tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51748163786022127532024-03-27T04:16:57.625-04:00luck and blissErinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.comBlogger237125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-74045728739703494112012-01-05T09:36:00.002-05:002012-01-05T09:48:56.490-05:00New Year, New...You guys. It's that time of year again. You can't spit around these here internets without hitting some company or another hawking the "New Year, New You" shtick.<br />
This morning it was Forever 21. Now, I love me some F21, but it seems to me that the average age of the girls lurking en masse in the store is maybe 19 years old? Or like Fetus. Can We use minus numbers?<br />
Which makes me all<br />
"DUDE. you're not old enough to HAVE an old you. Now get your dewy skin and perky boobs outta my way. I got cheap jewelry to peruse"<br />
Now before I come off as a completely bitter crazy person (too late? oh oh.) I should say that my main problem with New Year, New You is that I like the <i>old</i> me.<br />
I do.<br />
Quite a lot actually. And it took me AGES to get to like the old me, having to get to like an all NEW me, well I don't think I have the energy.<br />
Which is not to say that I don't <i>get </i>the sudden need to take 5 spin classes in a row and swim until I'm a prune. My festive All Pie and Cookie Diet and 3 weeks of gym dodging has caused me to jiggle more than I like to.<br />
But that doesn't mean i want an all new me, it just means I should prolly think about what I put in my mouth and maybe do a bit more running around for a few weeks.<br />
And I know that it sometimes isn't that easy. I REALLY know, I am a person who has been "overweight" and has had a complex relationship with food for my whole life.<br />
But I'mma say RIGHT NOW. These aren't the things that define me. So changing them doesn't make me a whole new person. And that is all. Rant over.<br />
I'm not going to get into the whole body image thing (at least not this morning) I need more coffee and I get so angry I spit a little. It's gross.<br />
Now. New Year, New Shoe... there's a concept I can get behind.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-65720000433929498572011-12-28T11:57:00.000-05:002011-12-28T11:57:25.131-05:00ChristmasIt came! Finally! After roughly 20 days of 6.30-in-the-morning "is it now? is it today? is it today? is it? is is? IS IT?"<br />
And you guys! It was for sure my best Christmas as a grown up, and maybe my best one ever. There were gifties and roast beast and fambly and chums and food. SO. Much. Food. And Lovely Little Things. And a bit of boxing day shopping with my sweetheart. (We hardly ever get to spend time, just us; so even though there were a squillion other people out bargain hunting, I got to hold his hand and it FELT like it was just us. It was super fun. Wait, is that too smooshy? Did you barf in your mouth? Sorry.)<br />
Here's a picture of a Thing I Made to take the taste away...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjBgJOP12bBBGcREJ_eMR1HiBCl1g4H896xfTgz2VtWBDrG2XU6Cn3mLQZNxeeDcd-PaLXhfCV-wczWT8sbyJXOIYVbjQIoKqtMMkpoDUtZ9ceNmpK5mdOlCeStlcoMhQKTVnUcXokdoE/s1600/squashed+shawl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjBgJOP12bBBGcREJ_eMR1HiBCl1g4H896xfTgz2VtWBDrG2XU6Cn3mLQZNxeeDcd-PaLXhfCV-wczWT8sbyJXOIYVbjQIoKqtMMkpoDUtZ9ceNmpK5mdOlCeStlcoMhQKTVnUcXokdoE/s320/squashed+shawl.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It's a <a href="http://www.thebrokeassbride.com/">small talk shaw</a>l, what I made for my good friend (and my kid's honourary Granny) for Christmas. I like how it turned out and my sweetie saw it like this (pinned out, being blocked) and was all "OH hey! It looks like you steam-rolled an angel's wings!" Which is maybe sacrilegious? But completely adorable.<br />
BUT, you know when's a good time to start as large and complicated project? Any time but two weeks before Christmas.<br />
<br />
So. That's mostly what I've been doing, well that and a tiny bit of hiding, Hiding and thinking about blogging and what I do here a bit. My last post was kind of depressing, and maybe off-putting for some people? But I think I'm OK with that. In real life I do over-think things. And I WANT to live a well-considered life, even if I sometimes feel like a stupid, or give myself an un-necessarily hard time. Or am misinterpreted. So. I'm going to do that here too. And risk a swathe of unfollows. Because it's worth it, and the kindness and encouragement of strangers (whom I would, for serious, hug until the were a tiny bit uncomfortable) is totally worth it.<br />
So, moving swiftly on.<br />
This year looks like it's going to be (in the words of my kid) "Super-Rad". I have some pretty exciting stuff happening* and I pretty much can't wait to tell you about it.<br />
But I can't JUST yet. So here's a picture of the new baby that I am auntie to...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZBU-RlL_vtGlbTjKgSjzzPFQXayAmBrGxyfvxfx5w-xXXEDjOoYMLle9NaWDSTB5BLeMYFSHACTDzkvx4bvEMIL5tk6M18W-OIfU8C_tTJg3e-XO8A8PFEJ7GjQXIhKuEyizWRX23oEI/s1600/my+close+up%252C+ready+fer+it.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZBU-RlL_vtGlbTjKgSjzzPFQXayAmBrGxyfvxfx5w-xXXEDjOoYMLle9NaWDSTB5BLeMYFSHACTDzkvx4bvEMIL5tk6M18W-OIfU8C_tTJg3e-XO8A8PFEJ7GjQXIhKuEyizWRX23oEI/s400/my+close+up%252C+ready+fer+it.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
His name is Brutus and he is entirely made of swagger and puppy parts. And smoochable wrinkles. He is, you guys, TOOMUCH. It's a good thing he doesn't live with me or his leggies would atrophy from his being carried around and smooched all the time. OK.<br />
That is all.<br />
x<br />
*I'm not pregnant, that's always the first thing I think of too, so I'm just clearing that up.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-25220095923388975342011-11-28T16:02:00.005-05:002011-11-28T20:28:09.193-05:00I need to apologise to someone.<br />
She is unlikely to see this, but I want to put it out into the world anyway.<br />
So, lady in the playground, with the pretty little pixie of a two and a half year old. Who we have seen in passing a few times and finally spoke to today. I'm really sorry. I choked. I really hope I didn't hurt your feelings.<br />
<br />
As we were leaving the playground we talked about Teddy's balance bike. I asked how old your pixie is. We agreed that two and a half is fun-but-exhausting.<br />
I asked if you lived around here.<br />
And you were brave. You said yes, temporarily. You were staying at R- House. And I said "huh?"<br />
And you explained that R- House is the Woman's Shelter over-that-way.<br />
And that's when I choked. Not literally, but conversationally.<br />
I said "Oh I didn't know it was there. And OH HEY, do they accept donations of baby clothes?"<br />
And you were polite, and said perhaps, that there was a room of donated clothes. And you went to catch up with someone you knew and I wanted to kick myself in the ass.<br />
I wish that I had said pretty much anything else instead of what I did; which was, to all intents and purposes, "OH hey, I'm a lucky, privileged do-gooder and you're a charity case". <br />
Walking home I had that horrible mix of mortified and angry-with-myself, the kind that sticks in your throat and makes your eyeballs smart.<br />
So. There we have it.<br />
<br />
You know, today's post was going to be where I outed myself as a personal style blogger and waxed lyrical about the job of parenting and clothes and body image and yadda yadda yadda, I've been thinking about those things a lot recently. Perhaps tomorrow I will feel like words are my friends instead of chunky rocks to throw.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-42296522525614990292011-11-16T10:56:00.001-05:002011-11-16T10:56:17.000-05:00<i>This isn't really a post it's just something I want to remember.</i><div>So, my sweetheart set up these guys last night for my poor, bored bear (and me) to find.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJkZaKNeszVzWhB13pu6kGRvYrK3gi2gRHSpcjcPCr04kiBkq2ErfXRDeiWK8vaxpieMDgJsClAgn0-3Jo6AV6T6R24kDkB9QvmER-Eu6wJNEEDfBVp67Dz-x_fTba-bHg_4qTuSd9WKM/s1600/hank+and+the+guys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJkZaKNeszVzWhB13pu6kGRvYrK3gi2gRHSpcjcPCr04kiBkq2ErfXRDeiWK8vaxpieMDgJsClAgn0-3Jo6AV6T6R24kDkB9QvmER-Eu6wJNEEDfBVp67Dz-x_fTba-bHg_4qTuSd9WKM/s320/hank+and+the+guys.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's Hank, Mr. Penguin and Leroy Brown (baddest dog in the whole damn town) doing a spot of camping. And it looks like some pretty fun times actually. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In conclusion, I love that man. Like, a LOT. </div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-21798684763891116082011-11-16T10:09:00.003-05:002011-11-16T10:12:46.508-05:00kids = ebola (and pinterest!)Preschoolers; they're adorable germ-laden plague-bearers. Nothing quite like a feverish, booger-beladen kid to put a crimp in one's <strike>day</strike> week. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Seriously? A week? Poor baby is bored to tears. But he sounds like Lauren Bacall after a heavy night (which is actually completely rad, just not on a 3 year old).</span></i><br />
