Hairball Horror, and Passable Pic's

Oldies week

Buddy the Cat
 

 

Wed, 9/14

I got on a burn to work, and put in long days Sunday, Monday, and yesterday. I got all fifteen pieces, new and old,  cleaned up, polished, photographed, and ready for the show. Well, mostly ready. There is always something...

Like putting the house back in order... 

tomorrow

The camera is not my friend. I bought the digital SLR a few years ago to photograph Pete Hampton's work. I figured a good camera would make up for some of my lack of experience and skill.

No. Doesn't work that way. A camera is like any other instrument. It's only as good as the player. If you can't play guitar well,  a better guitar won't help. Same with a camera.

The pictures all came out OK, even though it took extensive work with Photoshop to get the .jpg's right. I can do a passable mug shot, but the stones need  real photography. This piece of Italian ice is the first 'large' (over fifty pounds)stone that I worked. I gave some of the carvings titles back then. "Rillion" just sort of popped into my head.

 "Rillion" 1997

Italian crystal alabaster

 "Radio Girl" 1998

California stone. Pink & brown alabaster

I'll have some more coming up soon. Maybe later on in the week.

Oh yeah. The hairball horror.

You want hairball? 

hang on.

Tuesday 9/13/22

Some time last week I picked up a piece of what I thought was dried mud from the floor in my den. It wasn't mud, though. It was a chunk from the sole of my slipper. I've had these slippers since forever, and they're falling apart on my feet. 

Time for a new pair. Now, this is not a particularly huge deal in the mostly uneventful stream of events that makes up my life. I looked on Amazon, Saturday morning, and ordered a pair of Minnetonkas. Got next day delivery, and on a Sunday, to boot!

I has been hot, and Mary and I have been sleeping on top of the covers with a fan blowing over us all night. My dear old pal, Buddy the Cat has claimed the space just above my head, settling in between the pillow, and the cool wall. Saturday night, as I drifted off, "new shoes tomorrow" was tumbling around with all the other stuff in that dim cascade of  thoughts that precedes sleep.

I'm an early riser. I opened my eyes at 4:30 Sunday morning. I rolled up into a sitting position, and my first murky thought was, "This will be the last day I use those old slippers." I bent down, and groped around in the dark until I found one. I took hold of the slipper and got a grip on something squishy, cold, and hideously wet and slimy.

Goddamn cat pitched the hairball from hell right into my slipper.

I went "YAAARRRGGGHHH," and said the "F" word. 

Loud. 

And then I made a mess of retching and gagging noises. 

There are advantages to being hard of hearing.

 Mary slept through it. 

I threw the slippers, hairball and all, into the trash.

So there I was in the kitchen, making coffee in my bare feet. Buddy the Cat, and the Skinamalink showed up to beg for some fish.

"MEOW."

 I was in no mood to humor the cats.

But I looked down and got that 'poor hungry cat' look. I caved, and they got their damn fish. I sat in the green chair in the living room waiting for the coffee to brew. Buddy the Cat came in wanting pets and scratches. He butts his head against my leg. "Meow. I though you said you didn't need the slipper anymore..."

*sigh* Cats. 

Oh. I got the Minnetonkas Sunday afternoon. They're great, but I hide them from the cat.