I was supposed to be showing you a picture like this.....
...because I spent last week concentrating hard on getting small details to a point where I could finally paint the damn bird. Things like creating a nice edge between the cut area (belly) and the body. Oh, yeah, I told you how I overwound the first music box mechanism and searched all over for a new one right at Christmas then wondered how I would ever get her off of one and onto the other, right? Well I did all that but then worried about it happening again so rather than just gluing the ballerina/music mechanism and ornament in I figured out a way to make it removable.
Yeah- it was a real brain buster and let me tell you my house is a wreck/bills are unpaid/everything has been neglected. So I got through all of this finagle-ing petrified the whole time that I would break something and it would be unrepairable. Literally- at one point I was using gas grill lighter to melt plastic to create a "plate". I'm telling you, after this I am qualified to be lost on a deserted tropical island with a a group of people (think Gilligan's Island here) and I will make things out of tree fronds and sea weed to help us survive in comfort. Just don't ask me to cook- leave that up to Marianne.
I digress, again.
So, yesterday I painted the bird. Then I repainted it. Then I rubbed it, painted it, rubbed it, adjusted the color and said "Oh, my God, I love it!" Then, later when it was dry, I grabbed the bird, my soda-pop and headed for my lower level to take many pictures to show you all.
Ever fallen down a flight of stairs? It happens quick. The soda pop launced against the wall and the bird took flight. It was similar to the episode of WKRP (don't worry if this doesn't ring any bells- it was a 1980's sitcom- loved Less Nessman) where they thought it would be a good promotion to do a turkey drop out of a helicopter not knowing turkeys don't fly well. My bird didn't fly well, either.
My bird was broken on both wings and tail feathers. The plastic bulb protecting the ballerina had a split in it. And this morning I noticed that even tiny ballerina is in need of repair as both of her arms have hairline fractures. Arrgh, doesn't begin to describe my chagrin.
I might have yelled a bit. Especially when no one came running to see why I screamed the first time. And with soda pop pooling up on the new carpet I knew I had to deal with that quickly. So, I had to crawl up the stairs and limp into the bathroom to get a towel and get back to the toxic spill which I managed to do all of that before my Karate Champ Kalya brought me three tiny paper towels from the kitchen. Before you think badly of the nine year old let me tell you that the 7 1/2 year old never left the computer even though she heard me screaming for towels. Worse yet- hubby was in the garage and 'just thought Kalya spilled something again' and never bothered to check. I love them all though, I do.
I might not have been so upset except that I loved, loved, loved the way the wings turned out. I've never done feathers before. Not out of anything, paint or paper clay. I kinda thought if I could do this then it must be true that I could do anything. But the Chris Factor is never to be minimized, never.
Thank goodness that 'Chris' is a really determined chick. I have already started to repair the bird and it is turning out well so far. I will not be defeated by a horizontal trip down a flight of stairs. I will however use the guilt of a broken Mama to torture my family. I asked Brooke if she would rub my broken butt and she did answer "eeewww, uhh, errr, MAYBE!" in a squished up, raggedy voice that let me know that even though she would never forgive me for making her- she was kinda, somewhat willing to make my pain a little less. Ahh, the power a Momma has....brings me back to all those times I saw my Mother in her underwear and had to go to my happy place to get past it. Fluffy white bunnies, fluffy white bunnies....