<div>And cause some terrible guilt.</div><div>The guilt thing is 'cause, I, um, didn't even notice he was sick. </div><div>We went out for Dim Sum with his Granny H, and he was a kind of tantrumy then kind of sulky. Both of which are really of out of character*, and both of which get pretty short shrift from me. It wasn't until we were in Holt Renfrew trying on perfumes-I-can't-afford that I noticed that he was sweating like crazy and had a blistering fever. </div><div>Yah. Nice job me. Apparently I won't be winning the Parent Of The Year award, AGAIN.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Oh well, he can start saving for the therapy now.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Oh, and he's infectious. Which means we've been hanging out in our jammies watching an embarrassing amount of TV. But it does give me time to lurk around Pinterest, cooing over the pretty things. Do you Pinterest? This is me <a href="http://pinterest.com/luckyerin/">right here</a>, hit me up in the comments if'n you want to be chums? (on the proviso that I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing with the whole thing and I get distracted easily by shiny objects).<br />
<br />
And lastly here's a quick shot of Betty looking artsy. And you guys? I don't mean to brag, but she sews through leather like it's no big thing. She's all "Sure, whatever lady, give me a real challenge, bust out the titanium". I love her. Even her font KILLS me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBbvxHsU-39eny38OzoqEAFx3IiU-jPqh49jwYmzDDDy9Q2vD0KUuSBhjB4VtqE8igL4Yv8U1M1a9qEbAMf63bjdYhaHgyvxcFqqqNwqMyHE6tlD3SGB_qPgngjHQalvfyPGViihClpHc/s1600/betty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBbvxHsU-39eny38OzoqEAFx3IiU-jPqh49jwYmzDDDy9Q2vD0KUuSBhjB4VtqE8igL4Yv8U1M1a9qEbAMf63bjdYhaHgyvxcFqqqNwqMyHE6tlD3SGB_qPgngjHQalvfyPGViihClpHc/s320/betty.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
* The "out of character" thing? It kind of blows the idea of child-karma out of the water. Given what a horrible child I was, Teddy should be cross between Taz and an angry orangutan. As it is, he's a pretty awesome little chap. Perhaps he's saving it up until he's in his teens?</div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-44303656343010968952011-11-07T21:51:00.001-05:002011-11-07T22:03:43.574-05:0033!You guys! I'm 33 today! 33! (I'm not complaining, so far I bloody LOVE my 30's)<br />
I'm also not sticking around for long, I just wanted to tell you that apparently I don't learn! '<a href="http://luckyandblissful.blogspot.com/2010/11/surprised-yah-i-was.html">Member how last year my sweetie surprised the dickens out me with a party</a>?<br />
Well he did it again.<br />
And I fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. Again.<br />
And it was lovely, there was cake. And sangria. And funtimes. And that was <b>after</b> dinner at The Queen and Beaver (you should go! it's ace!)<br />
There are no pictures (or if there are there may be sailor hats?) but I do have SOMETHING to show you...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioPmL1Y1WzvDgb0WpplOG5nePrSWHczsrF0E96wpeemT0SfiJDEMBClX2v1AURGbLQIzXuXDwbvPfed2a-Q-3EgA__4q4zpumeFjlAciBWpXodYk3YTFJfU3jj6lbl8u1ZQGGq1jx4B08/s1600/the+white.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioPmL1Y1WzvDgb0WpplOG5nePrSWHczsrF0E96wpeemT0SfiJDEMBClX2v1AURGbLQIzXuXDwbvPfed2a-Q-3EgA__4q4zpumeFjlAciBWpXodYk3YTFJfU3jj6lbl8u1ZQGGq1jx4B08/s320/the+white.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Can you see what it is? It's a ring-bound manual for a 1969 White Company sewing machine. With less than 5 hours use on it. Still in it's table. With a heap of feet and accouterments. In TIFFANY BLUE.<br />
Wondering why I might have such a manual? For such a machine?<br />
YOU GUYS! It's because she is mine! And she shall be coming home with me on Wednesday. And her name shall be Betty (like Betty White; another awesome vintage broad, see?) and GOOD LORD but she's smooth. And you guys. I just about pee'd.<br />
She is a gift from my good friend (and my baby's honorary granny), and I am a very very lucky gurl.<br />
Ok. I'm going to go drink birthday chardonnay and snuggle on the couch with my sweetheart.<br />
x!Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-66360822586831830582011-11-03T20:09:00.002-04:002011-11-03T20:41:40.962-04:00Dirt Cheap DIY Boot TreesSo. I have two problems with boots. And I use the term "problem" pretty loosely here folks. In fact lets go with So,<i> I have two kinda-dumb-first-world-problems with boots</i>.<br />
The first problem isn't just me, it's just a thing that knee high boots do. See:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO1xsfDtnIYvzZ2Vvw6dv4fJK2PYzTAShIwOHiRoGpQBaTzYCvf9riZMK10j85Db5K_VPfG0f90kbUotfgTR95lPIxrTgSHPf_GFBB7gGymyPEsflT5Cd3IFtkDPVd_4tVLvCT3_wdu7c/s1600/fallen+boots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO1xsfDtnIYvzZ2Vvw6dv4fJK2PYzTAShIwOHiRoGpQBaTzYCvf9riZMK10j85Db5K_VPfG0f90kbUotfgTR95lPIxrTgSHPf_GFBB7gGymyPEsflT5Cd3IFtkDPVd_4tVLvCT3_wdu7c/s400/fallen+boots.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My boots flop over. Which wrinkles the ankles and makes the tops all flat and puts a crease down the middle. It's a whole big thing. And Not Cool. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The solution is Boot Trees (not trees that grow boots - though you guys, just the idea of trees that grow boots makes me feel kind of fevered).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Boot trees that you jam into your boots to keep them erect and wrinkle-free <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(oh my god. I just wrote "erect" on the internets. So, HI! If you came here via a google search for "erect", you're prolly in the wrong place, perhaps turn your safe-search off?).</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, in an ideal world I'd have a full compliment of beautiful, hand carved, vintage boot trees. Or even just a bunch of <a href="http://www.shoetreemarketplace.com/Cedar_Boot_shaft_shaper_p/9701.htm">these</a>. In this world I don't, and I'm fairly unlikely to acquire 'em any time soon. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But that's OK! 'Cause there are a couple of different solutions. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The first, and my total favourite, is this:</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3mZA8klxp8KY8uWJSNKM-a4nzoyCnLTzLiYjtDeoyHoPwREHCtJayiDqLpNNqoL8bEo0F2_ZKRLC57ahAi3dvgZFtdRE8gix0VEdCKSV4T27E3TZ-FY_KQAncqEdX_ZVWAhJO73I-avw/s1600/chop+chop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3mZA8klxp8KY8uWJSNKM-a4nzoyCnLTzLiYjtDeoyHoPwREHCtJayiDqLpNNqoL8bEo0F2_ZKRLC57ahAi3dvgZFtdRE8gix0VEdCKSV4T27E3TZ-FY_KQAncqEdX_ZVWAhJO73I-avw/s320/chop+chop.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Wondering what that is? It's flexible plastic chopping board of course! (Remember how I use them for EV.ERY.THING?) And all you do is roll it up and jam it down your boots. You could get all fancy and cut a rounded "V" shape out of the bottom. I didn't because most of my boots are flat.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJT2QUgoWkhX24kC83OoXWZ_VEBX7ov0qCN7OMYmXDJM_U1pZ0ygYcdzELYwqgNLwBIRVqayk8tgSK0_ZfSk6tIn_crlpPZGD02qYCuIlU1WhvMQsQ80mCFmpBJ0wn0oNLBmp3oyozlDM/s1600/jammed+in.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJT2QUgoWkhX24kC83OoXWZ_VEBX7ov0qCN7OMYmXDJM_U1pZ0ygYcdzELYwqgNLwBIRVqayk8tgSK0_ZfSk6tIn_crlpPZGD02qYCuIlU1WhvMQsQ80mCFmpBJ0wn0oNLBmp3oyozlDM/s320/jammed+in.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Next there's the old "wine bottle down the boot" trick. Which is OK? I guess? But not ideal, because</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">It kind of puffs out the ankles in an odd shape, but doesn't stop the top of the boot from being flat. Also, having "hidden" booze in my closet makes me feel like my Alcoholic<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-align: left;"> Granny - which, gross & kind of upsetting. Ok moving swiftly on...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Here's a shot of the difference between the choppin' boards and the wine bottles:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQGyLw7du-2AAiffOV9eBH8DxSqlco7bsSjlcT6XyfnJvDiNr37fGe872ySHkdFIoGiAkKt3QAidP7KqOwsQVIi76gZc3BHcRPj8dmm6rA5GXJy4YHamQEKokBzxEk-6i6FhNdG5fLaY/s1600/chopbottle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQGyLw7du-2AAiffOV9eBH8DxSqlco7bsSjlcT6XyfnJvDiNr37fGe872ySHkdFIoGiAkKt3QAidP7KqOwsQVIi76gZc3BHcRPj8dmm6rA5GXJy4YHamQEKokBzxEk-6i6FhNdG5fLaY/s320/chopbottle.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
Note the unpuffy ankles on the choppin' board boot versus the bottle boot.<br />
And lastly (and the cheapest way) is to roll up a magazine and jam it down there. It's not perfect but it'll does in a pinch.<br />
<br />
And as for the second problem I have with boots, um. OK. Don't judge me now... but... I have 5 pairs of brown knee high boots, (OH, and one black pair too). <b>5 </b>(and they're all... um, pretty similar actually).<br />
It's a sickness.<br />
I blame Duo Boots.<br />
See, I am a girl with chunky calves, (not like baby cows, like the bottom parts of my legs, chubby baby cows are adorable).<br />
Which means that knee high boots were pretty much a no-go for me, with the zipper-straining and the weird calf muffin-tops and the plain old "YAH, dude, these are never going to do up".<br />
Anyway, my mum was all "you should look up Duo, they do different calf sizes".<br />
