Honda Ho-down

Hey people. So, I'm still drooling over that little Honda. I called the seller again and left a message saying "Please, please, please don't sell it to anyone else and call me as soon as you get the title." Now Dan wants one too (maybe). He likes cool old stuff too, and has this idea of us taking them on vacations with us to go exploring around together. That sounds super fun.

Here is a video of some of the exploits last weekend. You can see my bro-in-law John tooling around on my future ride, at one point Dan almost hits him on the ATV. Craziness!



In other SueNews:
Super excited about going to the junkyard today. Another art pal is coming along. She's changing mediums-- going from stained glass to metals. She's working in a number of ways with her art and is super talented. I can't wait to see what she comes up with. Anyway, it will be fun going to troll through junked-out cars etc.

Trusty Pam got herself a road bike a couple weeks ago and has been putting on beaucoupe miles. Tonight it's FINALLY going to not be raining. (There have been three times it literally started raining the minute we were ready to go ride or run in the last week-- sucks!) I'm going to attempt to keep her in sight on my Hula Bike (aka- the dork).

I am so out of shape it's not even funny right now. Such a disappointing turn-around from late winter when I was confident I'd be 10lbs lighter, in super shape, and maybe even entering mountain bike RACES this spring. Now I'm just struggling to get back into reasonable condition so stuff feels doable and fun again.

I can tell my mood has been dragged down by not being able to get out and move as much. Maybe in a couple weeks (if the weather cooperates) I'll be playing a different tune.

And that, People, Is How To Drift...

Hey people. Here's a Video of one of the side events from a mountain bike race I checked-out yesterday at the trail. There was other cool hijinx going on too, that of course my camera battery died just in time for.

This is called the "Ice Burn-Out Competition". I was really surprised more people didn't step up, but oh well. Rich and Verlon kept us entertained for a while anyway. Verlon (red shorts) was ruled the *winnah*.



I have tons more pics and footage and am working on a longer more comprehensive video but it will take a few more days. I'll put it up when I get it done.

In other SueNews:

I now have 7 weeks until my next show. I finally checked the calendar-- Hmm, those things come in handy when planning stuff don't they? I've got ideas. That's a start. I just need to get my butt out there and weld.

Mostly I feel like writing right now because my WIP (work in progress) has taken a major u-turn. I had a neat little YA thriller all mapped-out-- I'd done and re-done my outline, and re-wrote the first 10k words 4 different times before starting totally from scratch.

I think the thing is-- I've never been into puzzles. You dump out all these pieces, and you already know they're all part of it-- they all fit some way and it will all make sense-- and you already know the picture on the box, so know what it's supposed to look like. Your success is virtually a lock right?

That is just way less interesting to me that wandering into some secluded, overgrown shed full of weird old crap and just digging around and seeing what happens.

So bottom line-- I'm letting the story just run out now (with a few very rough outline notes) and hoping by the end I'll have something publishable. So far it feels really mint. You never know-- maybe this will be the one. Maybe I've finally learned enough from the other 4 or so under the bed.

Kind of glad after the April 10th show my calendar is pretty clear except for a few commissions. I should be able to write a lot.

Hell of a Weird Wed discussion tuning-up. See ya then.

I so could care less "who they are wearing".

Hey people. This post is going to be "one of those" because I'm feeling a bunch of stuff this morning that needs to come out. I'm pretty scattered. Bear with me. Sometimes you just have to roll with it.

First of all, I didn't want to write about Haiti, but then again, can't stop thinking about it. Seeing all that suffering is horrible, and I feel so much empathy for the doctors who rushed down there, and are now drowning in a seemingly limitless ocean of injured and dead, without the proper supplies or enough personnel to help. What a nightmare.

When I see the footage of the fallen buildings, I can't imagine how they'll ever get the rubble cleared away, much less rebuild. What no one is talking about-- yet-- is that if there was some kind of magic time machine to put everything back the way it was before the quake, Haiti would still be an awful, poverty stricken, corrupt, shit hole. It's so depressing-- the thought that the whole world is down there desperately trying to help, when the best case scenario is to get it back to being super shitty.

Sorry to be such a drag, but that's how I'm feeling about it this morning. The colonialism/slavery that so many societies were born of has left scars I'm not sure can ever be healed. It all just seems so broken.

