Out to the Big Lake Again

The second trek to Lake Michigan brought in quite a haul of small stones and only a handful of big ones. I seemed to be doing pretty well with the fossils. Among the best finds: favosites and some crinoids.

Translucent stones are easy to find in the water what with the ghostly shine and all. The granite shines as well and is easy to pick out. I think the only value is as eye candy. And boy do they look a lot like jelly beans!

As ever, we each got quite a load of Leland Blue. This haul yielded mostly the green and purple. The blues and bright aqua colors came up but only in bits too small to do anything with.

But there were treasures still... that teardrop in the photo is gorgeous. And I found a larger piece with the same sea green mottle. Stunning pieces really.

This mixed bag is just a sample of the kinds of things that one finds on these excursions. Mostly, blue chert. And I think that I may have found a variety of green chert. I'll need to get an analysis to know for sure.

In this bunch there may be a chunk of phrenite, possibly some green jasper.

And here we have another great sample, in a concentrate with one heck of a cool agate in the mix. This kind of agate is rare according my rock hound roomie.

Just imagine a jar of these on the mantle!

Summer Fun: rock hunting

If you are new to northern lower Michigan and Lake Michigan's shoreline you could be forgiven for mistaking the average beach scene for a clam digging party. It won't be clams that beach goers are hunting. Rock hounds, the popular moniker for a sub genre of tourist, hunt the popular yet elusive semi precious commodity stones: Petosky, Charlevoix, Agate and Leland Blue.

Rock Hounds range from casual hobbyists to rabid collectors and professional geologists. Many guidebooks aid the more committed hunter with identification, forming the foundation of a hobbyisttreats's knowledge base. And yet there will always be something beyond the known. Professional Rock Hounds generally enjoy engaging new comers to the sport, regaling the uninformed with a wealth of information. C&M Rock shop in Honor is a fountain of information. Bruce is always happy to sign a copy of his published works.

The beach is filled most days with curious eyes and hands. Serious collectors don't wait for the warm weather, they get to the beaches early in the Spring for the best of what Lake Michigan has churned with its ice floes. I am the average rock hunter, curious & looking for treats for the eyes. My housemate is a bit more serious. She reminds me very much of my mother's best friend, Eileen. Eileen was a professional lapidarist who initiated my passion for purple gemstones and beach combing. Eileen made her money traveling the country in a beat up yellow Datsun, from quarries to rock shows and home during Winter. In Winter her saws and tumblers ran constantly so she could produce finished pieces to ply her trade. My housemate is a hobbyist at the moment. She relates to rocks better than to people and doesn't think me the slightest bit strange for searching the surf splashed shore for "pretty things". I do not hunt for profit.

Agatized chert, fossils and perhaps some jaspers, with
chert, granite, maybe some gneiss and a quart piece in a
random photo of the shoreline from out first outing. 

I hunt for eye pleasing colors, patterns and shapes. I have since I was a kid. Contented for hours looking through the baubles on the shore. School taught me about fossils which is probably where all of it started. I've never had any belief that anything I found would ever be gem quality and net me millions. However, I always thought that the stones on the beach were precious to someone, even if only me. My mother didn't like me bringing home "the whole beach" because they were not valuable. I'm sure most mothers feel the same way. Many times in my life I have had a collection of stones in boxes or jars. And many times I have had to rebuild my collection.

The beach is a place of solace and energy. I always feel better in the water than on land. And I always feel better when my feet have been in the sand and tortured by the lake floor. If it is true that stones have their own energy that heals, soothes and imbues one with special qualities then the beach is just a natural rave. After our first trip out to the coast, I was so relaxed my blood pressure dropped below normal. This second trip I sunburned myself and didn't get the same effect though I did have a significant reduction in the blood pressure.