I was all "<b>WHA!? Why wasn't I informed!</b>" and I had my first pair picked out before she'd finished her next sentence.<br />
Now here's were I warn you before I send you over there. They're kind of expensive. Actually, not "kind of", they ARE expensive.<br />
But.<br />
They're your forever boots. My first pair have trotted happily through four Canadian winters, complete with mushy snowy salty grey slop attacking them, and they still look awesome. I take care of them, with regular waterproofing sprays and sticking chopping boards inside them and softly crooning love songs to them. But you do that when you pay a bloody fortune for your boots (or at least I do?).<br />
So, if you have wide (or skinny) calves <a href="http://www.duoboots.com/">you should go check them out here</a>.<br />
And here's the good part. If you can wait till the new year, they have a BRILLIANT sale. They get to be, if not dirt cheap then "OH MY GOD I CAN TOTALLY JUSTIFY THIS" cheap. It's a heady time.<br />
Just to be clear here, Duo isn't sponsoring me (mine is an unrequited love. Le sigh). I just happen to think they rock the free world and I'm not even kidding when I say that their boots are kind of a life changer (well they were for me anyway).<br />
<br />
NOW! I'm off to go and lurk around Duo, pressing my nose against the (browser) window like a Dickensian orphan. Because, 5 is NOT too many pairs. no no no trala la la-I'm-not-listening-la.<br />
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</div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-11536167118446314432011-11-01T09:49:00.000-04:002011-11-01T09:49:11.390-04:00Cowboy Chicken! "He's a chicken who is a cowboy guy"Halloween, maybe my favourite holiday. costumes+candy=funtimes.<br />
Want to see how we rolled, costume wise?<br />
WELLL! First we went to "Big Boy School" (the PFLC playgroup at our local school) Like this:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZkjef_zurZ776ai00HeEoNngzgPEToemdMojCqhCIxbn9Pbf9sFB3OSY5GkDHVZoRSU8ET7B_DJsn1jRQOgaUAzW7H21R9hOzYUcn3a8OeRrrRXEycJLwGODsQ73CFz8Lh8S81QAn85I/s1600/OI+biggles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZkjef_zurZ776ai00HeEoNngzgPEToemdMojCqhCIxbn9Pbf9sFB3OSY5GkDHVZoRSU8ET7B_DJsn1jRQOgaUAzW7H21R9hOzYUcn3a8OeRrrRXEycJLwGODsQ73CFz8Lh8S81QAn85I/s400/OI+biggles.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvDdjWnF-tlSd5Z0PQwyh6-VE5SoFBcvrSoK3wmlzSWmJp3zRae4Vnz8SvgZd-vKoIhmYzt2v1aX9tow7vm2UBa7UYgB6I__mz6w296eGNcJvf3jH1f3L4n2_ovQWADs-Df8CgUNjkww/s1600/october+31st.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvDdjWnF-tlSd5Z0PQwyh6-VE5SoFBcvrSoK3wmlzSWmJp3zRae4Vnz8SvgZd-vKoIhmYzt2v1aX9tow7vm2UBa7UYgB6I__mz6w296eGNcJvf3jH1f3L4n2_ovQWADs-Df8CgUNjkww/s320/october+31st.jpg" width="224" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He's Biggles Bear, Flying Ace. And here's a tiny admission. There was no planning for that "costume" at all. The flight jacket and hat are just what he wears. And I grabbed a white "scarf" from my fabric stash and fringed the ends. But you guys. I love it. Love love. See, both my Grandpas (his great grandpas) were pilots. And my dad IS a pilot. (My mum has her P.P.L. and I have about 17 hours of a Private Pilots Licence too; we're an aeronautical family)</div>So yep, my kid is Biggles. I might have put on my outfit with Amelia Earheart in mind. Maybe. but I'm admitting nothing. (and it's a brutally unflattering shot, gah).<br />
So that was the morning, and a thrown together outfit so Teddy wouldn't BOIL in the overheated school.<br />
This is the real deal:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi16IeuDdlSTUZvjBqDFdFVUtDjLQiV2kVNhFQTZSTM6aCAkFX8xXoW4FJ-XuVRKQk8vuSWMrQrhvTJXb4DHFnDvF1527NBr_IgXTAr7XnmMOcoFGOZi8i8gohOjJq8HSTmSEhXyUp1jF0/s1600/chick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi16IeuDdlSTUZvjBqDFdFVUtDjLQiV2kVNhFQTZSTM6aCAkFX8xXoW4FJ-XuVRKQk8vuSWMrQrhvTJXb4DHFnDvF1527NBr_IgXTAr7XnmMOcoFGOZi8i8gohOjJq8HSTmSEhXyUp1jF0/s400/chick.jpg" width="285" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKDkX2Iww3zTHDZ2Rdr44mcHOtI_xMpPr4zkoveEIMDHsO_0LUh-9-Vnk5APmpQ5bC5NROLolFh9bHslSfrvopi5jJJx6EW0f3yab-KN5lN0lIuXC76j6wYCwyRWVMxEf2rD0Rdmlj_Y/s1600/cowboys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKDkX2Iww3zTHDZ2Rdr44mcHOtI_xMpPr4zkoveEIMDHsO_0LUh-9-Vnk5APmpQ5bC5NROLolFh9bHslSfrvopi5jJJx6EW0f3yab-KN5lN0lIuXC76j6wYCwyRWVMxEf2rD0Rdmlj_Y/s320/cowboys.jpg" width="232" /></a></div><br />
He is a "COWBOY CHICKEN! BWOCKKK!"<br />
Which... OK?<br />
I have no idea how he came up with it but he asked to be a "chicken who is a cowboy guy". <br />
For the last couple of weeks the whole "what to be" conversation has been a source of superfuntimes, and there was some talk of a Space Robot, a zookeeper, or a "RacingCarDriverVRooom". But on Wednesday he declared for Cowboy Chicken and stuck with it when asked three times.<br />
So off we went to the Dolla' Stor'. We scored the hat, the orange "feet", some craft foam and (my favourite part) a handful off-brand swiffer-type dusters.<br />
I pulled those suckers apart and tacked them on to the sleeve of a white hoodie. And voila, softie chicken wings. I could have used a feather boa but I'm monstrous allergic.<br />
I chopped the toes off the orange sockies and tacked on felt chicken feet.<br />
The vest/waistcoat we had.<br />
The chicken mask I made because the chicken masks at the costume shop across the road were kind of... sinister looking? and too big. I did manage to hot-glue a chicken nosehole to my hand. Not cool you guys. Not cool.<br />
Anyway, it came together, it looked like this and it was a hit when we went trick or treating last night. So I'm calling it a win.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-24053801407831961682011-10-26T14:21:00.001-04:002011-10-26T19:41:13.156-04:00Oh No. Drums.Wondering what my sweetheart and my kid were doing while I lurched around the city pretending to be undead? Well. My sweetheart was having an attack of the crazypants.<br />
He took Teddy to Long & McQuade, a music and musical goodies shop here in the city. And he let him do THIS:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFM1cLsC5NAr7r3p5JTLHUVCrH-eoY1EpXXjrZTi7hYh57UONds2I0_SobPmPyC9XBCOrlaMwgZivpe9EeM9fQjvCtOQqoW-uBPEIy1oAT3rqAGH4DFOlvZ6ANrbl_m1F-eki4l2v5jUE/s1600/Teddy+drums.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFM1cLsC5NAr7r3p5JTLHUVCrH-eoY1EpXXjrZTi7hYh57UONds2I0_SobPmPyC9XBCOrlaMwgZivpe9EeM9fQjvCtOQqoW-uBPEIy1oAT3rqAGH4DFOlvZ6ANrbl_m1F-eki4l2v5jUE/s320/Teddy+drums.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Uh huh. That's a drum kit. And that's my kid giving it some; to the cooing admiration of a handful of his uncles. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Drums you guys.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The thing is, my sweetie is (at 39) learning to play the guitar. Which - maybe the hottest thing ever? He's spent six months working his fingers to nubbins while me and the dog sit around gazing adoringly at him like super-hairy groupies (what? I sometimes forget to shave my legs.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Teddy is similarly impressed. I'm really proud of my sweetie for setting that kind of example to him. You know, the "<b>it's never too late, you just have to work hard and practice and you can do anything</b>" example. Well that and the all-important "guitars = adoring girls/boys/dogs" lesson.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But Drums? DRUMS? really? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Le sigh. Anybody want to open a book on how soon I cave on this one? </div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-89018837888236648282011-10-24T14:25:00.001-04:002011-10-24T14:25:53.110-04:00grrr arrgh - zombie attackYou guys! it was Toronto's Zombie walk this weekend! And this was my 4th year of lurching and groaning along with the massed undead. As always it was a butt-load of fun. Kind of sticky, gross, fake-skin, candy-blood, hair-catastrophe fun; but fun all the same. Want to see my zombie outfit? It's pretty gory...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-UUVZuWHAEvARHBq2ruyFu7foTnEO1DqZPklyV-bWdUYGzlmwP0iUzihxbImA9OdUKPmC8s6eUm3NOQupym44HXpU3XPJIfgygDHzzPqq8rSD2JtOVhBcZr1-P5vgJwn7NK8aWXTE8e4/s1600/spa+back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-UUVZuWHAEvARHBq2ruyFu7foTnEO1DqZPklyV-bWdUYGzlmwP0iUzihxbImA9OdUKPmC8s6eUm3NOQupym44HXpU3XPJIfgygDHzzPqq8rSD2JtOVhBcZr1-P5vgJwn7NK8aWXTE8e4/s320/spa+back.jpg" width="242" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqvNcqlCwxhFzzYy2xnja5tecqnusQhiyPu4Y25ZnAbtPzhPkYf5eO6UlyjWwDEA6ShlujT9NEXmZzESfN4PR9R3w2bnuq3uEoGZv2eVexFlJSVnyB2S3YrAua8_0FS9RWrPBbO1SVzqY/s1600/spa+zombie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqvNcqlCwxhFzzYy2xnja5tecqnusQhiyPu4Y25ZnAbtPzhPkYf5eO6UlyjWwDEA6ShlujT9NEXmZzESfN4PR9R3w2bnuq3uEoGZv2eVexFlJSVnyB2S3YrAua8_0FS9RWrPBbO1SVzqY/s320/spa+zombie.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKptR82Q4DI5bBn4FFP8FvBHP-NheMfa5w3F3INgpjaXNV2sXrZVQWpCLE8cpUTHlAjk7-MT5dC3EZpQ1moGWm9Db6MiRQ89lRX2m1mVWSziDb7xFJ9MlxnQuQFxk84DSt79uTC4Nju0/s1600/streetcar+erin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKptR82Q4DI5bBn4FFP8FvBHP-NheMfa5w3F3INgpjaXNV2sXrZVQWpCLE8cpUTHlAjk7-MT5dC3EZpQ1moGWm9Db6MiRQ89lRX2m1mVWSziDb7xFJ9MlxnQuQFxk84DSt79uTC4Nju0/s320/streetcar+erin.