lets in and the view but it has made those little weird little corners where nothing will fit.
– there is only a couple of feet before the corner of the house so that creates another corner that makes it awkward to fit furniture in.
– it is through way! There is a door on one side to the kitchen/dining and just half a wall on the other backing onto the lounge (this wall is partly the chimney).
– then the french doors (right between said corner of house and walkway into lounge.
– on the back side of the chimney someone has ever so kindly put up floating shelves (at stupid heights) so I am limited with what goes underneath…
But am I complaining… well, just a little bit. I have my tall boy (large chest of drawers, not tall children, although two are taller than me…) under these shelves with a cd rack one side and filing cabinet with jewellery storage on the other. Works fine.
Against the back wall facing the kitchen is my mega set of shelves (I was so happy when we found these, they are the perfect fit for all my beady boxes). Next to this was a space that was a pain. There is a double power point here which means certain boxes or containers cannot fit or have to look messy sitting at an angle.
I was in a second-hand shop close by the other day and spotted the perfect set of shelves – I measured, ran home (drove), measure my space then went back and paid for them. They would be the Perfect Fit! And they are.
I just need to find a space for my market boxes when they’re not in use… hmmm. That is 3 large plastic containers & a suitcase, then two others with odd props and the like in them. A lot of space required.
My desk, as always was stupidly messy.
new shelves, and an email stating I needed to take my trestles to market this week (guess what I use as a beading table??) meant I had to get to work.
My plan was to put all things from the tall boy into the new shelves and utilse the tall boy for all my materials and sewing bits… ah, yeah… that was a good thought…
‘Business’ things fit into some funky baskets on the shelves, then comes the fun part getting all my glass, resin, clay, and light tent to fit in the space so it is easy and I know where everything is…
Well, I got started, and by the time I went to bed was pretty pleased with myself… not for long. I woke this morning to another stupidly messy desk…. now I could have taken the easy way out and just stuffed everything into boxes and been done with it. But I didn’t. Put everything where it belongs so I don’t have to back track later.
Now to get all the material to fit in the drawers… like that’s gonna happen!
and the piece de resistance….
I was going to do some more sewing tonight and get some new bags ready for the market – well one is nearly done. Just a little hand sewing of beady fringelets to do. the others… nowhere near ready to sew even…
Now the table has sewing all over it, but that will be easy to move later on. Now, I best get back to it if I’m going to get at least one more done..
keep smiling 🙂