Mohawk's Ponies

I've mostly been too busy to deal with anything pony, but I thought I'd take a minute to share this.

Normally I use fairly cheap acrylics for my customs — not quite bottom-shelf stuff, but decent craft quality, like Apple Barrel. A few weeks ago I was at the craft store for something unrelated when I breezed past the paints, then stopped, backed up, and peered at this new section.

I remembered seeing some ads in a magazine for these Martha Stewart brand acrylics, how they were supposed to work on more surfaces, etc. I was curious. I grabbed a bottle of what looked more or less like a good Rainbow Dash color, just to try. I didn't notice that I'd grabbed the satin finish, though honestly I'm not even sure that there is an absolutely matte variety.

It is an absolute pleasure to work with. The paint is creamy and even, and I barely had to add any water to it. It goes on smooth with very little trouble and feels pleasant to the touch once it's dry. Whereas Apple Barrel, Folk Art, and comparable brands have a sort of chalky texture, and the artist-grade tube of white that I have feels almost waxy, this stuff is brilliantly smooth and my fingers feel clean after handling it. It's a bit shinier than a factory pony, but not by very much. It also seems more durable than the other brands I've used.

The best part is the coverage, which is way more thorough than a paint this inexpensive has any right to be. The photo below shows two of my WIPs; although the original bait colors and the paint colors are very different, I looked at these very closely, and the level of coverage is about the same for both at this stage.

But in order to achieve the same kind of coverage as the new Martha stuff, I had to use three times as many coats of the cheaper paint.





So I just found my new favorite brand. I'm not sure how well different colors would blend together for mixing, but once my life settles down and I can work on customs again, this is definitely going to be my go-to paint.

...and I never, ever thought I'd actually go out of my way to recommend anything that has the name "Martha Stewart" attached to it.

Somehow I haven't managed to watch the season finale yet. The DVR failed to record the original airing and the repeats, and my computer has been slow to load YouTube for some reason.

Anyway.

Discord shipped off to his new home on Monday. I'll miss him, but at the same time it's a relief. When I make something with the intention of selling it, then in my head it's never really mine, no matter how much I may want to keep it. The longer he was in my possession, the more it felt like I had borrowed him from someone without asking.

Of course I do have a new stegosaurus friend that I just finished up yesterday to help fill the void. This plushie-making thing? I think I kinda like it. Seems I'm pretty decent at it.

Also: I think I'd like to avoid eBay from now on, at least for selling purposes. There are many dull and frustrating reasons for this, mostly related to the company's increasing unfairness toward non-corporate sellers. It might be time soon to rejoin the Etsy bandwagon. Contemplating possible store names now.

Also also: Birthday! I've got my eye on a couple of underpriced G1s online that I think I'll grab for myself. I haven't gotten new ponies since January and it's begun to grind on my brain in a most uncomfortable fashion.

But today I received a surprise Amazon box sent to me by one of my favorite internet friends, containing a Royal Castle Friends set. Brushable Celestia, you are my new darling! Sometime this week, if I have the time/motivation/memory to do so, I may do a short, photo-heavy comparison piece looking at the unexpected differences between standard molded-hair Celestia from the Friendship is Magic giftset and new brushable Celestia.

Princess, why you always come in gift sets and multi-packs? Or in a huge, fabric-winged, talking version? I'd be all over single-pack brushable Celestias of a normal size. I want to customize one (or several) like you don't even know.

(Unrelated happy note: I have just this moment seen the first hummingbird of the year.)

I went weeks in silence on this blog; now I spam you. Natch. April Fools, or something.

Do you like looking at pony shelves? I like looking at pony shelves. Here's mine right now, after that spring cleaning. It's all color-coordinated and shit, hooray! And very humble compared to what it could be.



(Most of my hundreds of books are in storage right now. Even after nearly a year, it's still bizarre having so much shelf space.)

A closer look:



Honeybuzz, Winona and Sun Runner's nameless dog, my depressingly tiny Applejack army, G3 McDonald's Butterscotch from the flea market, custom Sundog, Little Flitter, Tex, and an antique hardcover box set of Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass.

I opened up the curtains (it was a sunny day) and turned on all 3 lamps to take these pictures, and still the lighting in the room is that terrible. I might as well be living in a basement, I swear.