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">See? I'm a spa day zombie? From the Bates Hotel and Spa see? (because I like to mix it up, genre-wise).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It turns out that making a dressing gown out of two dollar store sheets is a Thing I Can Do. (Which is nice to know).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I used one of my super-precious pieces of Printable Iron On transfer paper to make the logo's (back and front) And the cucumber patches. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The face mask is not actually real, which in retrospect seems a missed importunity, as I could use both soothing AND firming, also possibly pore minimizing? But no. It was just green face paint. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was COLD on saturday, so I have a bunch of layers on under my dressing gown.The first layer of gore on the 'gown is paint, the later, still-wet stuff is candy blood; but you guys, candy blood is pretty deeply umpleasant when you throw it all over yourself. It was like a symphony of cold-sticky-grossness all up in my hair and nack. Not cool.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If I was doing this again I would plump for the REAL fake blood instead of the candy sort, and I would have remembered to paint my dressing gown belt, and I would maybe make the eyeholes on my 'cumbers smaller, (But with a 5 k lurch and that many people, visability was an issue). But all in all, 4 dolla well spent I think.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I went with these two, a zombie 60's housewife and a zom-BEE (geddit?!)</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxGqqyoycTSWByk4CQouCuCfxkPdyGaHXB78TXRwk6JoP-2yKKagS771jVcQTv7e4JpccgKo2yDpIgOXq4SnNkhNgbE8WtNQ195cqkLO_iAYRkOkoA5YbAU352sBiy52CKrHpurStgqNQ/s1600/the+gurls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxGqqyoycTSWByk4CQouCuCfxkPdyGaHXB78TXRwk6JoP-2yKKagS771jVcQTv7e4JpccgKo2yDpIgOXq4SnNkhNgbE8WtNQ195cqkLO_iAYRkOkoA5YbAU352sBiy52CKrHpurStgqNQ/s320/the+gurls.jpg" width="228" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And ran into a few other chums along the way, </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5bT5OIu6-ncQOdM_FIie6gn05p9ZCUfntBH-J2L7brNg7g45zZHW55rXZ-2egsfSdYXN-8TAZ1xID-dbq0hfrKB_oXaIXb-W4-iG3SKcKJ7nGofE5YayulyFADuGBpBN9yVRhQ0elHZk/s1600/the+gang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5bT5OIu6-ncQOdM_FIie6gn05p9ZCUfntBH-J2L7brNg7g45zZHW55rXZ-2egsfSdYXN-8TAZ1xID-dbq0hfrKB_oXaIXb-W4-iG3SKcKJ7nGofE5YayulyFADuGBpBN9yVRhQ0elHZk/s320/the+gang.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-51641127189730691132011-10-19T23:03:00.000-04:002011-10-19T23:03:05.464-04:00Skirting the issue... A Refashion, 3 Ways.<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, I accidentally did it again, disappeared from the face of the internets (sort of) for a month. But let's not talk about THAT! Oh no! Let's talk about refashions instead. Yah LETS!</div></div>Does anybody else miss Wardrobe Refashion like I do? I'm all sad and sigh-y about it over here. Got any go-to sites for inspiration? Do tell! (No really, please do tell, I need some inspiration in the worst way).<br />
<br />
So, my most recentest piece of sewing of any description has been this skirt...<br />
Here's the before*:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjekTmECPfkOUvGFIoKqHr-a_cS6Y_lrA8FWkYuqm2M7RnZ22eAoWM-xQtL8egObHmo7McLFCEf3H4Lz4Q5zos4UervIxoprI9-MHudoycIjdFg8Q93LTaqy3bduRbsOaRz6CV899rqGpw/s1600/skirt+refashion+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjekTmECPfkOUvGFIoKqHr-a_cS6Y_lrA8FWkYuqm2M7RnZ22eAoWM-xQtL8egObHmo7McLFCEf3H4Lz4Q5zos4UervIxoprI9-MHudoycIjdFg8Q93LTaqy3bduRbsOaRz6CV899rqGpw/s320/skirt+refashion+1.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's a bit big see? I bought it a while ago, when I was a bit bigger too, but it was always pretty big on me. And I prolly should have tossed it a couple of wardrobe clear-outs back. But it's cord, and paisley and soft and dude, I am about 3 pairs of shoes and a couple of meters of tweed away from an episode of Hoarders. So it's been sat in the to-be-fixed box for ages.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This morning I got onto that. In the super-easiest way ever. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I tried out three different styles before I settled on what I'd do with it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Exhibit 1</b>. The mock-wrap. I just folded the extra skirt over to one side see? If I was going for this option I would add a button and run a topstitch down the flappy egde.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkoETC9R-y-WkHJfg-7fjBU8E8aSYUL1SJG2TfgxM0mIcU0r1SfCfccjf3a_ZQj__KUrk6kXvGyqICi0ohYwFZEjKyt9MTnq59xbOw0JoxeD-jbN_5J4mhZrsiI00FveFSgCy8n2Gp_U/s1600/style2button.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkoETC9R-y-WkHJfg-7fjBU8E8aSYUL1SJG2TfgxM0mIcU0r1SfCfccjf3a_ZQj__KUrk6kXvGyqICi0ohYwFZEjKyt9MTnq59xbOw0JoxeD-jbN_5J4mhZrsiI00FveFSgCy8n2Gp_U/s320/style2button.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Exhibit 2</b>. The Sailor Gurl, two little pleats, a mess o' buttons = cute nautical funtimes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotOuCjJz9Yv0PiuPmpD8Riye5mBHluNXWME6H43sLi0ks-NHN9Bwms8eqGFbW97ldWUVR-_z3w6GqJt7mawHs0K6EKOfdX82ceyBfW72nbDDI-JAhB08glxnXFJ6nNGweGAO-tVycSOw/s1600/style3buttons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotOuCjJz9Yv0PiuPmpD8Riye5mBHluNXWME6H43sLi0ks-NHN9Bwms8eqGFbW97ldWUVR-_z3w6GqJt7mawHs0K6EKOfdX82ceyBfW72nbDDI-JAhB08glxnXFJ6nNGweGAO-tVycSOw/s320/style3buttons.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>And Exhibit 3</b>. The 9 to 5. (because it has that <i>Lily Tomlin in 9 to 5</i> thing going on. I just dragged the excess to meet in the middle, see?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhptYCWLvAIWxMM5_DmfOc_BCkJy36GS23x8-jaJVrCknYLcSa_oyWwZ0lSz6j6I66rYCrruHDpGNvlDM84_QHb5D-jyBTz2-4UfK4lbAe1OjuI7kLw6OBr1XXB3un8AFJ8eN6j7YppuW8/s1600/style1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhptYCWLvAIWxMM5_DmfOc_BCkJy36GS23x8-jaJVrCknYLcSa_oyWwZ0lSz6j6I66rYCrruHDpGNvlDM84_QHb5D-jyBTz2-4UfK4lbAe1OjuI7kLw6OBr1XXB3un8AFJ8eN6j7YppuW8/s320/style1.jpg" width="262" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is the one I went with, SO, once I'd pinned it to size I just topstitched the pleats down like this: </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZGxJwstbB0AlK4gdbZmK4v63R0GXDZv70kQI5YNjih3xnjD5yc1r7Wp8KlvB_Y1UDcqSnMJyqujjKzqYziycf3k24khE6KwS-0lfhEkddzRgBjtZUcNCw7I-X5-5EUL5tccBcKxa2Rk/s1600/sew+here.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZGxJwstbB0AlK4gdbZmK4v63R0GXDZv70kQI5YNjih3xnjD5yc1r7Wp8KlvB_Y1UDcqSnMJyqujjKzqYziycf3k24khE6KwS-0lfhEkddzRgBjtZUcNCw7I-X5-5EUL5tccBcKxa2Rk/s320/sew+here.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">(and I would have done the same thing with any of those other versions, ALSO! There's no chopping or hacking so if I change my mind and want to go back to one of the others I totally can just seam rip and re-do)</div><div style="text-align: left;">And that's it. A skirt that fits me. </div><div style="text-align: left;">And here's how I wore it:<span id="goog_1726183007"></span><span id="goog_1726183008"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGH83ncLzHTBQhYrOytaaRRGeT0ZK-S5lwQ1q6KzKiDUFTuyLWm4QY2KE4tfLssInua0bATmVRnyOI3gGqIz2zrSpoHbvGUS3Ngvm-cHSfSL4dTaRSbvZZp1yN2vKVVog749DeJoPLw8/s1600/DSCN9911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGH83ncLzHTBQhYrOytaaRRGeT0ZK-S5lwQ1q6KzKiDUFTuyLWm4QY2KE4tfLssInua0bATmVRnyOI3gGqIz2zrSpoHbvGUS3Ngvm-cHSfSL4dTaRSbvZZp1yN2vKVVog749DeJoPLw8/s320/DSCN9911.jpg" width="160" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">That is with SUPER BRIGHT fuchsia tights and my favourite shoes and crazy-lady hair. (No really, there's a pencil crayon jammed up in there. Kelly Green, actually. It's my kids "bestest colour ever".)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">*huh. Turns out that yeps, I did just post a picture of me in my chopped-up-Old-Navy-boy's-tee running shirt on the internetses. huh.</div></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-79561796615810971482011-08-31T00:23:00.002-04:002011-08-31T09:52:08.519-04:00Zinged - Zung?I am a master at the 2am zinger. You know the kind? The perfect comeback, the world-quaking verbal drubbing, the ZING... That only occurs to me 12 or so hours after the situation I would have used it in.<br />
<div>It's brutal. </div><div><br />
</div><div>But I've been thinking, perhaps that's not SUCH a terrible thing?<br />
<br />
I stumbled onto <a href="http://flavorwire.com/188138/the-30-harshest-author-on-author-insults-in-history">this post</a> (via <a href="http://angrychicken.typepad.com/">Angry Chicken</a>, man I love her) and you know who can deliver some brutal, <b>brutal</b> smack talk? Authors. That's who.<br />
Apparently canny wordsmiths are MEAN when you get 'em riled.<br />
This list of the notable authors verbally decimating each other is entertaining reading... at first...<br />
But then, well then it's sort of... icky.<br />
Elizabeth Bishop slamming J.D. Salinger (#8) makes me wince,<br />
