A fair amount of what I do doesn't come from the perfectionist part of my brain. Yes, there's a small segment labeled "tight ass."
No "Type A" happening here with any regularity but with some tasks I dig deep and glazing my paper beads is one of those tasks.
I glaze each and every single one of those little suckers with 3 coats of hand painted glaze.
Sometimes that pesky Ellen Good-enough will whisper in my ear while I'm glazing and say, "Come on, El, who's going to know if there's one or three coats on 'em? Give it a rest, sister, your eyes are crossing and your favorite show is coming on in a few minutes. Wrap it up!"
Then Ellen the Good pipes up loud and clear. "Who's going to know? You will. It will haunt you when you try to sleep tonight. Besides - I'll still be screaming in your ear. SLACKER!!! So buck up and keep telling yourself how pretty your little babies look all shiny and happy."
|Don't they look like little soldiers standing at attention? Can you hear them chanting "glaze me, glaze me." Three times?|
|And so I do. All the while listening to the sage advice of Ellen the Good.|
|Don't they look happy? See their little smiling faces. Doesn't it bring a tear to your eye? Yeah, me too.|