A Week

This sewing thing. When you're not making tailored lined jackets, it goes quite quickly.

I made a top to go with the floral skirt from last week, which turns out to be quite a nice pattern. I'd like to make a dress like this too.

In the process of chronicling the construction of the ppink-centred flower from last week, another ensured.

Lentil beads seem to be cropping up all over the place lately, though the ones in ths flower have been in my stash for quite a few years. WOuldn't you know it though, these petal beads are few and far between (I searched online this morning and found two at a single store, one on clearance. I could find no others in stock anywhere, though my search was probably not exhaustive. I don't think there is such a thing as an exhaustive search, though I guess there are degrees of thoroughness).

I finished a sample for a future class (Cru, July 10th at Lady Bug Beads - come join us!) which I think may not be a sample (since I already have one), but might belong to someone. Me, for instance.

My last class before I leave for Europe is this coming Thursday, so I need to have the next set of samples complete before then, because I'd like to have absolutely nothing that keeps me awake at night on vacation.

I'm pretty excited because y'know, vacation, not at work, that sort of thing.

We're going places I never thought of going until they were strongly recommended (Krakow, Split, Dubrovnik), places I've always wanted to go (Prague, Budapest) and well, Geneva, because that's where my daughter's graduation happens.

Ironically, taken as I am with things bead-related, even though we will be in the country where many of the beads I use on a daily basis are made (Czech republic), I'm unlikely to get to a bead factory as it's not terribly high on (or even on) my travelling companions' list of Things They Would Most Like To Do In Prague.

And even though there are so many Hungarian beading blogs from which I draw inspiration, and even though I believe (I know very few words of Hungarian) that some of them are affiliated or associated in some way with bead stores in Budapest (the pictures of the inside of something that looks suspiciously like a bead store is my strongest clue here), it's unlikely that I'll get to a bead store in Budapest either, unless we happen upon one somewhere near something else we're doing anyway. Not that I plan to be unprepared, mind you.

I think I can actually live with that because truly, apart from the souvenir aspect, it's not as though there's this horrible shortage of beads within armslength from me right now as I type, or even within driving distance, so it's not a question of need at all.

Still, were it possible, between trips to the Sedlec ossuary and torture museum, I wouldn't exactly turn down the opportunity.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I wish there were more hours in the day.

Since my last blog post you'd think I'd have managed to turn out a whole lot more than a little flower, a necklace and a simple top (there's also a partially-completed top and some too-crumbly granola bars, but I suspect that's even less fascinating), but the truth is that there are things that keep one busy and happy, after which one has absolutely nothing to show for them besides ticket stubs.

David Sedaris stopped by on his biannual tour (which doesn't always pass through this locality), for which I am grateful, because those are two hours I consider well-spent, as opposed to killed. He gaily talks about his love of the grotesque which he shares with two of his siblings, but the truth is that his audience must also in some small measure share it too, perhaps not quite as directly as he does, but certainly in the nature of gawkers.

I've mentioned before that I grew up with Classical ballet, and I might even have said that my favourite of such ballets is Swan Lake and how sad it is that the opportunity to see it is so rare.

The ballet company performing it two nights ago is undoubtedly not the calibre of most of the companies that I'm fortunate enough to see with my annual subscription, but they did a credible job all the same.

Actually, I take that back after watching this video. I was so delighted to be seeing Swan Lake, any Swan Lake that I overlooked the way that when the men did anything in which both feet left the ground, there was both a palpable winding of springs followed by a collapse and disbelief that they'd landed without falling over after the flight, rather than a graceful, effortless and smooth change in elevation. Similarly the women were hesitant, sloppy and reserved in their movements, rather than dancing with confidence, every muscle acting in concert, every position complete and pure in its entirety. Odile dances in the video with such grace and attention to form and line that there are no awkward and less-than-beautiful positions as she moves from one beautiful arabesque to another.

The costumes and sets were very nice though.

I think I may need to take a trip somewhere to see a really good ballet company do Swan Lake because all this did is make me want more and better.