<blockquote> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><strong>8. Elizabeth Bishop on J.D. Salinger </strong></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">“I HATED [Catcher in the Rye]. It took me days to go through it, gingerly, a page at a time, and blushing with embarrassment for him every ridiculous sentence of the way. How can they let him do it?”</span> </blockquote>Elizabeth! That's the kind of thing that could cause a person to retreat into crazypants seclusion (sorry J.D., but yuh-huh).<br />
I think what bothers me is that it seems cheap somehow to have the ability to write extraordinarily but to use your skill to hurt people's feelings. Like having the ability to fly but using it exclusively to fly around doing retaliatory poops on pigeons. (No wait, that actually sounds kind of righteous).<br />
<br />
The rare occasion that I manage to spit out <b>just the right mean</b> at <b>just the right time</b>; I feel TERRIBLE about it afterwards. Even if it was deserved.<br />
Because that's not who I want to be.<br />
I'm not saying I want to hold hands with the world and sing Kumbaya and roast marshmallows but - wait, actually, WHY AREN'T I saying that? That sounds like funtimes. And I love roasted marshmallows.<br />
I guess I don't really have a point here, this is just a long-winded way of saying that I think maybe my mum was right (she usually is) when she told us as kids,<br />
<b>"If you don't have anything nice to say then you should shut the f*ck up" </b><br />
(For reals, she has a mouth on her to make a sailor blush, and it's incongruous 'cause she <i>looks</i> like such a lady).<br />
BUT I think I would still like the ability to think up the instant-zing, because then I could feel all smug that I wasn't using it. Instead of just all hurt-feelingy.<br />
How do you guys feel about this? Do you zap and regret? Or ZING and high-five? Or keep quiet then lay awake for hours staring at the shadow on your ceiling that looks like chubby-Elvis face until you come up with the perfect comeback?<br />
And do you think it's different on the internetses? Where anonymity and time to plan a response seems to give people the idea that "DUDE. YOUR COUCH SO UGLY" is appropriate (hello <a href="http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/">Apartment Therapy </a>commentors!).<br />
I'm genuinely curious here. Thoughts? Feelings? Cuppa tea and a scone?<br />
<br />
Oh hey! I just thought of something I wanted to add (I guess this whole thing is really jammed into my head but good)...<br />
I read and follow quite a few blogs, some by folks who's politics, religious beliefs and lifestyles are different from mine. I can read a glowing "why I love Mitt Romney" post and completely disagree with it but still wish goodthings and funtimes for it's writer. BUT when one of the bloggers I used to read (I'm not naming names here), decided to write a scathing report, apropos of nothing about just why and how another blogger's project was lousy. Well, click. Unfollowed.<br />
Ok, rant over. I think I'm done here.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-64345110534670544972011-08-28T15:48:00.011-04:002011-08-29T09:03:55.503-04:00...Because they ARRH! A Mini Boden Knock-Off.<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.polyvore.com/stripy_applique_shirt/thing.outbound?.embedder=1564594&.mid=embed-thing&id=38582313"><img alt="Stripy Applique T-shirt" border="0" force="1" height="400" src="http://embed.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/x/tid/38582313.jpg" title="Stripy Applique T-shirt" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I do love a bit of Boden. Sure it's the uniform of the floppy-haired, home-counties male, but I have a soft spot for that. (I went to a British private school, those boys were my first crushes).<br />
And I LOVE LOVE LOVE their kid's clothes. They're just plain awesome, fun and actually kid-appealing.<br />
The downside is that they're bloomin' spensive. Maybe not so muchly if you can order them from the <a href="http://bodenusa.com/">Boden USA</a> site (and get free shipping, which they have RIGHT NOW(!) I'll wait here if you want to go look).<br />
But getting stuff delivered to Canada means ordering from the UK site. And between exchange rates and shipping it just gets crazy. The above shirt would be roughly $50 CDN which, hah. No.<br />
<br />
So I totally made a knock off.<br />
Want to see it?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXf9dr0gxshe3gZ9iox-PExCQ2v8mBATQAn8z-dGQJoKYHyomRMPPRggi0cs1PRYUTU0kD5vFo2sWJmIbVMRdafZgyaW-WIB69k6anmvas-7FOsNgXjF75-PJgQ6Guf5ImfDhXLJrL_Wc/s1600/dog+shirt+after1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="505" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXf9dr0gxshe3gZ9iox-PExCQ2v8mBATQAn8z-dGQJoKYHyomRMPPRggi0cs1PRYUTU0kD5vFo2sWJmIbVMRdafZgyaW-WIB69k6anmvas-7FOsNgXjF75-PJgQ6Guf5ImfDhXLJrL_Wc/s640/dog+shirt+after1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Ta-da!<br />
My sweetie is not a big fan of skulls and crossbones (he's more ninja than pirate). So I went with a trail o'bones that goes around the back too.<br />
I used<br />
<blockquote>A shirt from H&M, - a two pack, with a solid navy one for $12.99... I think SO!<br />
A pack of Wilton Easy Image T-shirt Transfers for dark fabrics (from Michael's).<br />
And some Photoshop meddling.</blockquote>And I like it a LOT. I'm super happy with the Pirate Captain Dog's face; I went for a hand-drawn-in-Sharpie kind of look and think it was pretty successful. I also think he looks more friendly than the real version. Though I wish I had made him a bit bigger.<br />
The transfers were a bit erratic, I'm not sure if that was a <b>me thing</b> or a <b>them thing</b>. I used them to fancy up a white tee earlier this week, and they worked brilliantly.<br />
This time I had a bit of scorching. It's not noticeable to anybody but me, but it's there. I don't know if it's because of the dark shirt. Or because I had the iron set too high or because I didn't wash the shirt beforehand (it totally says you should but I am RIDICULOUSLY impatient).<br />
I still have 3 sheets of transfer paper left, and plans for more shirts, (next time I'll pre-wash and report back!).<br />
<br />
ANYWAY. The transfers were roughly $15 for 5. The tee worked out at $6.<br />
$9 V's $50. I'm calling it a win.<br />
<br />
<div>I should add that I DO I have some guilt about copyright infringement. But I think the 30% difference rule works here. You know, if your design is different by about 30%, then you can think of it as "Inspired by" rather than plagiarized. And I didn't just copy and paste. But yah. Guilt.<br />
It's funny though, this knock-off /"inspired by" thing. I feel OK about this design and OK about posting it to the intenetses because Boden is a larger, successful company. I wouldn't even think about ripping off an Etsy Seller or an independent designer in the same way. Because you know, ICKY. Weird huh?<br />
How do you guys feel about these issues?<br />
<br />
This is also over here -<br />
<a href="http://creatingreallyawesomefreethings.com/"><img width="150" alt="Making Monday Marvelous Linky Party" height="125" src="http://i896.photobucket.com/albums/ac167/serendipity629/gray_zigzag-2.png" width="150" /></a><br />
and here - <a href="http://www.craftskeepmesane.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"> <img alt="Keeping It Simple" border="0" src="http://i936.photobucket.com/albums/ad206/kaysinerwt/th_DSCF63832.jpg" /></a></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-81635489546348295802011-08-26T00:10:00.003-04:002011-08-26T08:20:41.798-04:00Wild and PreciousHey! You know when sometimes the world (and more specifically these here internets) gives you <b>just the thing you need</b> at <b>just the time when you need it</b>?<br />
I love when that happens.<br />
Like this see:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYxChpEpOwvHOMWRIH6U8Qb49a38UUEud5xyE_2s02gr-OEeRlK-_gDoKYLi4HSd8nbnpnRXCU2dlGoZPGepSx9-STZmfD-uq9Uaf5XO9tLZg6B2A9PwqWAhJQGwUpxRrhZ7KurpEXyvY/s1600/printable.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYxChpEpOwvHOMWRIH6U8Qb49a38UUEud5xyE_2s02gr-OEeRlK-_gDoKYLi4HSd8nbnpnRXCU2dlGoZPGepSx9-STZmfD-uq9Uaf5XO9tLZg6B2A9PwqWAhJQGwUpxRrhZ7KurpEXyvY/s640/printable.jpg" width="494" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's a Mary Oliver quote, and I got to it via <a href="http://jakeandtobi.blogspot.com/2011/02/your-one-wild-and-precious-life.html">these kids here</a>. I was struck by it hard enough to go out and procure me some poetry (which actually is one of my favourite things ever, so it wasn't exactly a hardship). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had been thinking about making some wall art EXACTLY like Tobi's since I saw it. But I have stencil fear. Or at least, very little stencil kung-fu. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So I CHEATED. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I whipped up this printable, I used a stencil font and meddled with it in photoshop to give it a "canvas" background. And t'morra morning I'm going to trot to the printer down the road and have it printed up HUGE - well 16"x20" - on paper and stick it in a frame and put it over my desk and feel pretty awesomely happy about it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If you want your very own to print out then you can totally do that! I've saved it as a TIFF file (don't fear the Tiff! He's just big, he won't hurt you, he needs love too) <a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/63160965/Printable">over here on Scribd</a>. It might take a bit of time to download but it will print in WAY better quality than just clicking on this image above and doing a "save as". Oh, and it's 8.5"x11" so you can use your own printer (hit me up if you want the bigger size posted too).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There's something about this time of year that just makes this line ring through my head like a bell, and it might make an ok giftie for someone about to go away to big kid school (um, that's college/university for anybody who isn't used to speaking 3 year old).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And actually, if you DO want to tell me what it is you plan to do with your one wild and precious life, well I would love to hear.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And hey, here's a high five so high and five-y it makes your palm tingle. I think you're pretty awesome.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">x</div><br />
Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-50971877658327301202011-08-23T17:18:00.001-04:002011-08-26T10:02:00.716-04:00faux rizzle - a fake flower upgrade<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Firstly of all I think I better do a little pre-emptive defense here, I know fake flowers are kind of a contentious issue. And you're either a do or don't. My mum is a decided don't (I put it down to living in France, where everybody always seems to have real flowers everywhere).</div>I am a do. And here's why.<br />
<b>1. Fresh cut flowers are expensive.</b> Even grocery store bouquets. And they're dead-dead really quickly. So you'd think house plants would be the answer, But...<br />
<b>2. I kill plants. </b>I don't intend to exactly. It's not like I keep them in the dark and whisper terrible things to them (ok so, yah I do, but still). But they die and then I have guilt. It's a whole big thing.<br />
<br />
So that's my defense of fake flowers. Now on to how to make dirt cheap fake flowers look more fancified. First things first; rebranding! They're not "fake" flowers they're "imitation" or "silk"or oou! even better, they're "Faux". French = more classierer see!?<br />
Now, the upgrade I'm doing here is on a couple of stems of Dollarstore phalaenopsis orchids. And here's the before and after:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18StCygObCkb7KmDBF0PjOVywkYk0QJKeDaVdvmtgn9zaPy805CwNGNtLTKi-0Djshqkvjp4dL8hNcX2q6gug8ONU1SKPUVtgJ_wnO4su_RlabNVjAB0ltYmy8PyrJhDSi2I87KL9NhU/s1600/before+and+after.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18StCygObCkb7KmDBF0PjOVywkYk0QJKeDaVdvmtgn9zaPy805CwNGNtLTKi-0Djshqkvjp4dL8hNcX2q6gug8ONU1SKPUVtgJ_wnO4su_RlabNVjAB0ltYmy8PyrJhDSi2I87KL9NhU/s400/before+and+after.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The before <i>looks</i> like a stem of dollar store fake flowers, and not just because it has a taggie on it that says dollarama. The after is way more swankypants Restoration-Pottery-Hard-Barn-Ware like. (At least I think).<br />
<br />
Want to try it?<br />
You'll need:<br />
A couple of stems of phalaenopsis orchids (but the fancifying techniques actually work for lots of other fake flowers too)<br />
Some paint and a paint brush<br />
A sharp thing and a flamey thing (scissors and a lighter are good)<br />
Some plasticine/modelling clay<br />
A receptacle.<br />
Some rocks (or bark chips for authenticity)<br />
(I happened to have everything but the flowers to hand, so my total cost was one stinkin' dolla. Which = yay!)<br />
<br />
So the first step is to cut some bits off your stem. Some length from the bottom and a few of the bottom flowers too. My leaves just slid right off, but you can snip them off if you need to; save them for later.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCEKUMlZ1Pd5_xDImYrH1PFPw-HN8rMuACX1APnN6QYO-V4FmZV5Col7e7Hz91Y8qBmtxURevvs7GRXtMGFGapzIn6DInOOP24YBVR05V6KMXUJIWmU9Zu5icdSiMIY2BF_rlEBxWkOzo/s1600/snip+and+whip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCEKUMlZ1Pd5_xDImYrH1PFPw-HN8rMuACX1APnN6QYO-V4FmZV5Col7e7Hz91Y8qBmtxURevvs7GRXtMGFGapzIn6DInOOP24YBVR05V6KMXUJIWmU9Zu5icdSiMIY2BF_rlEBxWkOzo/s320/snip+and+whip.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguLy98wySpSR5u6E3wS4jQeFGHBBgNNX15fwrT92DHAt3_a8h3R4FtxJY3_TVFbG37uhuBdqVIDLhAZXTJyK9mvYSpsmsN1C1FcTFS7j5NGNhuFjjT_GkWBc9fx20lXhob25Borm4qhJU/s1600/snip+flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguLy98wySpSR5u6E3wS4jQeFGHBBgNNX15fwrT92DHAt3_a8h3R4FtxJY3_TVFbG37uhuBdqVIDLhAZXTJyK9mvYSpsmsN1C1FcTFS7j5NGNhuFjjT_GkWBc9fx20lXhob25Borm4qhJU/s320/snip+flowers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Then take your lighter and hold the flame close (but not ON) any weird plastic taggy bits that are sticky out. I reckon it's prolly best to do this OUTSIDE and don't breath in any fumes. If things look a little bumpy that's OK, organic looking bumps are a plus here.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2aTMgjawPHPR5YrJUnQbr9alXrmYD4VKEQLjUM0GiY-PFRMjQru9aPsg2Ec896WqbTLNXWsK8DgycohimbT06F_cp_J9T1ctP4uioYI38hU5Y9hlhyphenhyphenjyfxa2IoaMUOBMFRjvaduMjThU/s1600/snip+and+sear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2aTMgjawPHPR5YrJUnQbr9alXrmYD4VKEQLjUM0GiY-PFRMjQru9aPsg2Ec896WqbTLNXWsK8DgycohimbT06F_cp_J9T1ctP4uioYI38hU5Y9hlhyphenhyphenjyfxa2IoaMUOBMFRjvaduMjThU/s320/snip+and+sear.jpg" width="234" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Next step is to bend the stem into the right sort of shape, I had a look at some phalaenopsis online and bent carefully, a bit at a time, til it looked about right-ish. </div>Next it's time to paint, I just used dollar store acrylic, I slopped it on, then blotted it off a bit for a mottled effect. Then I used an almost-dry brush to fade the brown into the brighter green of the plastic near the flower heads.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBWUOzhQwdJrVet3OHaQQ2g9Tia6XRQzjQGCq7UjHCA-65GHz9Dibsc2BTqqKZWrjo1kMPn50vuw1AXAjhelP3uwNPXh60bjk0ifVDDHsJOIxtduRfUsZZCUYrPTKxsSFeM4I-E0P10ls/s1600/paint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBWUOzhQwdJrVet3OHaQQ2g9Tia6XRQzjQGCq7UjHCA-65GHz9Dibsc2BTqqKZWrjo1kMPn50vuw1AXAjhelP3uwNPXh60bjk0ifVDDHsJOIxtduRfUsZZCUYrPTKxsSFeM4I-E0P10ls/s320/paint.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiko1_lC32W5KWZXuVRykI3ByIlKidcK5nLmAgXa2Ax8Q9NJCkuCbG-fYi_nlPjPLrIb1P7vNTVUQ3K4EAdLYznwkdCIcT1eqFZvqtBdbaL3O51fxkVp3JhhHuXUGin9S6Fa5V4wAEMRyM/s1600/blot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiko1_lC32W5KWZXuVRykI3ByIlKidcK5nLmAgXa2Ax8Q9NJCkuCbG-fYi_nlPjPLrIb1P7vNTVUQ3K4EAdLYznwkdCIcT1eqFZvqtBdbaL3O51fxkVp3JhhHuXUGin9S6Fa5V4wAEMRyM/s1600/blot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiko1_lC32W5KWZXuVRykI3ByIlKidcK5nLmAgXa2Ax8Q9NJCkuCbG-fYi_nlPjPLrIb1P7vNTVUQ3K4EAdLYznwkdCIcT1eqFZvqtBdbaL3O51fxkVp3JhhHuXUGin9S6Fa5V4wAEMRyM/s320/blot.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2SvSMxkAnQG1VGrj_VTY9Vh4XUsiNeEjk5uM81go8nZ_qMNp_yTlE-y0ms-P638rricu_K1NPxyvhfBjrKFFDL_c4UpUZOU5nEM1Q3MC8fWQA8lE8wH4D6eLo06SbxpCNyZaa-ULd_fw/s1600/fade+out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2SvSMxkAnQG1VGrj_VTY9Vh4XUsiNeEjk5uM81go8nZ_qMNp_yTlE-y0ms-P638rricu_K1NPxyvhfBjrKFFDL_c4UpUZOU5nEM1Q3MC8fWQA8lE8wH4D6eLo06SbxpCNyZaa-ULd_fw/s320/fade+out.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Careful not to get paint on the flowers and give them a bit of time to dry, in fact while they're drying you can do the leaves. Flatten them out, snip any loose threads away and melt up the edges some to stop fraying.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgADVybyu_JpY9lzojUthgVETL21YAlvGi2zKbgppDQ_eZqg4TVMZiOaw6coZ9an7NahVyW82-tI6in2mNUvPjfOpyFCnWPFe1a8rCvARRB3PQJUuwvN-Sz3X5m-cn5BbP-YmypNmr52uU/s1600/flatten+and+tidy+leaves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgADVybyu_JpY9lzojUthgVETL21YAlvGi2zKbgppDQ_eZqg4TVMZiOaw6coZ9an7NahVyW82-tI6in2mNUvPjfOpyFCnWPFe1a8rCvARRB3PQJUuwvN-Sz3X5m-cn5BbP-YmypNmr52uU/s320/flatten+and+tidy+leaves.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Almost done! Grab a hefty lump o' Plasticine/modeling clay jam it into your receptacle then poke your flower stem into it (you can add more than one stem if you like, maybe at different heights?). Add the leaves and poke them down firmly too. Like this:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTaVcREfU4YgvEJ5kYAp6ul1pEyfkWidl7jT0NMafNuy4vrgNB_M7amJE8NpW-3R_JJbGcAeVdXiamujQJ5z_KRCyWsNxtqu7cBTmFXeRj0oJH1YHYc_-yuDoQIUNRj6JTmMI1ZoIr9VE/s1600/jam+in+plasticine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTaVcREfU4YgvEJ5kYAp6ul1pEyfkWidl7jT0NMafNuy4vrgNB_M7amJE8NpW-3R_JJbGcAeVdXiamujQJ5z_KRCyWsNxtqu7cBTmFXeRj0oJH1YHYc_-yuDoQIUNRj6JTmMI1ZoIr9VE/s320/jam+in+plasticine.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Then toss some rocks or bark chips over the plasticine and behold your unkillable, swankypants new houseplant.<br />
<br />
</div></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-n0_kydNGYE9OHCqzxeL67dhgLzVXttUpxbinJEbtuS5yRumHsDraHSl7LwAunMFKq4ZFsPJPHRvr9dmFrR8BiatO2qvQPtvJ2LxVKqnxN3h8vwEDdDLbIRSaQb6lCO1n_ydtvYPUaYA/s1600/add+rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-n0_kydNGYE9OHCqzxeL67dhgLzVXttUpxbinJEbtuS5yRumHsDraHSl7LwAunMFKq4ZFsPJPHRvr9dmFrR8BiatO2qvQPtvJ2LxVKqnxN3h8vwEDdDLbIRSaQb6lCO1n_ydtvYPUaYA/s320/add+rocks.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
