Sunday 29 April 2007
Recently Completed: Isis Bracelet
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I finished this a couple of weeks ago but delayed posting it because I couldn't get a decent photo or scan of it. This one doesn't do it justice either. In reality, the cubes are gold metallic luster. To the human eye, the effect is that of gold metal with flashes of mostly hot pink and a little green. Unfortunately, the scan flattens the luster and darkens and dulls the cubes. I'll try for a nicer photo later, when I can take it outside in the shade.
The design is my variation on the "Square Dance" bracelet by Rae Ann Wojahn in Step by Step Beads (September–October 2005). I used it to learn the 1-and-2-bead variation of the 2-drop peyote stitch, where a single cube substitutes for two Delicas in every other set.
The band of the bracelet is unchanged from the original pattern, but I eliminated the plain horizontal line of beads that formed the edging on the original and added the picot to the top edge and fringe to the bottom. The result brought about the name: Practically the first thing everyone says when they see it is, "It looks Egyptian."
Monday 10 April 2007
Playing Hobbit
After the 9:00 service yesterday morning we played hobbit: We stopped by Coffee Call on the way home for a second breakfast of beignets and coffee.
Coffee Call can rightfully be called a Baton Rouge institution. No Cafe du Monde wannabe nor clone of trendy parvenues like Starbucks, it's secure in its own local personality.
Tuesday 27 March 2007
Catching Up—a Ramble in C Major
Eighteen months is a long time, an eon in cyberspace. First there was work, then Katrina-and-work, then more work, followed weeks of carpel tunnel in both hands and tendonitis in one elbow and arm, and...well you get the picture: Not much time for anthing else.
'Twould be nice to say "all better now," but "almost better (for) now" would be closer to the truth. There's still work, but it's changing—or to be more accurate, I'm changing it.
For the curious (or merely bored), "work" is my generic term for a collection of income-producing activities, some of which are semi-related to each other, others of which are not. The proportion of one activity to the other varies from year to year. (Lest you think I don't know what I want to be when I grow up, let me assure you that nothing could be closer to the truth. That's always been the problem: So many interests, so little time.)
Anyway, I've been drifting, allowing the mix to determine itself. During the last 18 months, I've made one bracelet, written one story, submitted no articles for publication. Instead, I've been nose-down, writing (and re-writing and editing, ad nauseum) the curriculum for our PHP course and client work.
That's about to change. I want my life back. I want my beading and writing time back.
That means some changes here, too: Site redesign with a different emphasis. And I'll be automating and expanding this blog. (Trying to decide whether to install WordPress or to roll my own.) We'll see. New year, new directions.
Recently Read: Devices & Desires by P.D. James.
It's generally against my nature to begin a series in the middle, but I did that with James's Dalgliesh mysteries. I had been reading Elizabeth George's Lynley/Havers novels and suddenly found myself halfway through the series, panicked at the thought of running out.
George's non-fiction book about writing, Write Away, included an excerpt from James's A Taste for Death. It was well-written, so the next time I was at the library, I picked it up. Very glad I did.
I empathize with Dalgliesh more than Lynley, the way he thinks about actions and life, the way he internalizes, analyzes, his introversion. James writes deeply into her characters' lives. They feel like real people, not a writer's conception of a character. Her prose is strong and clean but rich, as deliberately paced as the placement of a ballerina's foot.
Currently Reading: Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman.
I read "Price" with Wolfie snoozing in my lap. It was all I could do not to hug him afterwards, an indignity he would never tolerate. Yes, it was an over-reaction, but his poor little ears are so scruffy in the spring and summer (cats have allergies, too), and I've described him often enough as a "minature Art Deco panther." Gaiman's description of his Black Cat was a bit too close and my imagination a little too vivid and sentimental. (Of course, if you haven't read the story, this will make no sense at all.)
Anyway, with the exception of my rather silly over-reaction to that one story, it's a good read. One thing I like about Gaiman: He combines his surreal imagination with good storytelling. I never leave one of his stories annoyed by that "what the heck just happened" feeling that I get with some writers—as though they've written themselves into a corner, can't think how to get out, and decide to be obscure in the hopes that readers and critics alike will mistake it as evidence of an intellectual or philosophical statement. Too often, the emperor hath no clothes, but Gaiman's always comes with a complete wardrobe. The simplicity and clarity of his style is an excellent counterpoint to his rich imagination.