As if to prove it is about aesthetics and not value, this Summer I have been picking up a lot of Blue Chert. Only one geologist/gemologist acknowledges it as a specific kind of chert, separate from the common browns and reds... Bruce at C&M. He seemed amused that I was so enthralled by this worthless stone. Chert is not viable for commercial applications as it is a stone of surface color. When you slab chert you find a disappointing plain white interior of flint. Yep, that gorgeous blue stone that mocks sodalite is a piece of fire starting, arrow point flint. It's as common a mineral as you will ever find. But the blue apparently is found in few places around the world other than Northern Michigan. It can not be tumbled for the same reason that it can not be slabbed. It would have to be dipped or reside in an apothecary jar full of distilled water and sit on a shelf. What a shame. It truly does imitate the colors of sodalite. Which is perhaps why I find it so appealing.

Adding to the entertainment of rock hunting with the pros is the find that inspires jealousy. Hunting Petosky stones, agates and Leland Blue and finding bigger pieces or the first piece ahead of a true rock hound is especially fun. Especially when they are big pieces that are already well rounded by wave action. Petosky stones and Charlevoix stones are two types of colony coral fossil common to Lake Michigan. The Petosky is the State's stone, while it's cousin the Greenstone is the State's gemstone. Agates are a bit harder to find than the fossils. And the Leland Blue that rock hounds are currently obsessing over can only be found in Leland and Frankfort Michigan. And they are not even real stones.

Sitting on a piece of polished sodalite, chert (top) and two
pieces of Leland Blue (bottom). 

Leland Blue is slag that was dumped after iron smelting has been performed and before there were ever any environmental regulations regarding disposal of manufacturing waste. The slag glass makes for beautiful jewelry. The bluest of the blues with its foamy white bits is more a piece of the water than the earth. To me the best pieces are like picture jasper, they tell the story of where the piece has been. I haven't found yet any of what I consider the best pieces. I know other will argue, especially about the ones that mock agate, which seems to be the purple variety which is not common. Leland Blue goes for 30.00 a pound so my little collection from our second trip could get me a little bit of cash. But we will have to see how it polishes before parting with it.

Time after Time

Well it is time to do something with my skills or resign myself to mediocrity. I finally am with people who bellieve in me. Not just the new boyfriend (Hi, Sweetie) but with the friends I have reconnected with on facebook. The people who wandered away when I was distracted by the shiny new personalities haven't left me to the fates. Now that I am not distracted they have returned. I have the emotional support that I need to get things done. So there is no reason not to.

But I am scared. Everything depends on what I do next. They say you only have to change one thing... as though that makes it all ok. But that one thing they say... is everything! And the fear is right back where it was. I've also been told that if you aren't hungry enough for something you won't achieve. It is the primary motivation for being in sales. As I found out last night in a cattle call for new insurance agents. I have the right heart but not the hunger. My reserved nature isn't going to let anyone make money off of me. I don't do the hard sell. But I can get out and get my stuff in stores.

I am going to invest in a jewelery display box. I have great clothes for interviewing so that means I have great clothes for being my own rep. If I take my stuff to the shops now, get them on to the stores before Christmas I might make enough of a name to keep people coming back next year. If not it is there before the shopping season hits full swing.

And as my art goes? I have the connections. Why am I not making them?

Life gets in the way of a lot of things. My downstate trip being one of those things. So instead of being with a very sweet friend I stayed home. Well I didn't really stay home. I drove down to Beulah to go to the bead shop. I found some great deals and some unusual things to add to the stash. Then I hung out with Matthias Reim in the player. When I got home I made this necklace.

Monday was supposed to be boat day. Since I commemorate these events with a new piece of something artsy, I chose to find more denim coral and play in the lake blue pallette for a while. Boat Monday got preempted by a serious personal issue for sweetie. The locket with the pale blue facetted stone was part of a broach of Gramma Olive's. I already used the fleur d'lis in another piece and was tryingto find beads with the same blue and vibrancy. When I was in Beulah, I found the coral again. There are also some dark blue dyed beads made from cococut, some pale grey pearls and faceted glass & czech fire polish beads. I used some of Jill MacKay's metal links, some bars that I scavenged from another strand and a couple of links from a new Blue Moon collection. The beaded part is the same length as the chain links which is the same length as the single metal link strand attached to the clasps.

