I was busy over the weekend (with dang little to show for it except a fistful of cold hard cash) creating items to replace some things in my shops that I sold. (Don't underestimate the power of a trunk sale--I sold, like, eight things out of my trunk right there on the street and one of them wasn't even MADE yet). I have a new list of things I want to make--one of them involves RIBBON. I'm getting WILD. (Good Lord, what's next? CATGUT? Which ironically is not made from cat guts, but sheep guts.) I've crossed off three of them (and did one of them twice, with a slight variation, it was so fun), and am halfway through two more. Look at me!! Getting on the Focus Train. We're riding the Focus Train. Chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-chug-a! Choo choo! (OMG, I thought those mushrooms tasted funny). Thank God for my mobile studio and hour lunches or I'd never get anything done except daydream about Laurence Fishburne. (Oh, did I write that out loud? Oops. "CSI" has taken on a whole new meaning--Criminally Sexy Investigator. Is it just me or is the man wicked hot?) I was disturbing picnickers at the park with my hammering. ("What in the hell is she doing in there?" It's my Car Band. It's like a Garage Band but it's in your car. It's called Acoustic Squalor. We're doing a CD.) But at least my hammering has a purpose, other than venting incoherent pre-pubescent rage. I'm making crap for people to buy. (Did you know there is actually an Esty shop called "Buy My Crap"? Check it out, pretty cool stuff). And I'm going to stay on the Focus Train (except for right now obviously) until the PMS fires up again in three weeks. I have discovered I am useless during the last week of my cycle, so I'm not even going to try doing anything productive then. I'm just going to lay around and bitch and watch HGTV. (I saw an episode of Color Splash yesterday where a woman confessed her crush on David Bromstad and suggested he work sans shirt. My sentiments exactly. Gay men are so hot. It's a cruel irony. Maybe I will become a gay man...) It's like Really Bad Mojo (PMS I mean). And then...the Good Mojo arrives on a tide of (my male readers may wish to take this opportunity to tune out for a moment) red blood cells and endometrium (sorry, getting all earth-mother) and Less Evil Keirsten comes back full of creativity. Apart from the surreally horrendous cramps it's a magical time.
So, on to the actual point of this post (you've been waiting for the "barbarian princess" to appear, haven't you?). I'm still cranking out the metal wire spirals because it's all I know how to make with metal right now. I have no torch, no kiln, no furnace...just a girl and her hammer. A customer inspired me to continue on my earth tone path (in the hopes of seducing her into buying another pendant), so I created something along the lines of the items she bought (my silver and copper spiral pendants), but in brass. I had been intending to do this anyway, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to make it while she was still in the buying mood. Turned out pretty good. If I were a Bronze Age Barbarian Princess I would wear it. With my pelts and stuff.
NEXT TIME: Triple Hypnotic Copper Pendant. If the first spiral doesn't put him under, the second one will. And if for some reason the second one doesn't work, then for sure the third one (which is nestled nicely in your tastefully exposed cleavage) will make him putty in your hands. Stay tuned!