Making another necklass with the second house design because I love the way it looks and as I do i....I remember how much I hated doing this design in the first place....
It take forever and it's boring....its just fucking herringbonestitch and i hate herringbone stitch .....but if I don't finish it now I never will....and it will be cute when its not my problem.....its the judith duterous of beading patterns...and I need to get it done because I want to work on the 7th house some more....
And I've decided again that I hate the ribbon I got for the 5th house because it's not quite saturated enough of a brown and I'm poorly and hate everything....and by that, I do mean that I'm having issues getting my meds again.....
So here are pictures of the troublemakers
Honestly my real problem with the fith is that I don't know how to sew the cord well
One of the crazy things about getting good at a craft, in my case beading, is the ability to look at something and understand how it was constructed.
I can look at a necklace and start breaking down the stitches.
And my mind will reconstruct the technique.
I imagine that this phenomenon happens to painters, sculptures, embroideries, writers, comics builders, taylors and smiths..
Buts it's kind of amazing to understand how art gets made
I'm burnt out on people after Thanksgiving.
I really wish I had a setting between on and off.
Anyway, I'm going to finish up 4th row on the 7th house lungs.
Safety pins are my friend. But after thr fourth strand, I need to find a tape measure to get the lengths right..
Just me?
“The entire British museum is an active crime scene” - John Oliver
For me it was the single beading needle that's I've been using for a month, in My bead, which I was planning to sleep in. Panic was appropriate
LOST SEWING NEEDLE INCIDENT NOBODY MOVE
Ianthe’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
So while I was getting my haircut, the lady asked me if I had other plans for the day and I said:
“I’m just going to pick up the boy from daycare and then it’s date night.”
And the lady says “Oh! How old is he?”
“He’s three.”
“Mine too! Where are you registering him for kindergarten it’s such a hassle-”
And that’s when I realized I said “boy” and not “dog” because I always think of Charlie as “good boy” but this slip up has lead to a miscommunication.
The lady is now 6 minutes into a clearly needed rant about how unnecessarily complex shopping for schools is, esp when you have a neurodivergent child, so I can’t just tell her that Charlie is a dog because then she’ll feel awkward for unloading on me and she clearly has enough going on.
So the rest of the haircut became a game of “how much can I say about Charlie without revealing that he is not a human child?” And the answer is “enough to cover a half hour hair appointment, quite possibly several hours worth if I’m specific enough”
Actually, I think girls in middle school and high school should still feel comfortable having fuzzy pillows and lava lamps and glitter pens and sequin tops and a colorful wardrobe and whatever else they think is pretty or cool. Maybe we shouldn’t, like, try to beat the personality and life out of the youngsters, neither should we expect them to act like anything other than their actual age.
why? because my brain said so. that's why
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