I call this Honor for two reasons. Sweetie may lose someone very special to him this week. The locket itself says you want to keep someone close who meant something to you. So for him, to know that these life events mean something. For me: I don't know that this event will let us keep our relationship so I am honoring us in this as well. It doesn't just acknowledge that we had a scheduling upset but that for what it was and while it was we were special.

Death has a way of upsetting the apple cart. I know that better than anyone else.

Here's the easy one

I had some down time while on my mini vacation. After a nap, I put on some music and created. My sweetie and I went out on a lake in the Metropark. Everywhere we went during the day we were rained on. I think that the intensity and volume of rain upgraded from cats and dogs to Klingons and Romulans. We were soaked. But around 5:30 the sky cleared up and the front passed leaving it a skosh cooler and very pleasant. There was not enough wind to take out the sail boat.

We went out to the metropark and rented a kayak. I've never been in a kayak. And it is a lot different from being in a canoe, which I can power like a warp coil in a Constellation class ship. The lake was beautiful. Surrounded by lush greenery as wild as anything around Lake Leelanau, fish jumped, birds quarreled and the clouds parted to let a golden setting sun shine on us with a cooling breeze. We were out for a while but it felt like only 5 minutes. Very relaxing and peaceful, I almost pouted in an attempt to wheedle another half hour out of him. He probably would have let me. We had a great conversation and plenty of time to soak up the atmosphere in silence.

Like all good things though, the evening ended too soon. So I have a momento: green facets reflecting the shimmering reflection of the greens on the water and fire polished facets for the setting sun with a speckling of purple for the odd bit of cockscomb that showed up on our walk.

A funny thing happened on the way to the laundry

I finally got my head out of my ass enough to get to the laundromat today. I'd been planning on it for two weeks but my heart and my head hurt so much that the thought of being out of bed when I wasn't at work was well... nonexistant. Sure I'd feel bad about that if I didn't know that grief does that to you. Besides, the only way to turn those feelings into anything helpful and productive is to process it. And there was a lot to process: system wide overload.

So I get to the laundromat and have my typical "Oh shit I'm in a new place how do I not make an ass of myself for not knowing the place like I know my own laundry room" 30 nanosecond panic attack. Got myself put together and put on the fake "A hurricane wouldn't phase me" attitude and went to change in my 20. Of course the attendent spotted me, the newbie, right away and gave me the tour. This laundry provides cups for the change machine so that your pants don't fall of your hips carrying 20.00 worth of quarters. Kinda felt like a casino with all that coin clinking into the metal tray. I got over that feeling really quick when I saw how much the wash cycles cost. Yikes is a profoundly understated exclamation. After loading 3 machines, setting up my laptop and cracking open a Dr. Pepper I settled in to keep up with facebook. I hadn't even gone through 3 notifications when I noticed the character in residence.

He was hawking his resale shop and talking at warp 4. He hit up a mom and her tween daughter, a set of goths and I thought, oh thank God I'm spared. He seemed to be ignoring anyone that looked busy. A freelance writer, the only other male in the place, was face to screen with his project. I was working, as I said, on letting friends know I wasn't dead. The freelance writer fetched the last of his clothes from the machines and the hawk swooped.

If only I had ignored my washers for another half an hour and kept my nose to my screen I would have been spared. But no, after wasting the laundry owners time with still occupied machines for half hour longer than the cycle ran, I put my clothes in the dryers. After reminding Mic what a card he is and finding that I will be working the next time the gang wants to get together, he pointed out my dryers were done. So I added coin and was cornered.

Today I am wearing a necklace constructed of two store bought strands, a store bought cameo pendent and the clasp from one of my grandmother's costume jewelery pieces (see photo). I'm also wearing a persian inspired patchwork vest with velvets and thick embroidery and lots of appearal trim over a deep purple camisole top, jeans and the "sexy" mules. I'm still in my 12 jeans but have done enough stupid things during emotional upheaval that I feel like a 14 and everything is tight again. Grrr.... once he saw the necklace I couldn't get rid of him.

