my day at the circus

As it turns out, I got my sequin fix. Karena sent me this photo. Just a little test shot with her new camera. I love this picture.



Somewhere, packed away in a box of Very Important Stuff, is a picture of me at about age four, in a sequin encrusted pink piggy ballerina costume, complete with tutu, curly pipe cleaner tail, little satin ears, and tap shoes, which make no sense at all with a ballerina costume, now that I stop to think about it. But unable to find that scrap of my glamorous past, I spent the day in the studio, making quirky circus-themed beads. Most are small and sensible, sort of. And then, out of nowhere, came this big, strange hunk o' molten madness. I call it Mister Twister. See the tornado coming out of his mouth? It seems the Tornado Man is finally getting a taste of his own...



The story goes something like this:
At long last, the evil Mister Twister is trapped in a magical Big Top Prison, where he will spend All Time twirling in his own dizzy destruction. Never again will he wander the wide open land. Never again will he harm anyone but his own silly self. People flock to the Psycho Circus, and plunk down their dimes, eager for a peek through the one small tornado proof window. And when they go home, for the first time in their lives, they sleep and dream like peaceful puppies, knowing they are finally safe indeed.