The cool thing about doing jewelry design, as such, is that it gives you the opportunity to make people really happy. The kind of happy that makes them say "oh, wow" a lot, or cry occasionally--not that I want people to cry, but I get a bit of a buzz off of being able to connect with someone on an emotional level through art.
The cool thing about starting the Etsy site is that it has afforded me the opportunity to make these emotional connections more frequently.
Those of you who know me well know that in the past 7 years I have moved around A LOT. The upside to this is that I have met all sorts of amazing people, many of whom inspire me still. The down side of this is that until recently all of my closest friends were geographically far away. And through the miracle of modern technology, they are close at hand, but there is something to be said for an actual hand to hold in your dark hours.
Art has provided me with a way to deepen new friendships. This is not a benefit that I hear touted often but for me, as I have moved from place to place, it has been the biggest benefit.
That was a really long-winded way to get around to showing you what I was going to show you! A piece I created for my brother, the musician.

Look familiar? I totally scrambled it in photoshop to use for my header. But I still love the original and thought you might like to see it, too.

I don't really do flowers

The local art center is having an open show (no juries/no entry fees) and the theme is florals.
Flowers are not so much my area of interest, but I figure I should put something in the show. Et voila:
On the left is my homage to Brian Froud and on the right are three herbs to cure a broken heart.
Both have flowers IN them, so I'm hoping that they'll be accepted.
Otherwise, I guess I'll put them on Etsy.
Cheers!

Where...

I woke up this morning to grey skies, 55 degrees and a seagull screaming in indignation.
I woke because my first thought was that the seabird was one of my offspring, bellowing from the warm confines of their bed for me (which happens more oft than it ought).

We have seagulls here, on the very outskirts of Chicagoland. Is there any place they don't reside anymore? I remember their cries used to tell me I was near the shore--I could hear them calling 10 minutes before I would smell the delicious salty sea air, 20 minutes before I would run across hot sand to the cool Atlantic waters or warm Gulf currents.

Now we live an hours drive from the Indiana Dunes State Park. It's a close facsimile of the beaches of my youth, but the little clues are missing. Salty sea air? Nope. Trails left by sand crabs while we slept? Nope. The sand is sandy, some days there are waves that break upon the beach. The smell of sunscreen and the sound of shrieking children are all there. But there is a part of me that still yearns for the ocean. To come home and have your skin salt-covered, to smell the sea in your hair.