He needs jewelery in his shop and he needs people who are willing to do consignment. Now, you know that I'm just dying to have the break of a life time so that I don't have to wear the fake confidence facade and can sit and assemble/paint/create/whatever without dealing with the rejection or trying to talk the goods up. I'm not a hawker. There is nothing high pressure about me. Besides that... discovery is an honor. Accepting wares after an arduous sales pitch is an obligation. I'd rather be honored. But I'd rather be honored by a legitimate businessman.

I listened to his pitch and his lofty plans because... well I'm just politely stupid like that. He had the right things to say about the necklace, meaning that he knew his stuff; the right things to say about the ensemble I am wearing today, meaning he knows complementary/analogous colors, motifs and his periods so he at least knows his arts. Where I think he went wrong was turning the burgeoning business arrangement into an opportunity to pick me up. "I love your eyes, their shape and their color. You have amazing curls" (that was an exageration) "that are perfect for the shape of your face." Another bad idea might have been guessing my size and saying he prefers women of substance to the skinny underfed runway models without personality. He his a high pressure sales guy with everything he is selling... including the "hassle free" coffee he'd like to have sometime. He is also bi-polar and has no internal editing button.

I don't know how to take this one. Either this falls solidly into the "It can always be worse" or loosely into the "Be careful what you wish for" category. Or it's just one of those fun stories to blog about.

la Bohemne

I've said before that I think I can trace Gramma Ada's people to the western rim of the Carpathian mountains, which, compared to Tepes' roost, is a series of speed bumps parted by swiftly flowing rivers headed for the North Sea. My mom used to call me a Bohemian when I displeased her, "Just like your gramma Ada." But when it came to the heritage homework at the beginning of each school year, Gramma Ada was Bavarian. And, as it turns out Bavaria, Bohemia, East Germany, Hungaria and some part of Czechoslovakia have all claimed a particular piece of geography at one time or the other. This oft claimed land is where the Lords of Lauenstein put down roots and rebellions while fomenting their own brand of religious and republican resistance. This land, I suspect, is the genesis of my wild Bohemian heart. The draw of it, all these generations later, must be the tie that binds me to Gramma Ada.
I am constructing a costume for this Halloween. I have only one place to wear it that I know of, the Psychic Fair at Higher Self. But I think that I will wear the basic blouse often... especially as I loose weight. I am in the process of gathering materials for the embellishments. I spent the last two days in the bead aisles at our BB craft stores. The gypsy in me started drooling when she gotto Michael's. And when I reached out for something that was remarkably like the German/Bavarian silverwork from the 1500's in my History of Jewelery book, Gramma Ada stood next to me.
I know that sounds weird. I did not see, hear or touch her. Nor did I smell any weird floral essense as is commonly described. What it was was a presence, silent but aching with the desire to tell me her stories. How do I know it was Gramma Ada? With each piece I was drawn to that is outside of the style I normally choose for myself I felt connected. And the piece brought images to my mind from so far back in the 1900's that I could not possibly have been told about them by my mom. The impression my empathic little sefl had was the start of a story that began with, "I had something like this as a girl." or "My Aunt so and so used to wear _________ like this." I sensed an appreciation for a color and texture of fabric, for a place in the woods, a shop along the riverside in Hamburg or Hannover [fachwerk is a dead give away that you're in a German town]. I also had the impression that a finished piece in her mind was being held up to me for my approval.
In the eeriest part of this spiritual connectivity experience to date, I did to myself what I've done to my brother. I made a statement to myself, spoken with abslute sureity regarding the decision process. One of the product lines is composed of keepsake pendants. These are constructed like the epoxy pieces Lynne Perrella and Tim Holtz make. The metal plate has a narrow bevel like a picture frame, a piece of ephemera is cut to shape and placed on the bottom then a resin is used to fill in the piece. Anything can be "preserved under glass" like this and it makes an attractive cabachon that is less expensive and more believeably attained than a cab of semi precious stone would be. The aisle was full of eye candy. My hands reached for all sorts of things. Then my inner voice, the one that talks to me from Nieve's perspective, said "You need to have a story for each piece. Be selective. Be sure you can tell the story that goes with it." I put a beautiful but uninspired piece back on its hanger. My voice then said, "You've been all over the world," I was looking at a decidedly Middle Eastern/Turkish (not Ottoman) piece of scroll work, "Yes, you've been here [Islamic world]. You've been everywhere." I reached for Asian pieces, began to collect charms of bizzarre creatures; griffin, chinese dragon, seahorse & thought back to the St. George lion I found at JoAnns. And as I moved form one intriguing piece to the other, I felt the voice start to tell a story. Well it wnate to tell a story but I couldn't stand still long enough.
I had so many ideas running through my head of how Iwould present each piece in the costume. My type A mind was trying to make its image of me in costume picture perfect and flattering rather than organic. And just as I was virtually trying on piece after layered piece, rejecting one and replacing it, the voice and Gramma Ada chastized me with the same word. "Organic. A gypsy doesn't plan her look. She wears her collection." I have to look like I've been collecting for a while now. Ridiculous, I thought. This is the most farcical conversation I have had to date. So I left with my parts to construct the belt and went to Aroma's to do some research.
The first site I landed on was for Gypsies around the world to connect that offered advice on how to gather and present a renfaire gypsy costume authentically. And that site said this much: if I want brocades I'd better have a damn good reason for having expensive material in any amount because your guild will chew your arse. And on another site, one I will book mark, the author said that ephemera and jewelery is gathered, scraps and bits get attached because the gypsy has no where to store her possessions other than on her person. For those of you keeping score at home, VIMH 2 : Me 0. Gotta love those stats.

