Posting

I haven't posted in a few days. I've been working on glasses, jewelry and a mirror. You can see them at

http://tinyurl.com/DarkwaterGalleries

I'm exhausted. It takes a bit longer than I expected to update the shop.

I'm considering posting a how to on basic etching. There are dozens out there for acid etching, but it seems that few people etch by hand these days. I suppose it's "easier". You put on a pre-made stencil, rub on the acid and wait a few minutes. Rinse with water and you're done. It's easy, but you get a lighter result than diamond hand etching. Plus, unless you have a very steady hand with an exacto blade to make your own stencils, you're limited to other people's designs and you can't create many of your designs. With hand etching, however, if you can draw it, you can etch it.

Monday Strikes

Garfield had it right. Mondays suck. Even when you don't work outside of the home, nothing ever seems to go right on a Monday.



Mondays just seem to overwhelm you most weeks. I think it's because, whether you work a job or work at home, you don't do as much on the weekends as you do during the work week. Then Monday rolls around and all the things you hadn't finished the week before are sitting there, on your desk, waiting to be done. Plus you have the pile of new work. Mondays you inevitably start out behind.


Add to that, you're usually relaxed during the weekend. You're calm. Then Monday rolls around and WHAM, tense. Work work work. Things to do. No more lounging on the couch or the beach. Time to get things done. If you aren't relaxed, you've done things. Usually fun things. You went on a trip, to a concert, a fair. Picnics, parties and playing games. This means that you need recovery time! You need time to kick back and relax, maybe even time to let the hangover fade. But no. WHAP! Monday.

If you aren't relaxed, you've done things. Usually fun things. You went on a trip, to a concert, a fair. Picnics, parties and playing games. This means that you need recovery time! You need time to kick back and relax, maybe even time to let the hangover fade. But no. WHAP! Monday.

There is at least one good thing about Mondays. Everyone has them. Yes, we can take solace in the simple fact that we do not suffer alone, and if we're lucky, some other sucker gets the worst of it!

Sunset

Daylight savings time is upon us again. As usual there are the inevitable questions of what we're going to do with the extra time each Spring. Now, I can't help but wonder why they ask that question on this day. We spring forward. We lose and hour. Sunset comes sooner, rather than later. At least it does today.

This of course brought to mind some of the spectacular sunsets Doug and I have shared over the years. I thought I'd post a few of the paintings of sunsets he's done here, to share them with you.

Memior

I think that one of the greatest difficulties in writing memoir is the need for not only inherent honesty, but a need for inherent brutality. Memoir requires that we, as writers, share moments of great darkness and pain in our lives. In order to fully explain these, we must share them. We must be able to give the reader the sensations of having been there, felt our pain, touched our agony. We must inflict that agony on them. A memoir of love and happiness might be a feel-good read, but it’s also a boring one.

The Things You Find

Have you ever looked at something and decided it was time to try it? Something you know you've never done before? Well, tonight I decided to create a blog. I logged on and viola! There was a completely ready blog! Everything I needed to do was done.... by me, two years ago. The design was selected. There was even a single entry. I do find it amusing that it was an entry admitting that I would probably forget that it was there and never write again. Well, at least past me was honest.

On Lust

I am my father’s child. How do I know this? I know this because of lust. There is a woman who lives upstairs from me. Her boyfriend is strong and handsome. Brazillian, he is stereotypically filled with passion. I lust after a part of their relationship. Not her boyfriend though, her power bill.

Nate turns off lights every time he leaves a room. My husband, Doug, leaves a trail of glowing light and roaring sound behind him wherever he goes. I’m not sure he knows that lights and televisions and radios can be turned off. I’ve never seen him do it. Perhaps he thinks that in dousing a lamp or silencing the television he is killing some small living spark that the rest of us are unaware of. If that is true, then my home is an ICU for the unknown lives so ruthlessly snuffed out around the world. Perhaps I am an unknowing genocidal maniac. I couldn’t say. What I know that I am is a cheapskate who would rather light the world with a smile for free than with a three-cents-per-day light bulb.

Welcome to Dark Thoughts. I'm not sure how often I'll be writing here. I tend to do a lot of things, so I get caught up and forget to do others. We shall see though.