My mother always referred to an impossible search as a peanut hunt. I don't know where the expression comes from, or why she used it in lieu of a wild goose chase or looking for a needle in a haystack, but she just did.
My personal peanut hunt du jour involves looking for a small packet of gold leaf--somewhere in my studio. It's not in the box where it belongs, and I can't remember how many years it has been since I last used it. I think it was before I moved to the Aerie, and I suspect I took it out of its proper place to safeguard it during the move to the Aerie. BLAH! If my mother were still alive, she probably wouldn't have known where it was either, but she would have commiserated with me in my frustration, and would have agreed that it was a true peanut hunt.
I am working on a new mosaic piece, and want to use gold leaf on it. This may entail a special trip to Pearl Paint (but not on this cold and windy night).
So, here I am, figurative cup in hand, wanting not to borrow a cup of sugar, but a half dozen sheets of patent gold leaf (preferrably 22-23 carat). I'll reimburse you the cost, of course.
My personal peanut hunt du jour involves looking for a small packet of gold leaf--somewhere in my studio. It's not in the box where it belongs, and I can't remember how many years it has been since I last used it. I think it was before I moved to the Aerie, and I suspect I took it out of its proper place to safeguard it during the move to the Aerie. BLAH! If my mother were still alive, she probably wouldn't have known where it was either, but she would have commiserated with me in my frustration, and would have agreed that it was a true peanut hunt.
I am working on a new mosaic piece, and want to use gold leaf on it. This may entail a special trip to Pearl Paint (but not on this cold and windy night).
So, here I am, figurative cup in hand, wanting not to borrow a cup of sugar, but a half dozen sheets of patent gold leaf (preferrably 22-23 carat). I'll reimburse you the cost, of course.