Deep breath.

Shake it off.

On a more positive note, I saw the coolest documentary this weekend on PBS. Check out the trailer first, then I'll tell you what I liked so much about it.



"Should I stay or should I go now" "It's always please, please, please. You're happy when I'm on my knees." OMG-- that song used to be my total anthem. (one of them anyway) (loved screaming along)

Old people scare the crap out of some of us don't they? Actually- specifically-- mortality does. And old people remind us of our own.

If you've always liked rock/punk/alt, I think you'll find the way these people-- many of whom are facing the end of their lives-- interpret these songs-- which are completely foreign to them-- extremely moving. If you are not a rock person, I think you'll be surprised at the emotional power these songs contain, when you hear them filtered though this very different perspective.

The thing that really struck me about the old people in this film, was how even though they are physically breaking down, they remain open to new things-- music in this case, and recognize leaving their comfort zone, while difficult, is extremely stimulating. They are trying to stay plugged in to the world in whatever way they are able-- right up to the end. Track it down if you can. You won't be disappointed.

It's scary to think about aging, and losing physical prowess, but reassuring to see that even when/if that happens, there is still adventure and brand new things you can expose yourself to, to feel like you're plugged in. I think it's something you have to consciously pursue though.

I had more for today but this is already long and kind of heavy, so that's it. Have a good Mon. Think about staying open and maybe getting out of your box. Tell me what you think about all this.

You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll possibly offer me medical advice

Hey people. Hopefully you survived the Tourette's inducing cold last week. There was one night when me and a friend went out and the cold air assaulting us on the way to our car unleashed a Steve Carell-getting-his-chest-waxed string of profanity.

This is what the most commonly used door to our house looks like right now. Our front door entrance was never really finished properly. There is a space for a sidewalk leading from the very dished 27 year old dirt drive, but no actual walk, just grass. Everyone just walks around to the back. In winter forget it. No one wants to tromp through our whole snowy yard.

So, after some standing around in the driveway surveying the house, people usually approach our garage door where they now find this helpful sign.

After wading past the six bikes, snow blower, firewood, art supplies etc, they come to the door to our house. Note open switch box with mysterious LIVE wires hanging out. The guy who built our house had Alzheimer's before he died and was fond of doing non-essential, (non-sensical, actually), electrical work.

Also note the post-it notes that act as our security system. Most people are still a bit befuddled once they reach this point so some instructions seemed necessary.






So far so good. :)

In other SueNews:

I think I broke my ass you guys. I fell skiing a couple weeks ago. It wasn't a huge fall, and the hill wasn't even that big, but I managed to fall straight back onto my tailbone. It still hurts and is beginning to piss me off.

Yesterday I tried riding the mountain bike trail for the first time. I have really missed riding, and it felt great to be hovering over Penny again, even if she drifted around a little, sliding on the snow. My pac boots did the job-- I figure most guy's feet are about as big as my boots anyway and they manage. The chopper mitts-- not so much. Couldn't really shift, and had a choice between hanging on OR breaking which made it kind of interesting. The main problem though was my tailbone.

Every pedal stroke was pretty much agony. This isn't a bruise thing, more like a pinched nerve thing.

I also have been still skiing, and I don't have as much kick because pushing off hurts. Eventually the extension behind seems to loosen it up, but climbing hills hurts. Mountain biking has, of course, ruined me for ordinary fun and the downhills are no longer exciting enough and all have to be bombed and still aren't thrilly enough. But they do distract me from the hurtiness. :)

BUT-- my butt you guys!!! I don't know if this is a case of keep doing stuff that hurts to get it over it faster, or if I'm delaying the healing by irritating it. Riding really hurt, making it frustratingly less fun than anticipated.

Any ideas???

You haven't cried yet you say? What about the crying? Well, get ready. Even you manly dudes may want to have a tissue handy.

Several people have brought this to my attention-- a vid about a service dog who flunked out of his program, only to become a surfing dog, helping paralyzed surfers. Amazing.

It might get loud...