Most of the photos on this blog were/are taken in the upstairs loft, which has skylights. Yummy, nummy skylights.

When I first arrived, I actually had the opportunity to move into the loft instead of this dark room here, but it's at the top of very steep, open, low-traction, wooden steps that my dog cannot climb... and even if he could, there are no railings up there. I once lost my very well loved ferret when she fell from this very loft and broke her spine. Not an event I'd like to see happen again.

So until I move house again, I, my dog, and my pony display will all remain safely in this dim little room on the main floor. It'll help keep the ponies from fading, anyway.

Took a break from ponies for a while there. I couldn't help it: real life, etc. Enough was going on that I couldn't even find the energy to care about ponies. I ended up completely missing out on that fakie contest I signed up for.

In a stress-relieving bout of spring cleaning, I did end up carefully packing most of my collection away into a new storage system. Nine ponies and two G4 puppies remain on the shelf, color-coordinated like nobody's business. (Four of said ponies are Applejacks.) My original intention had been to put all the ponies away, but in the end I couldn't do it, even at the nadir of my ponylove.

C'est la vie. The shelf looks awesome this way, though. So much open space.

Two weeks ago I suddenly started caring again. I'm all caught up on new FiM episodes (and dreading what the latest anti-piracy spying/censoring measure might mean for the fandom).

I finished making my new pony plushie last week. Why is it every time I make two improvements to the pattern, three other things go wrong? Ah well. This is the last one for who knows how long. Pictures will be later.

I'm also at the final stages for my first two G4 customs, and the next-to-final stages for my G1 Rainbow Dash, whose paint work does not please me but I'm too lazy to fix now. Pictures will again be later.

Before any of that, back in February I received the custom made for me in the animal companions swap. My partner was Tinker and she also made me a dog to match my OC Sun Runner. Pictures will be later but will be worth the wait.

My box arrived today, woohoo! Three are drying off after their trip to the sink; the others didn't need it. Photos coming when the weather breaks... if it ever freaking does. *shakes fist at cloudy sky*

Also today I saw Toy Story 3 for the first time. Everyone was right: it is really sad, and really extraordinarily good. I mean, the first movie was fun, and the second so forgettable that I can't recall a single thing about the plot, but this one made me cry.
It also made me feel a little awkward about customizing. :/

( Very vague spoilers )

Adults tend to catch flak for keeping, displaying, or just taking care of their childhood toys, but this just isn't fair. It's damn near impossible to have spent so many hours of your life pretending that an object is real without developing some kind of real emotion for it.

I still regret allowing my childhood Moondancer to get so beat up that she's now custom bait. I still regret donating my Rattlin' Wrestler (if you don't remember these, and most people don't, they were huge four-foot-long plush snakes with rattles in their tails, and yes, they were big enough for a kid to wrestle with... he looked exactly like this but I don't have $75).

But I still have my stuffed tiger, who has been at various times named Tigger, Hobbes, Raja, and eventually just Tiger... and I'd sell all my ponies, all my books, my ukulele, my computer, my college degree, my passport, and my bike before giving him up.

We're talking about an inanimate object that has no practical, ethical, or even financial value. My books, uke, computer, degree, passport, and bike collectively have immense practical value, from communication to work and travel opportunities to invaluable stress relief to basic transportation, and losing them would hurt my life a great deal... but losing my tiger would hurt my soul. It would hurt me in a way from which there would perhaps be no true recovery, with no possibility of replacement. This is, of course, not even remotely rational.

And yet, there it is. Human beings are not rational.

My toys are not real, but my feelings about them are. I logged so much time in my childhood getting joy and comfort from these objects that the objects are now permanently seared into my brain, a direct and immediate pavlovian link to brief feelings of happiness.

Adulthood is not exactly associated with happiness, is it. You know what I mean. Why the hell would I give up something that can instantly, albeit briefly, remind me how to be happy? Just so visitors wouldn't snicker when they see my stuff? Who gives a shit?

I'm an adult man who collects these little girl toys because they made me happy when I was a kid and they still kinda make me happy, at a time in my life when not many things can. That's all, really.


I... wasn't expecting that to turn so... uh, personal. I'd planned to wax nostalgic, lightly and lovingly, about the role of childhood toys in adulthood. Must've taken a wrong turn somewhere, heh.