Wednesday, December 1, 2010


I'm still feeling a little post-Thanksgiving scattered, but I managed to pick up the pieces enough the last couple of days to bust some stuff out in the studio (I feel pretentious calling it that, but...what the hell), which felt great, even though I later discovered I'd need to take it all apart and start over.

I was making jewelry for the line I'm putting together, which I hope to sell to stores and on a website (which I'm also putting together), and though there are all these OTHER things I need to do (finish the website, for example), it seems like building inventory is a good first step in this particular creative project. [WOAH! "SCATTERED" SENTENCE!]

So, anyway, I was making all this stuff, and it was wildly exciting to use these pearls and other gorgeous beads I'd gotten a while back but hadn't had the space/time to get into; I made seven pairs of earrings and four new necklaces and I refurbished five old necklaces. I was really REALLY happy with them, ecstatic that I'd finally made some headway with the jewelry project, which had been moldering by the sidelines for, like, six months (due to a lack of space), but then I went to the craft store last night to get some metal supplies and everything came crashing down.

After spending no less than an hour and a half debating between THIS crimp bead and THAT crimp bead, THIS lobster claw clasp and THAT magnetic clasp, THESE head pins and THOSE elongated earring wires--laying everything carefully out on a shelf next to a herd of Santa trolls, analyzing the metal supplies I'd brought from home so everything would freaking match, goddammit, and be perfect--after all that, the saleslady who'd been standing next to me the whole time looked at me and said "Do you need help?"

What was it that tipped her off? My hair, which I'd thrown into a barrette, post-shower, ten hours ago, and which now looked like an experiment involving electrocution? Maybe it was because I wasn't just muttering under my breath anymore but speaking loudly to the Santa trolls: "No! No, that's not right. Will this size work? Where are the...? What the...? Where are the stupid plain little silver crimps then? God! Goddammit! What the hell?"

"Yes! I need help!" I said, and told her I needed more metal everything: earring wires, crimp beads, pins, blah blah blah. Did she have any thoughts on anything? Yes, she most certainly did: don't use anything less than silver or gold, because cheap metal will tarnish, look crappy, and give people allergies.

Well, shit. Dammit. That means all the stuff I've made (which isn't that much, really, but sort of), all the things involving wire or metal, needs to be redone. With silver or gold.

I should have known, really--I shouldn't have tried to cut corners using cheap metal in the first place. If I'd had the choice, I'd definitely have used the real thing, either gold or silver, but that's a lot pricier, obviously; from now on I'll just have to factor the better metal into my final cost. Anyway, like I said, it's not that much stuff I'll need to redo (it might take me a few days), and everything will look much better, more professional and quality, so I'm actually glad this happened. To tell you the truth, now that I think about it, I don't know why I was using cheap metal in the first place. Of course it has to be quality! Hello.

The saleslady gave me the name of an online bead supply store; as soon as I get a little extra cash and a resale number (Joedy says it's easy) I'm going to buy some silver and hopefully, some gold, and get this show back on the road!

I just can't wait for this whole thing to be up and running. I really, really can't.

Ugh. I HATE waiting.


Willy Knish said...

What happened to the Santa trolls?

Twinkle Arlington said...

She bought eight of them and put them in the garage to scare away the rats.

Herbert Foobvst said...

It didn't work--the peanut butter was missing from the traps this morning.

Willy Knish said...

Maybe the Santa trolls were hungry!

Twinkle Arlington said...

Maybe the Santa trolls are evil.

Herbert Foobvst said...


Cassandra said...

dear sir,
can you please make me a pair of gold and silver hammer pants with mother-of-pearl button going up the sides? Need ASAP!
love and kisses,
Greer McPantaloon, Esq, MFCC, LSWC, BYOB, MYFB

Isabel said...

Dear Greer McPantaloon,

Please send your armpit size so we can hammer out your hammer pants ASAP. If you can't provide the armpit size the width between your upper canines will do.

Thanks a YAHOO!!!!!

The Establishment, STD, MIA, WTF

Cassandra said...

Dear Establishment (btw, I love your name!),

Thanks for your speedy response! My armpit size is 4" on the left and 6" on the right (should I be worried???). I do not have any teeth. I hope this does not impede the swift creation of said hammer pants. They are needed for upcoming xmas party. I MUST impress McGivens this year! Perhaps a matching fez would do the trick? Please advise.

Swellings of emotion,
Greer McPantaloon, MD, PhD, DDS, TP, PBJ, KY

Isabel said...

Dear Greer McP:

Thank you for providing us with your armpit size. Although it is none of our business, we are wondering why you don't have any teeth. Are you missing anything else? A leg, for example? If so, that would affect the pants we are making you.

Re: your armpit size, yes, I think you should be worried. Have you calculated the obtuse angle of the isosceles? That might yield a different result.

Finally: this McGivens. Is he the settler with the rumpled stiltskin? Or does he have a bunion? Either way, DO NOT LET HIM DRINK THE PUNCH.

Please reply to all the above with speedy haste.

Swellings of my goiter,

The Establishment, LOL, BS, SNAFU

Cassandra said...

Dear Establishment,
Sorry to have not replied with seedy paste. Said paste was used for small mid-morning snack. I'm afraid that I'm unaware of the status of McGivens bunions and that the whereabouts and whyabouts of my missing teeth are none of your fruitcaking business. But punching him seems unnecessary. In any case, I hope you get your goiter looked at because frankly, I do not want my special hammer pants to be made by someone with a goiter over 5.7 inches in circumference.

With growing resentment mixed with a twinge of remaining hope,
Greer McPantaloon, CIA,FBI,PDF

Post a Comment