Hey people. Welcome back to Fav Music Fri. Below is a trailer for a vid I rented a couple weeks ago- a documentary about the creative journeys of U2's Edge, Jack White (kaBLAM- head explodes), and rock legend Jimmy Page (Led Zep).

Check it out-- the opening sequence (where Jack MAKES a guitar out of a board, a couple of nails, and an old coke bottle, then plays it with a socket) alone is worth the price of admission.



I'm curious to hear how people who aren't really that into rock receive this. If anyone checks it out-- get back and comment. I found it fascinating- learning about how the different sounds are produced and the ways these guys think about music.

The coolest thing of all though, was seeing how they have really allowed their creativity and passion rule their lives, and determine the paths they took. I was especially delighted by Jimmy Page.

You think of aging rockers as being kind of road worn and tattered from having lived a very hard life of drugs etc, but he didn't give off that at all. He seemed very happy, and the joy he still takes in playing and listening to music is obvious. He kind of radiated joy. Awesome!

Anyway, I really recommend this documentary. It totally sparked me to get going on my own creative stuff.

Speaking of...
In other SUE NEWS:

I'm over 12k (words) in on my new project-- a novel about a girl who's trying to hide the fact that she's all on her own in the world, while doing battle with a very bad guy. The working title is "Threat Level Amber" because her name is amber, and- taking a lot of cues from things her mom taught her about how the world works, and the book "The Art Of War", she becomes pretty formidable.

This weekend I got invited to a reading by an author I really admire. Her agent is the agent I want. I've had some online interaction with her, but I was stunned she actually remembers me and took the time to invite me personally. Can't wait to meet her in person!

It feels really good to be writing again and pulled into that world. But the other world is pulling too.

Art stuff is kind of simmering on the back burner. Next week I fire up the shop again. I have 2 commissions waiting, and a bunch of stuff to begin planning for the coming year. I'm going to approach things a little differently this time around. More on that later.

I'm still pretty heavily involved in grandma stuff. She's definitely in decline. It's weird, being at the end and knowing it. We talked about her trouble breathing yesterday. She said at night when she's having shortness of breath in bed she just tells herself to calm down. She knows it's not going to get better. She's afraid to leave her apartment because she knows even a common cold will kill her at this point. Her life is reduced to breathing, & food and water in and out, broken up by a lot of t.v. and a little reading.

It's come down to just trying to help her be as comfortable mentally and physically as possible while waiting around to die. Seeing this, and how helpless she's become, has made me think squirreling away a bunch of Ambien is an excellent idea. When I'm like, 125 and fading fast, I think it would also be an excellent time to take up heavy drinking.

It's Thankgiving- and so ends the non-hassley portion of the year

Hey people. This is the fabled Tofurkey. I'd pick the carrots out and eat those, but that's about it.

My family is waayyyyy more festive than me. I've always hated the holidays, well, to be honest, any mandated family get together. I like my family (most of the time), so it's not that. It's the pressure I guess, and I've always really really hated convention. It feels suffocating.

Below: the Pineappleurkey of myth and legend.

Once when I was young I tried to get into the spirit more. I suggested we go around the table and all say what we were thankful for. Everyone participated, to their credit, but were mostly thankful for the awkward exorcise to end so we could all eat.

Maybe a fancy serving dish would help...

I'm thankful all the time, every single day. The world is an amazing place, and life-- you never know what's going to happen next. It's a wonder! I don't need some holiday to remind me to be thankful based on some pretend story about pilgrims and Indians. It really only makes me think about how badly we screwed-over the Indians, and how we like to rewrite history to be honest.

I guess what I don't like about holidays is they pressure us to perpetuate the myth of the perfect American ideal family. They give us images to compare ourselves and our families to that are pretty much impossible. It kind of feels like a set-up or some game that is being cheated at. It's the family version of looking at fashion magazines when you're 14-- "Here- look like this, otherwise you're less than ideal."

Man-- what a drag I am! Look, if you are one of those people, like everyone except me in my family, who really get into celebrations and festivities and fancy serving dishes-- have at it. The culture is with you. Have a ball!

If you are like me, and can't stand all the pomp, and the gross consumerism, let's just try to be pleasant, and let the others have their fun, and exchange knowing looks as we attempt to go about our normal lives and stick it out until Jan.