Beading Rainbow

I made a day trip to Honor and Beulah today. It is my yearly trip to C&M Rock Shop and the Beading Frenzy. I was hoping to find many wonderful tokens of mother Earth's appreciation to use in my Interchangeable Chokers. I found a ring setting and a few very nice stones. The selection was rather thin in the polished stones department. At only (price redacted) the make quite a nice impression. I usually choose stones that will allow me a lot of freedom in color matching. This usually means agates of some kind. I did find a gorgeous piece of tiger eye that had green blended into it. I didn't buy it because I knew I had nothing at home to match it in visual texture or colorization. All in all, I never feel like I've wasted a trip even if it is a short trip. Today I did. There was a huge bowl of peridot stones. Itty bitty little things. They weren't drilled. They were useless for jewellery. I was hoping to finally get to the Jack O'Neill inspired piece. Alas... not this year.

The Beading Frenzy was quite a nice surprise. They've moved buildings and the prices reflect that new additional overhead smell. But I found some really great pieces. First, the findings. There are great new clasp and string sets with magnetic closures. No way can hair get stuck in those(Big Grin) and they are lightweight with excellent tensile strength (Bigger Grin). And at (price redacted) they are a good deal for regular necklaces. I was hoping to find the same thing in anklet lengths. But I think that I will have to buy just the magnetic parts. The one kind that I did like a lot for it's ease of use has two holes to run the stringing material through. The larger hole is covered by the opposing magnet so that all you have to do is tie a knot in the string. Then you pull the string through to bury the knot inside the barrel of the clasp. Nice, uncomplicated and definitely not messy. I will most likely have to make another trip out there as I don't know that Nawbin carries either kind of finding. BF also had snakeskin something or other and I found something called denim coral. It is a fully saturated coral the color of jeans. Wow what a concept. It am thinking to do a seaside motif with them as I found seahorse charms. I know, very obvious. But what it not so obvious is the inspiration for the design floating behind my eyeballs.
One of the head pins had a flat spiral design that I thought would make a nice "Under the Sea" motif while I have the Greek pantheon in mind again (see Sherrilynn Kenyon's works). Unfortunately the gauge of the pin wouldn't allow me to string the denim coral on it. So I will have to buy a chasing hammer and make my own. Now the next question I have... did Fredo take Grampa's small anvil when he took the grinding wheel so that I couldn't sharpen the mower blades? Hmmmmmmmmmm...

Well, see ya next time.