Oh and if you were going for extra authenticity you could pop one of those support sticks into the Plasticine too and clip the stem to it.</div></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Oh, and I shared over a <a href="http://naptimecrafters.blogspot.com/2011/08/friday-favs-part-26.html">naptime crafers</a>.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-69423973472262779112011-08-22T23:37:00.001-04:002011-08-23T08:48:52.851-04:00un-awesomeYou know how some days you feel like it's barely worth chewing through the leather straps? And everything you touch turns to wet kitty poops?<br />
And your internets won't work all day?<br />
and then you're making miso soup and the boiling water breaks your mug with a crazy bang and slops water on your toes?<br />
And you don't do up the the cap of your Diet Dr Pepper properly and it leaks all over your bed, through the duvet and onto the mattress?<br />
And then you're in the bank and it turns out that Jack Layton died, and all that other stuff seems stupid and your heart is a little broken?<br />
Today was like that.<br />
I'll be back tomorrow, to show you my new shoes and this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7uy7WZ5Kdr2BHzR2qkeQtkv2gUimNHnFr7qi7N9mfJxLqOqGguTewOfCSsfVW6YAWF6h-hlF7R753NT8zNr0RjkbPEdQAALcxHLHBWMd6_nFm0h8wpEij67KeT-M_9kYlt7z4Ac59CYk/s1600/add+rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7uy7WZ5Kdr2BHzR2qkeQtkv2gUimNHnFr7qi7N9mfJxLqOqGguTewOfCSsfVW6YAWF6h-hlF7R753NT8zNr0RjkbPEdQAALcxHLHBWMd6_nFm0h8wpEij67KeT-M_9kYlt7z4Ac59CYk/s320/add+rocks.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br />
Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-80287565025279550032011-08-18T19:13:00.002-04:002011-08-27T15:44:57.242-04:00Pillowcases to Women's Shortie Pajamas Tutorial - OR MC Hammer Loves My Jam(mie)s<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn05GWT1cn42h9SvA_iOHRMrphNv94obQxQtvCIOCVYw4w_a_TCzl1TeBMTREXFPa0HDikwqLVTwpsgsn7-vJA-rUqq97lBI4QQS_mc1AM5olhZIgBLw1IsrHzFzIV1qRFaCN_8MRIQt8/s1600/Jammietop+no+belt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn05GWT1cn42h9SvA_iOHRMrphNv94obQxQtvCIOCVYw4w_a_TCzl1TeBMTREXFPa0HDikwqLVTwpsgsn7-vJA-rUqq97lBI4QQS_mc1AM5olhZIgBLw1IsrHzFzIV1qRFaCN_8MRIQt8/s320/Jammietop+no+belt.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Not Hammer Pants</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>So. You know how sometimes you're getting your kid ready for bed - teeth are brushed, residual funk has been hosed off, softie chums extracted from who-knows-where - and it's time to wrangle an unwilling human into footie jammies? Yes?<br />
And sometimes you're all,<br />
"<b>Break it down</b>, <i>OH-OH OH OH OH-OH OH OH OH.</i> <b>PAJAMA</b> time. Can't touch this. WOAH WOAH WOAH OH OH OH OH. Can't touch this"<br />
Because MC Hammer is hilarious and awesome, specially when you sing the lyrics to <i>U</i> <i><b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=otCpCn0l4Wo">Can't Touch This</a></b></i> in a Jeeves and Wooster accent?<br />
No? Just me?<br />
Well anyway, this has nothing to do with that. <b>This</b> is a half-assed sort of tutorial on how to make a pair of womens shortie jammies from a pair of pillowcases.<br />
<br />
So. Onward!<br />
First you need to procure a pair of pillowcases. Mine came from the Dollarama, so yay for the cheapest ever. But it seems like random, last-pair-in-this-design-no-matching-sheets pillowcases are always around and on crazy sale. <br />
Got yer pillowcases? Here're mine:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihFy0NFcdj59EgONfRfc1xDe60XbOLnjRLPsF7LTDBarPkKIx5ewGN6zxT0FyFkPfV0dJfja9T-FehCghctf5S160oJaSG1teRlt-UI-oCOxu9Y7_G9qNajedLR6ZitsgKC74uKgAsRI/s1600/pillowcases.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihFy0NFcdj59EgONfRfc1xDe60XbOLnjRLPsF7LTDBarPkKIx5ewGN6zxT0FyFkPfV0dJfja9T-FehCghctf5S160oJaSG1teRlt-UI-oCOxu9Y7_G9qNajedLR6ZitsgKC74uKgAsRI/s320/pillowcases.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>The first step is to unpick the stitching on your piller'cases. Have at them with the seam ripper; go on, you can give it some women's-tennis-grunting if you like, I don't mind.<br />
Now you should have EITHER two great big rectangles or 4 smaller rectangles. We're making the top first, so put that other pillowcase someplace safe. But not TOO safe.<br />
Hokay. So the next step is to make a few snips so your big rectangles resemble a camisole shape, sort of. Like this:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx_Y0Bp_WS8qhc-Ma12U62sVWn-tRMm1KXtZXX24rYUdSJ96i6eyYXwOTP2mjYffQHw825zUkDkOC8zrSh5ZcP5G0qHf3jqWHEsjNJpkMBFrc6E90dxouWl58yl2b-vwXG78AbMHizAQk/s1600/cut+here.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx_Y0Bp_WS8qhc-Ma12U62sVWn-tRMm1KXtZXX24rYUdSJ96i6eyYXwOTP2mjYffQHw825zUkDkOC8zrSh5ZcP5G0qHf3jqWHEsjNJpkMBFrc6E90dxouWl58yl2b-vwXG78AbMHizAQk/s320/cut+here.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>I eyeballed how wide the back piece should be and was off by prolly 4 inches. Because apparently in my head I have a giant Quasimodo hump? Maybe?<br />
The front section will be gathered so it should be about 4/5 inches bigger than you are.<br />
And SEW! Right sides together and whip up yer side seams. You could get all fancypants and french seam them for prettiness sake. Let's pretend I did that, kay?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kbgi2JLq_dUkRVT8-icQr6JbrH64O2UzON2MTji6BPdX-AXcNt6d06RUb5meM4gwurB9ECL1wfwhS92cEmSklD5PPD9pLS0MdtkP2_Gw7NRzje52RXPNmtPXzmiWX-0gboYbIQLxDuo/s1600/Sew+up+sides.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kbgi2JLq_dUkRVT8-icQr6JbrH64O2UzON2MTji6BPdX-AXcNt6d06RUb5meM4gwurB9ECL1wfwhS92cEmSklD5PPD9pLS0MdtkP2_Gw7NRzje52RXPNmtPXzmiWX-0gboYbIQLxDuo/s320/Sew+up+sides.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
So now you fold over and hem the raw top bits like this see:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_pCTsVkpKZeS-K2HYl4nSmszYzN7unVtf8hV3t5o7kxP0jAJzgT2rhFRB2QKwVuKB1i_B7QtQ8jZyh_3DatgmOhKSKYCLC5SA897ilnWBcRNaBGsjfB_Oa9aGAxcxQ66Sy7Uq96LhGo/s1600/top+edge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_pCTsVkpKZeS-K2HYl4nSmszYzN7unVtf8hV3t5o7kxP0jAJzgT2rhFRB2QKwVuKB1i_B7QtQ8jZyh_3DatgmOhKSKYCLC5SA897ilnWBcRNaBGsjfB_Oa9aGAxcxQ66Sy7Uq96LhGo/s320/top+edge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And here lets pretend I folded them twice instead of leaving them raw edged like this. (Man, pinking shears made me lazy. Also, laziness made me lazy).<br />
<br />
Ok. Time to do a spot o' gathering. And I'm using the sew-along-some-dental-floss method for this. I can't for the life of me remember where I saw this; but whomever invented it might need to go and collect their Noble Prize for Awesomeness. I've heard Stockholm is lovely this time of year.<br />
Anyway, you sew a wide-ish zigzag along a piece of dental floss then gather it up all super smoothly. Like this see.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zkb_4z7u48XmUKrphhDKyaxoYqAx5pJ2uMT-vK_-BqgBI7d0KzBqGMHqjj-wTXh8UdV1XgqB8SRw_3lLr9qGvmtKofv3LHoVFUdcBmdvF6W1hO0AxxZIZ5Qsr19Nl3NaKLQO5TGYj8w/s1600/dental+floss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zkb_4z7u48XmUKrphhDKyaxoYqAx5pJ2uMT-vK_-BqgBI7d0KzBqGMHqjj-wTXh8UdV1XgqB8SRw_3lLr9qGvmtKofv3LHoVFUdcBmdvF6W1hO0AxxZIZ5Qsr19Nl3NaKLQO5TGYj8w/s320/dental+floss.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvB4rfqe5_tDW5V0INcqJkiJ__mqkPM4Y3hEB0GcKX_Nwn138ypIKdwMS_CUJfRZI2aGrDpdoim580t0CvSBzoOYD_htpapLmR9x-DZ7ue9PQ4Je-Z72KqJI3NAIYRjjf601H_5cF-Hyw/s1600/gather.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvB4rfqe5_tDW5V0INcqJkiJ__mqkPM4Y3hEB0GcKX_Nwn138ypIKdwMS_CUJfRZI2aGrDpdoim580t0CvSBzoOYD_htpapLmR9x-DZ7ue9PQ4Je-Z72KqJI3NAIYRjjf601H_5cF-Hyw/s320/gather.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Then sew over your gathers to hold them in place.<br />
Should be starting to look like a cami about now.<br />
Time to add some straps. You could use a bit of bias binding, sewn over the gathers then extended to make straps (if you see what I mean).<br />
But I happened to have this crochet trim and a powerful yen to use it. So I made straps like this:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO37p3yPEn0iq1n9shKNZH4-MH_LBU8kvtnIOTLX7-biCPAUNtbsOJGn7zpYlFQQgwBVagEVeeg0prEuPaqt-YXMh7HXUAb3-h30miOyRxUpHCigv_PLykXPDJZpVaYtLDv6qX5LmPeX4/s1600/straps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO37p3yPEn0iq1n9shKNZH4-MH_LBU8kvtnIOTLX7-biCPAUNtbsOJGn7zpYlFQQgwBVagEVeeg0prEuPaqt-YXMh7HXUAb3-h30miOyRxUpHCigv_PLykXPDJZpVaYtLDv6qX5LmPeX4/s320/straps.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Then stuck some more trim over the gathers and sewed up the bottom hem. An voila. Jammie top.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1nJe4lJeJV_NWukxyXPMZ6bSnHXGSBJiPb8hm0JyQfSVC3J8zBx8zso0hDhTbpsJEkfRYeCJIqyJSmRPpzx-TRSXp5EuRB3q_MNBatnuysUoSJLaXdI06Jx3fU91h3hxEl0XutumAp3A/s1600/jammie+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1nJe4lJeJV_NWukxyXPMZ6bSnHXGSBJiPb8hm0JyQfSVC3J8zBx8zso0hDhTbpsJEkfRYeCJIqyJSmRPpzx-TRSXp5EuRB3q_MNBatnuysUoSJLaXdI06Jx3fU91h3hxEl0XutumAp3A/s320/jammie+top.jpg" width="233" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now here's where the tute gets REALLY half-assed. There are about a million tutorials on making short out there in the interwebs. my very favourite is <a href="http://www.dana-made-it.com/2008/07/tutorial-pajama-shorts-with-elastic.html">this one here</a> by Dana of MADE. It makes sense and has pretty pictures and everything. My shorts look like a pair of elasticated waist short shorts. Pretty uninspiring, they just happen to be made out of a pillowcase. And there's not a power in the 'verse could convince me to model them on the intertubes. But lookit, this is what the jammie top looks like on your's truly</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCnvPSB_NttyViITslIB5uw0P-YO1bHw6xZQyysA_yfEFrOM0PYehzCiZ4pwC0GPTHCdCTNhg7FJvLq6-kpcJkjud5DP3YKdfGj6wXUC2CG2-NQhiPn7vGf2YpF1r_9D9OwTs5bVMJ1Ko/s1600/on.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCnvPSB_NttyViITslIB5uw0P-YO1bHw6xZQyysA_yfEFrOM0PYehzCiZ4pwC0GPTHCdCTNhg7FJvLq6-kpcJkjud5DP3YKdfGj6wXUC2CG2-NQhiPn7vGf2YpF1r_9D9OwTs5bVMJ1Ko/s320/on.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><br />