Which camp are you in? A Whoville who? Or a Grinch?

Let's put a little mojo on this sucker...

Hey people. Well, My show is tomorrow. Today is the load-in, later in the afternoon. Until then I'll be continuing to make jewelry like a mofo. This new "line" I've been working on is called "Fast Machine", in honor of adventurous, strong, kick-ass women everywhere.

The basic ingredients are: bike gears, birds, red/green/amber beads, & watch parts.

I'm pretty cheap. There aren't too many things I look at and think are worth the money-- or I may see the value, but it's just not worth it to me to have whatever it is.

But I really like these- the whole vibe behind them. I'm going to charge $40 for the necklaces, and $20 for the bracelets. I know it isn't cheap, but those are decent gift price points, and like I said-- I'd buy them. And I don't say that much, even about my own stuff.

Remember Flo Jo? How awesome was she? (Very)

As far as my own zoomy awesomeness goes-- not very at the moment. I was riding this really no-brainer part of the trail, a flat part I usually use to get some speed up and I guess I got too close to the edge and clipped a root or something because it was like someone stuck a stick through my spokes.

Long story short, the bike stopped fast, I didn't, and sprained my gastroc (which is this calf muscle that goes into the back of your knee) when I hyperextended going over. Essentially it feels like my knee is super messed-up, but it's not serious. It just will suck for a little while and makes me ride shitty (er) now until I can put all my weight on it.

So-- Bla bla bla. You guys feeling me on the new jewelry or am I high? Do you think the pricing sounds okay? Tell me now. Sunday is too late. Heck, tomorrow morning is too late. Sound off!

I didn't forget it's Fav Music Fri btw. Today's pick flies in the face of my usual thinking, but it's a fun song and I'm using it to put the whammy on tomorrow. When you work all month for a one day pay-out, well, let's just say mama is going to be kind of pissed if it tanks. I've done everything I can do about it-- including busting out the mojo. (blows on hands and rubs them)

Groove-out to the Flying Lizards' "Money" and send me some prosperity vibes y'all. If you're a local-- check out the show if you've got time. Deets over on the art blog.

Zombieland

Sorry kids. You're on your own for Weird Wed this week. Today is basically still yesterday for me. Took a little "nap"-- which basically entailed me laying down and coughing for a couple hours last night but otherwise have been working non-stop since early yesterday.

I feel like total crap, and now my hands are starting to cramp-up. I've never felt so unprepared for a show. I've been working like crazy-- nights, weekends, and I what I have is good, but that stupid canopy took so LONG. I kind of screwed myself over there. I don't have the normal number of pieces, and this show is all me.

I have about six hours to pull off some kind of miracle.

If you really want to see something weird, check out the opening Fri-- if I'm still upright I'll be in high-heels.

New Mode

Hey people. The shop has been transformed into gate bling central. I can feel the potential of this idea. It's different from other art I've worked on recently. It has more of a "product development" feel than a "things burbling up from my subconscious" feel. That's OK. We can go that direction. The other stuff will burble up when it's ready.

Here's the game plan: 3 sizes of flowers, 4 heights of rods, 4 styles of flowers, and also, birds, butterflies, words, and pot/planter racks.

I think this will give me a good, appealing variety for people to choose from, and spread the retail price to cover the loss leaders.

Weird, feel like I'm back in retail mgmt/merchandising mode. Oh well. Like I said, we can do that too. I might be in a show in a couple of weeks to give these a little trial run. We'll see. Don't have deets yet.

In other SueNews:

I am apparently made of fail. I don't think going over that jump in a couple of weeks is realistic for me anymore. I guess my new goal will be to learn how to pop a wheelie. That's still cool right? Also- this is how lame I am- I want to learn how to do a headstand.

Yup. Those standing-on-your-head deals most first graders can do? -- never been able to. When I go upside-down I lose all sense of direction/orientation and just crumple. NASA was so super disappointed when they found out about this. That and the whole math thing pretty much killed their dreams of me entering their space program.

Yesterday I decided to time myself running against some race results from last year over at the trail. Boy, do I suuuu-huuuck.

