I'm Really Lucky.

Got some eye candy for ma ladies.

 Here's a little something. I gold foiled those big links, then rubbed them with some sandpaper to grunge it up and make the vague facet edges show up. It was a pain.

 When I got this choker base, it gave me the idea to join this unwieldy round piece and container thing.

 I used a big-assed rosey copper head pin on the focal and mounted two raku cabs on the sides.

A little foil, ox, seal and done.

 Here the thought was "let's use up some of these zillion pendants I have all over the place."

 I dunno. What do you think?

Oh, look at this pretty thing! Rough garnet and greek ceramic discs and a layered focal. 

 The shell is a white locket that I rubbed some gold highlights on.

 Oh look at this craziness! Raku cabs on salvaged tin with devil horns and a sweet bow made out of faux druzy. They were plastic cabs in a very plastic bracelet and I cut them apart with my wire clips.

 And you know what it's been forever since? It's been forever since I made any of my patented* mud-and-wax-paste sludge to grunge up a thing. Or in this case, to sort of bridge the gap between a thing and the thing that thing is glued to. Thing.
*No patent pending.

Here's a kinetic ring. "Kinetic" sounds better than "It flops around but I'm going with it." 

Pre-Columbian beads! No, not before the country of Columbia, but before Columbus got here. Duh.

 Here's some ancient metal. There's electro-formed slabs of layered stone with druzy tips. All patroness stuff. All of this!

 There's only one pair of earrings in this whole post for general consumption. But all this means I don't have to measure, I only take three pix of anything and never a size reference one. I don't have to worry about using expensive supplies in things no one's gonna buy. I don't have to describe it in a listing or come up with a clever title or quote. Or fucking tags! That's what having a patron means to me... God, I'm so sorry you guys, I didn't mean to be rubbing it in. But remember, before etsy I was a useless mess.  Like, lying in the gutter eating my own poop useless.
Aaaaaaanyways, these stones are REAL DIAMONDS. Very rough and raw, they dange under silver spoons with antique porcelain teefs found in a dentist's estate. Real but imperfect diamonds, fake but perfect teeth- fancifuldevices: for all your ironic symbolism needs.

As for my auntie time, within an hour of arriving in Wisconsin, I had a seven year old boy asking me, "Why do all girls have gainas with hairs?"
...

Which reminded me of a time with David when he threw a ball right into my crotch. He started laughing and said, "I hit your penis!" When I explained that girls didn't have penises and he said, "Oops, I forgot."
So last time there was a day he came over and was playing for quite a while without removing his outer wear. So jokingly I started going, "Take off your coat! Take off your scarf! Take off your hat! Take off your shoes! Don't take off your pants!"
"Haha! Cuz then you could see my underwear!"
"Yeah."
"Or even my penis."
"Um."
"I couldn't see your penis though."
"Ummm."
"Cuz girls don't have penises, hu?"
"That's right."
(Thoughtful pause.)
"I'm really lucky though."
"What? Why?"
"Cuz I get to have my penis!"