Nevermind who's got the focus, somebody tell me how to find my own stash of it? Seems like this is a neverending topic of discussion with me lately. I'm starting to feel as if my glass melting personna has been turned upside down on her head and can't get rightside up again. . . and that whole expression reminds me of a family story about 4 or 5 year old me. It involves a very big black couch in my grandmother's living room, a very dark corner created where the couch arms were pushed up against a wall, and a tiny voice calling from her headfirst in the hole position, "Would soooooooooooomebody pleeeeeeeeeease help me?"
Hmm, I guess, in comparison, my situation today is not so dire :-)
Surely, there are bigger ideas giving pause to the world's thinkers, ya know? Like, exactly how are we going to link the washing machine and the dryer so they will each know what color sock the other one ate during the last load of laundry-- because we sure can't have them getting their act in sync and eating a pair of socks at a time, that would make things too easy. Maybe the higher powers of the world are sitting on their back deck, drinking an adult beverage (or an herbal tea, depending on which higher power), and scratching their heads while trying to figure out why they couldn't get the knack of successful dinner party seating down pat before they created a bunch of different cultures and threw them onto the earth palette like so many random splats of paint-- because we sure could've used some planning so the meat eaters wouldn't have to worry about the smoke from their fires wafting over to the vegetarians' backyards and creating an instant animosity between people who would otherwise have been quite happy to get together and play a game of croquet or Yahtzee or somesuch. Yeah, I imagine the thinkers of the world have their hands full with the big stuff.
So, that leaves me to contemplate the small stuff (aren't you a lucky reader?). The small stuff is this: I like to melt glass, but melting glass takes uninterrupted stretches of time, as well as space for glass melting stuff and space to actually store the stuff made when you were happily melting glass. I've been weaning myself off of the glass melting for months now, for a bunch of little reasons that keep adding up and tipping the scale towards the put-the-torch-away-for-now option. Slow sales of extras (and art is an "extra" when compared to food and housing and other essentials), kids out of school for the summer (and we all know about the Family Guy lip-reading episode earlier this summer), and the need to sort through almost 9 years of stuff (and happily, pack it because we are moving closer to St. Louis very soon-- as in the end of September soon, as in dangit-I-should-be-filling-boxes-right-this-minute soon) have all converged into the artistic version of a perfect storm.
And what does Ang do when faced with an artistic perfect storm? She piddles. No, I don't mean she pees on the floor. I mean she piddles around with this little craft or that little project. Instead of just blocking out two or three hours to torch (still a possibility because I haven't made it as far as the studio in my packing adventure), Ang will spend twenty minutes here, looking for a picture to inspire a sketch to inscribe on a piece of copper, then she'll spend fifteen minutes over there, wondering whether she should keep all those Thomas the Tank Engine videos even though James outgrew them years ago. She'll follow that with thirty minutes of looking for the perfect piece of junk to use for a base for a candle, forgetting which candle and why she was fixing it by the time she finds the piece of junk. Let's see, we're already up to 20 + 15 + 30 minutes that could've been 65 minutes of uninterrupted torching time now that the kids are in school again.
Why am I sitting here writing this, then? Because I'm waiting for a phone call to see if one of the kids can get in to see the doctor. Because I need to take this or that paperwork to the bank. Because I'm the Empress of Procrastination and Disorganization and would hate to spoil my reputation by actually seeming to "have it together." Because when I get up from this chair I have to go to the kitchen and decide exactly how many freaking coffee cups are needed in a household where two adults each drink one cup of coffee in the morning (plus another single cup for me in the late afternoon). Because after the coffee cup dilemma is resolved, then I'm going to have to explain to myself yet again why it's necessary to keep three dozen t-shirts that I "can't live without" when I know there are only seven days in the week.
Guess I'd better say ta-ta for now and get to filling boxes! Actually, I am very excited about the move. It's going to be great! I'm just wondering if there's a fairy godmother of moving who's going to show up and wave her wand and take care of all the details. . .