I've been running all over over there thinking I was getting pretty good- not taking walk breaks anymore, going farther, and getting faster. Apparently I'm only OK at running compared to couch potatoes who do nothing at all. Now of course I have to begin "training". For what? Oh nothing. I just can't bear how much I apparently suck.

Suddenly I feel really inadequate, despite all the new stuff I'm trying out. Part of me feels ridiculous, like, who do I think I am thinking I can get good at any of this stuff this late in the game? The rational part just says, "Quit taking yourself so seriously, and shut up, and have fun." Good advice rational part. I'll listen to you I guess. Today is just one of those days.

Has Anyone Seen My Mojo?

Hey people. Let's just say I have not been feelin' it lately. For a creative type like me that puts you into this weird territory. It's like if a fish suddenly was like, "water-- meh." Maybe that's what the deal is with those whales who beach themselves and everyone wonders if they've gone crazy or are sick or what. At any rate, that's me right now. Burnt out and trying to limp my way back to Neverland on fumes.

In other SueNews:

More waffle making drama unfolded at our little casa last week. When Dan and I moved into our first place that was just ours, without a pile of roommates, about fifteen years ago, I unearthed this disgusting looking, ancient, waffle iron he'd squirreled away. Apparently he'd "inherited it" when his mom got a new one. I'd never seen it in all our years together, and there'd never been any waffles-- ever.

I talked him into getting rid of it and thought that was the end of it. Our move turned into a total nightmare. The previous owners flooded our house the day before we closed in an attempt to get out of the sale (they decided they wanted more $), and we had to move all our stuff into a storage while workers made the house livable. The moving truck we rented got stuck in the 250' driveway, and we crashed our friend's old pickup into a tree because of the skating rink in front of our house now, created by the ice waterfall coming out of the second floor of our new home. Plus we were stuck living in the hood (srsly, like, nightly gunfire) with only our bed, the t.v., and some clothes for two more months.

When we were unloading all our stuff into the pole building on the property I was on my last nerve. What do I pull out from between some boxes? That stupid waffle iron. I lost it. I was waving it around screaming, "The waffle iron? The waffle iron? Are you kidding me?" like it was the most hated object on Earth. Then I flung it with all my might into the adjacent snowy field.

Then we laughed hysterically for probably fifteen minutes.

Since then we've had numerous waffle iron altercations. I finally did convince him to let that one go (and he never did make any waffles with it), but he ran out a few years ago and got this other one that is huge, and has griddles to make pancakes too (another tasty breakfast treat never ever made once around here.) Then he saw the flippable Belgian waffle maker on sale at Kohl's. Do I even have to tell you he wanted it?

At first I rolled my eyes and pointed out all the waffles we've never had at our place, but then I waffled. (sorry)

Dan for some reason has latched onto this waffle fantasy, and I don't get it, but good lord- how many tangents have I gone off on over the years that he doesn't get? My latest interest is mountain biking which involved the purchase of a spendy (for me) bike, and these rad red shoes.

I could argue that I actually pursue my interests as opposed to these imaginary waffles Dan insists will change his life, but, the fact remains that he goes to work every single day and works really hard. This allows me to live my unpublished novel writing, art making, mountain biking etc life pretty much unimpeded. If my baby wants a crummy waffle iron, by God he's going get it if I have anything to say about it. So I went and picked it up for him and we've had waffles the last few weekends. Ah lurve.

This is a shot of Ray and Camper, who hate each other by the way. It's the whole "keep your enemies closer" thing in action. Just think it's funny. They even both sleep on our bed at night. Now that Camper has gotten full grown they fight less, but continue to threaten each other and stalk around. Dan says it's the cat version of spy v.s. spy.

Lastly, today I go back to young doctor handsome for my leg. Last time I went to him a couple years ago for my tibia he smooshed all my cellulite together and said, "see all this... er... lumpy tissue?" Yeah. Mortified. He said a lot of it was actually scar tissue from me continually re-fracturing my leg and not knowing it. Anyway, now hip is being kind of a jerk too and I just want to make sure I'm not having some kind of gait issue that's wearing down my cartilage or something. Yes, I'm a virtual house of cards people. Aging is awesome!

Oh well, tune in tomorrow for some weird dolls. Take it easy.

