Saturday, February 8, 2014

Ring, Bangle and Birth.

 

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I know exactly where I am going with this.

Trust me .

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My first name was Birth for her.

But then I changed the design and so the name became irrelevant.

I’ll name her when she becomes more mature.

Everybody becomes more mature—even Rump steak.

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I made this ring for a very nice local lady with her old gold.

She picked it up yesterday and was most happy with it.

It is not often the Germans are very pleased from the beginning.

 

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On the other hand………………………………

You don’t seriously think that she would be happy with the first attempt at setting the bangle, do you?

Ha!  Bare skin might look cool on Mayan virgins,  but not on gold bangles that ‘ol Hansie sets.

She didn’t like the bald spaces between the catch and the hinge on the other side of the bangle.

That face---- when she looked at it first………………..that face.

 

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Sigh.

We space and drill.

Thing is that the top of the bangle  was not set by me.

So I have to copy the other setter’s style, as it were.

That’s why the holes look all random.

His gravers were all different angles and stuff.

 

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Anyway, you can see the difference between his setting and mine in the photo, but not really when it’s viewed live.

Let’s see what happens  kamoso……….

UPDATE  She came in today and even though there was still a moan about the remaining space, it went well.

In total I set 217 stones and the whole bangle has 420 stones for a total of 12 carats of diamond.

An expensive piece of hardware.

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You know, I  dislike cops  authority as much as I dislike Catholic kiddie fiddler priests and Justin Bieber.

This dick cop was giving the chick in the white car some serious uphill, while he was holding up the entire queue at the back, and the only reason that this picture was taken was because of the deafening of wail of hooters that were waking up the dead behind him and dragged me and my camera  from my bench.

There are two things Germans like to do, and that is to furiously hoot in queues--- as if that is going to help.

The other is to blow their noses.

They blow their noses as if it is some type of mating call.

It freaks me out something terrible when I am sitting in a restaurant and some toss wrinkle hauls out his or her handkerchief  and     BRRAAAAW!!!   lets loose with a train hooter.

I can just imagine these fine micro particles of  green snot wafting over my food.

Gross man, gross.

And they do it ALL the time, everywhere.

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I photo'd this little guy on my microscope stand the other day.

Insects are so rare here that it’s like seeing one of the big five in the Kruger Park—great excitement for me.

Even a 1mm spider

Anyway, the next thing he simply rose to the ceiling.

Pow, just like that.

What the youngling did is to cast a line out and then the hot air from my bench light grabbed the silk and pulled him into the sky.

The building shook as he hit the ceiling.

In Botswana sometimes the sky would sparkle with millions of silk threads in the afternoon sunlight as the younglings dispersed themselves.

So now you know.

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