Category Archives: Signs

No water in the gut bucket…

beads that look like fish eggsHere is a set made with the technique used in my Comparmental beads.  While I love how they’re coming out, I’m not sure if they’re worth the effort.  Each bead needs to be priced at $15 each because of the time that goes into them. But the colors. Wow.  So, I’m still thinking on it.  I forgot about these and I think I redeem myself with the orange here.

The other thing is, and I hope this doesn’t gross you out (at least not too much) but they remind me of fish eggs.  Not those nice orange fish eggs you get in your sushi, although, yeah, maybe.  But the ones you find when you’re cleaning fish.

While that little tidbit takes me back to my years of spending summers with my grandparents in Minnesota, I’m not so sure that’s a good selling point for beads.  Hmmm.  Now I’m wondering if I could work it in somehow and have a really sappy story about my childhood to go with them.

fish eggs imageThe truth is, the summers were at my grandparents ‘resort’ that they retired and bought that consisted of 6 cabins in the woods that they rented out.  It was paradise in a mid-western kind of way, especially for this tom-boy of a girl.  The thing about cleaning the fish?  Well, that’s the not-so-sappy part…I used to hound the vacationers so I could help them clean their fish.  I’d get really excited when I could view what the fish had last eaten.  I know, gross.  But it was kinda cool, really, to a 10 year old.  I’d also walk around with a deck of cards in my back pocket willing to play Kings Corners with anyone that would humor me.

Should I mention that I still have a cousin who calls me ‘gut bucket’ as a nickname?  You see, there was this bucket in the fish cleaning house under the sink drain where you were to discard the fish ‘guts’.  My grandpa would empty it into this tank that was buried underground and throw lye (I think) in there every once in a while, to break it down, I guess.  There was a sign over this sink that read ‘No water in the gut bucket’ and somehow I/we made up a little song that we’d sing simply, ‘No wa-ter in the guuuut buc-ket’ in our best pseudo-country drawl.  If you ever meet me, ask me to sing it.  It’s a catchy little tune I’m sure you’d enjoy.