My Hand Is Being An A-hole

You guys have heard me brag before, about my pit bull-like Kung-fu grip. Normally if you were to find yourself dangling off the side of a cliff, I'm who you'd want to show up-- at least until someone stronger came along who could perhaps actually lift you to safety-- but I could hang onto you forever. This morning I could hardly open a Ziploc bag though. Boo.

Meanwhile, my hand is all stoked about it's new physique. See this muscle? I think it's called the hand-pec or something. Yeah, it's really ripped now.

Check out this monster. As you can see the cat is terrified. Now my hand's ego is totally out of control. It's always flexing in the mirror and puffing itself up around other less "cut" hands. I'm worried it's going to start wearing Oakley's and muscle shirts, or even, good lord, start driving a Hummer.

Fortunately this joint is keeping it in check. It's hard to feel like too much of a superstar when you creak and crack and are in pain.

Tibia is being kind of a jerk today too. Yesterday the trail got slick and I had to do a lot of unplanned hopping around to stay up on a few downhill sections. The outside of the fracture is calcified, but the crack still shows up on x-rays. The x-ray looks like something from the Flintstones-- a leg bone with a zigzaggy crack right across the middle. It still hurts if I abuse it too much. They wanted to put a rod in but I veto'd it. Stuff can usually heal itself if you let it. It's a bone. It should eventually knit back together.

A couple of summers ago I had back and leg issues big time. For a while I rode my bike mostly one legged, upright with a hand on my hip like, "Hey, how ya doin'?" because my back couldn't support the weight of my torso bending forward it was so messed up. Eventually I was reduced to wearing a walking cast on the leg, and spending about three months laying on my stomach all day on the picnic table, writing between bout's of physical therapy. It sucked.

So much better now, but it takes maintenance. I have to strike a balance between staying active enough to keep my weight right and all the machinery in working order (and me from going nuts) and not re injuring stuff. So today I will run again, because it's bone building and good for me in lots of ways (back, head), but will take it easy. No land speed records.

Wow, welcome to oldie-ville. What a boring post. Sorry. Promise to be more entertaining and less whiny tomorrow.

Grabbing The Hose

Hey people, Sue is going through another phase where the little clockwork mechanism inside me somewhere is rapidly picking up speed, and feels like it could fly apart at any moment. This means everything and everyone is suddenly way too effing boring for me.

My code isn't all that hard to crack. I have a really specific personality type that's pretty textbook if you know about this kind of stuff. When I was young this feeling fooled me into thinking every night was going to be a spectacular, mind-blowing fun-fest, and sometimes, if I found something thrilling enough to do, it was. Giant, crazy fun was just over the next hill-- exciting-- exhilarating illicit fun! I could feel it! But, usually, it was just disappointing. Giant bong hits make you care less you're disappointed and bored, but even that gets really super boring after a while, and is a hassle anyway. Those days are long over.

Now at least I know what this is, even if it occasionally pisses me off. I sometimes miss the "bad old days" of doing insane dangerous stuff and being all reckless, but, now I try to just aim all this pent up energy at something productive. (Grabs hose and blasts away)

Still making naughty horses I guess. I kind of wanted to take a break from them and had a couple of other more calm sculpture ideas that I do still like, but I'm still feeling kind of like this guy.

Thank goodness for this (art), and for characters I can fling into exciting danger, running, and for Dan, who doesn't always get me, but doesn't expect me to explain myself either. (Hit the LOVE tag if you don't get how main a cog he is for me) (or THIS for the reader's digest version)

That's it for now. Time to go be all disgruntled and sweary.

Welcome to The Art Biz Kid

The first commission finished in my new shop, completed even before the SuckWOW is fully operational, does not have me busting a champagne bottle on the doorway so far. Let me clue you in on kind of a dirty little secret-- we artists don't really like doing commissions, not really.

A commission is when someone offers to pay you to make something specifically for them. A lot of times it's because they missed out on buying something they saw of yours and are having remorse they didn't pull the trigger for whatever reason. The best kind of commissions are when people have been watching your art for some time, and like it, and how it's been evolving over time and know only that they want "something" from you.

These arrangements give you the freedom to make whatever you want so it removes that "doing what your told" aspect-- which is the thing we really aren't so hot about. The thing is, unless you're loaded, you usually wind up taking the other kind of commission too, no matter how many times you've promised yourself you won't.

