My bead love extends from my head to my toes. My beaded sandals took a tour of Cleveland last summer and this spring they are traveling here and there with me, but they have company. Donald Pliner has tons of beaded shoes and sandals in his collection: beaded loafer, beaded platform sandal, beaded slide, beaded thong, red thong. I love the poppy platforms. Right now I will stick to my old friends, unless I magically clear $260 in sales. When my students saw me in my beaded sandals for the first time this season they exclaimed, "OMG, you even have beads on your shoes." I am interested in trying out bead embroidery so that I can embellish some of my sandals. You can see that I have bunions and flipper feet which is one of the reasons that I find being able to wear sandals year-round the best feature of life here in SoGa. The second photo is a much more flattering angle for my tootsies.
On the edge of the Cleveland Museum of Art lagoon
At the top of the Garfield Monument
I am planning to head to Havana, Florida for a PMC (precious metal clay) class. I finally signed up for a class which is being taught at the Down the Street Bead Show. Unfortunately it is held outdoors under a tent and today we are having thunderstorms. I have my fingers crossed that they have a floor for the tent and that the rain clears. Papi and the dogs will be left alone here in Q'town to fend for themselves for the day, but I know that he has plenty on his to-do list - both real and imagined.
Since the carpenter bee invasion, Papi has been obsessed with the thought that the bees might have gotten into some tiny crack in the house or through the foundation vent holes and are busy excavating tunnels and installing their queens right this very minute. Life with an ocd spouse can be very interesting (and sometimes entertaining). The other day I watched as he straightened out a throw rug in the bathroom so that it was perfectly aligned with the grout lines on the tile floor. Naturally it took him a little bit, probably because he felt the need to count how many squares away from the tub and how many squares away from the wall he was placing the rug, and I noticed that the floor really needed to be swept and/or mopped. When I suggested that the dirty floor might be a problem for him he just laughed, "no, that doesn't bother me; I just want to get this rug in the right place."
Since the carpenter bee invasion, Papi has been obsessed with the thought that the bees might have gotten into some tiny crack in the house or through the foundation vent holes and are busy excavating tunnels and installing their queens right this very minute. Life with an ocd spouse can be very interesting (and sometimes entertaining). The other day I watched as he straightened out a throw rug in the bathroom so that it was perfectly aligned with the grout lines on the tile floor. Naturally it took him a little bit, probably because he felt the need to count how many squares away from the tub and how many squares away from the wall he was placing the rug, and I noticed that the floor really needed to be swept and/or mopped. When I suggested that the dirty floor might be a problem for him he just laughed, "no, that doesn't bother me; I just want to get this rug in the right place."
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