Posts Tagged ‘random thoughts’

Spring has sprung! Flowers are blooming! Birds are singing! (And eating the oranges off of my mandarin tree!)

I wore shorts yesterday for the first time in a long time. Oh, how I missed them.

A little spring cleaning has been going on in our house. We’re working on getting the garage/studio cleaned and organized. It was scary in there, y’all. Scaaarrrrryyyyy. We’re getting close though!

What does spring bring to mind for you? Spring makes me think of gardens and flowers and wind and bunnies. I screwed up, bluggy buds. I had the opportunity to get a bunny last year. After 9 years of saying “no way, jose”, my husband finally agreed to let me have a bunny. And what did I do? I decided to be stupidly responsible and turn him down because “now is not a good time… bunnies and babies and doggies and businesses, oh my!”. Boo, Crystal. BOO! Still want bunny.

I guess the sugary chickadee goodness will have to do…

Happy spring!

To the ring from hell (you know who you are):

After three entirely too late nights of trying to perfect you, I’ve decided that I seriously hate you. However, you shall not defeat me. In fact, you best stop trying. Or I will rip you apart and send you to the refiners.

You’ve been warned.

That is all.

I read this quote on a blog today:

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day, I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”

It spoke to me deeply, as it is so applicable to my life at the moment. For the past couple days, I’ve been really wanting to learn to savor each and every day for the good it brings. Life is so fleeting. Years go by all too quickly. I look back at my nearly-30 years and wonder to myself… what have I accomplished? Have I truly appreciated each moment?

So I ask you… what do you do to make sure you savor each day as though it is the gift it truly is? And looking back… what in your life would you change, given the chance?

Signs you’re a metalsmith:

You visit the bathroom. Out of the corner of your eye you catch the glint of a shiny thing. You bend down to get a closer look at the mystery item. You wonder how that 3/4″ piece of 16 gauge sterling silver wire ended up behind the toilet.

The world may never know.

That is all.

I was standing in line at the post office earlier this week, and in walked a man with a wee little girl I am going to assume was his daughter. Cute little thing. Young. If I had to guess, I’d say maybe 4. Maybe. They took their place in line right behind me. About a minute later, I hear a conversation that went something like this…

Dad: *annoyed* Your nose is all green. What did you do at school today?!

Girl: *defensive* I didn’t do nothing!

Dad: Well, your nose and fingers are green. You did something.

Girl: *After long pause… shrieks* I was smelling the marker!

Dad: *freaked*  Ooh. No. Don’t do that. You really shouldn’t do that! Smelling markers is bad! It can… it can make you sick! Really sick! Your head will… get all dizzy… and you could pass out! And get really sick! And you could… you could… you could even die!! Don’t do that!

Girl: *defensive* But all my friends were doing it!!

Dad: Still! You shouldn’t do that! It can make you really, really sick!

Girl: *blink, blink*

Dad: You’d have to go to the doctor. And you know how you’re really smart right now?

Girl: U-huh…

Dad: Well, you wouldn’t be smart anymore. You… you wouldn’t be able to walk. Or talk. Or read.

Me: *trying to not bust out laughing*

Dad: You’d be like a baby!! And you could DIE!!!

Girl: *apprehensive* Okay… I won’t do it anymore….

Dad: I mean it!! You could die!!

Girl: OKAY!! I won’t do it!!

Me: *done with business, practically run to car to relay conversation to mom who is waiting*

Me & mom: *laugh butts off*

I wish I could have been a fly on the wall at her school the next day.

Little Johnny: *sniffing purple marker* Commmee oonnnnnn, Girl!!! Mmm, so yummy. You know you wanna smell it! Purple! YUM!

Girl: NOOOOO!!!! Dad says you’re gonna turn into a baby and DIEEEEE!!!!

Random kids, innocently playing in corner, sniffing yellow marker: *sniff* *bawl* don’t… wanna… die… waaaaah!!!

Boy, they sure do start young these days. Peer pressure is harsh.

I went to the gym this evening. Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. I joined the gym. There. Now you know.

I had just sat down on the machine that exercises your quads. I can’t think of what it’s called, but it’s a torturer of a machine that makes you raise this padded thing while your your legs start burning like a son of a gun.

I was adjusting the weight (cause it doesn’t take much to make my wimpy quads burn like a son of a gun), and while doing so, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned and saw a blond, older man completely drenched in sweat. I mean he was covered in sweat beads from head to toe. He started talking to me. Only, it was more like mumbling to my ears because I could hardly understand anything he was saying. He had a very heavy accent, Russian or Romanian or something. I caught a little bit of it.  “… don’t have…” “… size machine here…?” At first, I thought he was trying to ask me if they had some kind of machine here. So I politely smiled and shrugged.

It was then that I think he realized he startled me because he said something like “Sorry…  big mouth!”  and pointed to his face.

As he started to walk away, he said, “you’re petite!”

Then it clicked. He was saying something along the lines of they don’t have smaller machines here. Cause I’m petite. Hardy har har.

Okay, Mr Foreign Sweaty Big Mouth. The adult sized torture machines work just great, thank-you. They still make my legs burn like a son of a gun. Though I can’t say they drench me in sweat. Thank goodness for that. Women don’t sweat, you know. They glisten. Or something.

That is all.

When a tiny little Skittle, from 5 feet in the air leaps in a fit of haste onto a small toe, it hurts said toe a surprising amount. Taste the rainbow, toe.

That is all.

Signs you’re a metal head:

You find yourself waiting… impatiently I might add… for your bezel setting to finish pickling so you can figure out what kind of bail to put on it. What time is it? 4am. But the pendant must be finished.

That is all.

As I was looking at the new bust I bought to model necklaces in photographs, I realized that it is completely fake. Not just fake as in: well, duh, it’s plastic. But fake as in: no real woman’s boobs are that perky!

Then I wondered to myself… if all mannequins had saggy boobs, love  handles, and cellulite, would anyone ever buy anything?

Then I put a shirt on her because she was disturbing me.

That is all.

You know that woman you see walking down the road to the mailbox, wearing mismatched (though modest) pajamas?

Yeah. That’s me.

That is all.