Exhibit A:

This is the original sculpture the client saw and liked. I told her it was one I really liked too, and liked the theme behind it so wouldn't mind returning to it, but whatever i made wouldn't be exactly like it. When you buy an original piece of art, it's with the understanding that it's unique, not just one of many cranked out.

This is the one I just finished. The welds and grinder marks aren't rusted yet (they look tons better when they get that artifact look, super rusty around the edges), and the lighting is terrible in this shot, but -- it's done. It elicited an all caps email saying this isn't the one she remembered and "I should know which one she's talking about, after all, I made it" etc etc.

So, after my initial reaction of wanting to deliver it personally to the client's backside, I wrote a polite email back saying my goal wasn't replication of the original, but to work off of that theme of a serene boat on roiling water. The symbolism, to me, is staying centered amid chaos but hey-- it's art, see whatever you want in it.

Now i just wait. I don't want anyone to own any of my art unless they're into it and I've told her it's totally fine w/ me if she wants to just forget it. Once again I'm promising myself I'll never do this again (face-palm), knowing full well if I'm broke enough I probably will.

New Gear - Plus, burnin' it down, not in the good way.

Yeah, it was totally time for new boots. All of a sudden they just kind of self-destructed. I usually wind up getting guy's pac boots because I can pick up 7's on clearance and they just seem sturdier. When I'm slogging through slushy parking lots I don't want to have to worry about my boots getting wet or dirty. Plus, if a crime wave breaks out, I have to be ready for action.

Also time for new work gloves. Believe it or not I normally wouldn't replace these yet, but would dig through my stash of already trashed gloves and cut off fingers etc and keep Frankensteining them until they basically blow apart. When I moved into the shop Dan thought my stash was just a pile of garbage-- (huff) and threw it away. So I got new ones. Leather gloves always gross me out and these are deerskin. That really icks me out. I like to think of deer frolicking and being licked by their mommies, not getting skinned, but that's what the store had this time of year.

In other Sue news-- I almost burned down my new shop today. Yeah. Dan had put rags under the legs of the workbenches so the painted floor wouldn't get scratched while we moved stuff around. Last weekend I was like, "We need to get these rags out of here." But then we didn't, and today one started on fire.

I was welding on the SuckWOW and I smelled something burning. I looked around but didn't see anything, so went back to work. Then a couple minutes later I was like, "Ok, NOT my imagination." Right away I checked my pants because, seriously, I once had a pants fire. My whole frigging leg was ablaze before I noticed. By the time I found the burning rag under the workbench the flames were like a foot high! It was basically a bolt of fabric so there was a lot of fuel.

I poured diet coke and vinegar and water and any other liquid I could get my hands on it as I pawed at it with my hands and tried to stomp it out. My new nifty boots were too big to fit under there and it wasn't going out easy. I finally got enough of it out that I could grab it and yank it out and throw it outside. Now Dan's lovely floor has a big burn mark on it.

After, I basically had a total meltdown. My first shop burned down while I was working in it (woodstove). I'll never forget looking up at the ceiling where the fire started around the chimney and watching the fire extinguisher stuff almost making it up there before arcing pathetically to the floor. I hauled my welders out into the snow and as much other stuff as I could, but watched it burn to the ground before the fire dept showed up.

I haven't thought about it for a long time, but after the close call today I pretty much freaked out and even started crying a tiny, tiny bit before telling myself to quit being such a big baby and get back in there and clean up. Drama right? Well, it is what it is sometimes. When I came in tonight I looked like I had two BLACK eyes from rubbing them with my dirty and charred new gloves. Very Alice Cooper.

Tomorrow has got to be a better day yo.

This weather is trying to make me fat!

I'm really not one of those weather complainer people who whine about winter-- honest. I actually like having four seasons and enjoy outdoor activities year round. But today is the first day this year where it's actually cold-- as in, have seen a few snowflakes cold-- and 30mph winds, plus sleet? Come the heck on man. I am not running in this today. I know I have to "woman-up" pretty soon because it's going to get progressively colder, but it's not going to be today.

