My cabochon beads are breaking, loosening the stone, and it's causing much unexpected project woe. I consulted Mom, and she thinks it may be my thread choice. Meanwhile, my poppies are starting to emerge from their hair-covered pods, and I couldn't be more thrilled. I. Love. Poppies. Since moving into my apartment a year and a half ago, their presence quickly catapulted them to the top of the favorite flower list. The original owner of the house must have been a master gardener, for there are the most lovingly organized beds one can imagine. There is always something blooming from early spring to late summer. It's my little tea garden oasis in the middle of the city.
In other news, my gal pal Jameson and I are just delving into a collaborative painting. Think puddle jumping meets turn-of-the-century liquor ads. I'll post the progress.
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