In other news-- my new Moo Cards arrived. These are the ones for the Slag Hammer blog, so feature some of the characters from my novel, and the ubiquitous "Hubbard's Sunshine" sign, also from the novel (You know-- my novel? The Crimson Cord? Hopefully to one day be published-- You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll get creeped-out, you'll go "awe", you'll even maybe get a little turned on -- That one.) , along with other slices of sue-life. Anyhow, nifty eh?

This is what I've been talking about in the utter chaos department. I've totally taken over the dining table, and part of the living room, and, ok, kitchen too. If you click to enlarge this you can see Dan running around in the background. He's been busily working on my soon to be shop which you can also make out behind my trusty subaru (yes, I completely fit the profile-- artist, public radio listener, tree hugging greeny, subaru driving lefty.)

Oh-- the weird colored things dangling off the backs of the chairs? Cat toys of course.

Work has been coming along, with the aid of some occasional head whippage. Don't be a rock scaredy-cat-- check out "Cannon" by The White stripes (Jack flippin' White!- come on!) in the player (It's only 2 1/2 minutes. You can take it.) He likes to rock him some Bible. His guitargasmic "WOO!" comes in at :35 -- so whoop along and shake it people.

A reminder this Fri is Halloween, and I'm having a little blog costume party. Stay tuned for more info, soon, very soon. Stay cool people.

Sparkle Vision

Anyone know what an ocular migraine is? Let me walk you through it:

You begin to notice an area of your vision is blocked by a bright sparkly area, sort of as if you'd just looked right at a light bulb, but you haven't.

As the area expands you grow more alarmed, holding your hands in front of you trying to see around the weird sparkly area. You think, "Crap, last night I accidentally looked right at that light bulb and it wasn't just any old bulb. It was that big honking sodium vapor bulb in my soon to be shop. What if I actually fried like half my rods or cones or whatever is in your eye that makes you see? Crap! Crap!"

Then you contemplate the possibility that you may have some exotic fast acting eye disease and you are actually going blind this very minute. You think about how tragic everyone will find this especially since you are an artist and suddenly panic about how stupid your hair will look now for the rest of your life, as surely no one will be able to figure out how to make it look normal or really care. I mean they could easily just tell you it looks awesome. You nearly chastise yourself for being so vain, but screw it, these are just your own private thoughts. You imagine trusty Pam, a former hairstylist, raking your hair severely off to one side and jamming a barrette into place saying gruffly, "Oh for crying out loud! It looks fine! You should be glad you even have hair. Quit being such a baby." You look like Bette Davis as Sweet Baby Jane, but nuttier.

Then as the sparkly area begins to close around your frame of vision, limiting it to an area slightly smaller than looking through a paper towel tube and becomes more "shattery" looking, like mirror fragments, you remember this has happened before. The first time it did the nurse at nurseline thought you were having a stroke. You go to the mirror and smile, peering through the sparkles to make sure both sides of your mouth go up. Check.

While at the mirror you notice a hair growing out of your nostril. Not sexy, not at all. You become distracted by this and decide to pull it out with a pair of tweezers. Upon doing this you immediately wish you were an actress and could possibly turn the resulting tear into an academy award winning performance and practice making "sad Oscar face."

Ocular migraines make can you slightly disoriented, partly because it's disconcerting having your vision so messed up, but also I'm pretty sure something is wacking-out in your noggin. You start to wonder about this and devise a little cognitive quiz for yourself. -- Quick, what's your dentist's name? You don't know. Is that weird? Do you usually know this? You keep his number under "D" in your rolodex listed under "Dentist". You probably never remember this even when normal. Quick-- What do you want for lunch today? You can't decide. Is this unusual? You decide probably not.

You know from experience unless you lay down, and, ideally, sleep for about a half hour this will become a splitting headache (think unanthesthitised dental work, somehow performed behind your eyeballs) in about an hour, so you lay down. When you get up about an hour later everything is back to normal and you decide to make your whole blog post today about this, and write it in the seldom used second person. How many chances like that do you get?

Ok-- I'll cut it out now. Happy to say I'm all normal now-- for me. Also, thanks everyone who put their two cents in on the last post. I've decided to leave it "The Slag Hammer" for now, but have made a few minor changes to my layout. You like?