And that's it. I'm going to have <i>Cant Touch This</i> in my head for WEEKS. Awesome.<br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica; font-size: 11px;">This is it, for a winner </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica; font-size: 11px;">Dance to this and you're gonna get thinner </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica; font-size: 11px;">Move, slide your rump </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica; font-size: 11px;">Just for a minute let's all do the bump, bump, bump </span></blockquote><br />
<i>Oh, and I shared here:</i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><a href="http://www.decormamma.blogspot.com/"><img src="http://i1131.photobucket.com/albums/m555/Jacquelinne88/frugaliciousfriday-1.png" /> </a></span><br />
And at the new link par-tay over at Mine For The Making - <a href="http://mineforthemaking.blogspot.com/2011/08/diy-diva-thrusdays-1-and-giveaway.html">DIY Diva Thursdays</a>. You guys! FASHUN diys! I'm all over it like a bad smell!Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-47018564248171757652011-08-18T09:21:00.001-04:002011-08-18T09:38:18.812-04:00Peachy Keen Mani - How ToI'll be posting a tute later today, with Jammies, and MC Hammer. (But sadly not for hammer-pant jammies, though the idea has merit). But I just wanted to coo a bit over my newest obsession. See:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87NeWPr3DHNnE95weQIKLD6ze_AzxR3neJK53lzmfGD1xhBgwNATl7AQLc2-D6hmIblXCVSXOTLhA4Abe3WmDnK6HBgh_qK7IAlrZqHYXtN3DOnyhyphenhyphen94nldsmCnrMWmT1MaLIJxM0uIE/s1600/august+15+nails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87NeWPr3DHNnE95weQIKLD6ze_AzxR3neJK53lzmfGD1xhBgwNATl7AQLc2-D6hmIblXCVSXOTLhA4Abe3WmDnK6HBgh_qK7IAlrZqHYXtN3DOnyhyphenhyphen94nldsmCnrMWmT1MaLIJxM0uIE/s320/august+15+nails.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><br />
Fingers!<br />
No. Not Fingers, I've had those for ages. My newest obsession is quick-drying nail polish. Because... Awesome. Plainly awesome. Sally Hansen Insta-Dry I have (non paid endorsement) hearts for you.<br />
And I wanted to share how I squeeze an extra couple of days out of polish if (when) it gets chipped at the ends:<br />
Like ZIZ, see?<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0pak3Uthw3HMEbLGAH0uX5r8RMtnrgmpr_q4VdLAjK_i0VpbZl7BOpNNr_nqd2-Q84321Ybn33WDmc7_i9EF9gyjaX1kL-NWWbmNdquZPkvZiGa3Ft6VKIUcMj4Nom6VULEofPwPXzyY/s1600/peachy+keen+nails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0pak3Uthw3HMEbLGAH0uX5r8RMtnrgmpr_q4VdLAjK_i0VpbZl7BOpNNr_nqd2-Q84321Ybn33WDmc7_i9EF9gyjaX1kL-NWWbmNdquZPkvZiGa3Ft6VKIUcMj4Nom6VULEofPwPXzyY/s400/peachy+keen+nails.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I think they look like slices of peach and the in these clashy colours they have an early Fresh Prince vibe going on (What? That's a thing right?)</div><div style="text-align: left;">They're also super easy to do. You wait til your base colour is looking kinda meh and a little chipped. Then you swipe a layer of contrasting colour over the tips at an angle. The insta-dry works brill for it cause it's REALLY opaque and pigment-y so you don't need two coats. And done. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And now for a long-winded anecdote!</div><div style="text-align: left;">So, I used to only ever wear two colours. EVER. Dark red on my toes and light pink on my fingernails. And that as the law and the law was... actually kind of dumb, but whatever. It's just what I did.</div>Anyway, I was picking up some polish to go with my Maid of Honour frock and trying to decide between Ballet Slipper sheer and Icy Pink sheer when Teddy was all,<br />
"WELLOW! Mummy! Wellow! and Green and BLUE!"<br />
So I tried on a nailful of each and they were pretty and opaque-y and dried instantly, just like it says.<br />
"Ooou" I said. But I bought the Ballet Slipper.<br />
Then Teddy spent the rest of the day cooing over the pretty "Wellow" on the random nail I left painted.<br />
So I picked up a "wellow".<br />
Then a green. Then a bright bright pink. And a dark blue. And now I am powerless in the face of my addiction. (though I've been picking them up when they're on sale at like $4-5, which I justify in a "Hey, it's about the price of a Starbucks" way. Or by using my Drugstore points.)<br />
My kid makes my life more colourful (and maybe braver) is what I'm saying here.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-63141764237680767932011-08-11T22:51:00.000-04:002011-08-11T22:51:24.686-04:00political animals<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><i>This is something I wrote way back in the first few months of the year, and didn't post, it's a bit personal, and it has nothing to do with the stuff I normally write about here. But given how the rest of the summer has gone for me and the bizarro situation at home (in England) just now-ish, I figured what the hell. So that's what this is, the backstory is <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/01/30/egypt-revolution-2011_n_816026.html">the revolution in Egypt</a>, which I watched compulsively on the BBC for hours and hours...</i></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I've been pondering some other things.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Like, do you remember the moment you became an adult? Or that you took your first steps to adultiness? (If the moment you're thinking of is a nekkid one then that's prolly not the one I mean.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I mean the minutes, hours or days when your horizons broadened exponentially and the world turned into a place to be observed as opposed to a place to move through mindlessly.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Yah, then.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">What's going on in Egypt right now has me thinking about this. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">My moment came with a revolution too.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">It was late December of 1989 I was 11 (just). It was the second Christmas that the Fat-Man-in-Red wasn't an unassailable truth for me; and I was still so practiced at believing that it almost felt irrational not to believe.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Both my parents, my sibs, my Auntie M and Uncle Ant and my brand-new cousin Gabe were ensconced at a villa in Centre Parcs (80's, English, middle-class Resort and Center O' Funtimes). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">There are a few things that I recall about that holiday. A new teddy bear with a stern/charming face (named Edward, natch). Riding on the back on my dad's bike "yah mule yah!". Taking the big water chute for the first time. And the fall of Ceausescu's regime in Romania and the subsequent days of violence. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">This is me then.*</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFCSa8TKyF1FlcY64giXM_dbd6MMf5dur7kCuNSKOP-fyuFpSP84Xjfm3Y9YdUrtO1hfPnL9mdQXb83ZkY6Dx80LbLyMefD4JBNpLWWiVpbTackOIFQd10mvkd4rKZb6rTTKWsp_hUCA/s1600/1989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFCSa8TKyF1FlcY64giXM_dbd6MMf5dur7kCuNSKOP-fyuFpSP84Xjfm3Y9YdUrtO1hfPnL9mdQXb83ZkY6Dx80LbLyMefD4JBNpLWWiVpbTackOIFQd10mvkd4rKZb6rTTKWsp_hUCA/s320/1989.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">We are a family of obsessive news watchers. And it was a big year for news. We watched as the Berlin wall fell. (2 days after my 11th birthday and the same day my teacher had confidently informed me that the wall would "never fall".) My mum let me stay up late to watch that, but what we saw reported from Bucharest looked different to Berlin; Berlin was all all joyous faces and mullets. The faces in Bucharest were a grim mix of blistering fear, and something that looked unstoppable, hope maybe. We watched tanks firing on Ceausescu's palace and my world got bigger, the concept of freedom solidified for me. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I, of course, had no idea what it was like to live anything but a life of privilege, no concept of what the realities of oppression were (thank goodness), but I could feel, and see - writ large on people's faces - the idea that some things were worth fighting - and fighting ugly and bloody - for. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">That Look is in Egypt now; on the faces of women; and in my (over simplified) opinion, young men always seem to be shouting about something, when young women break down a lifetime of conditioning and start shouting on the streets, well that's when the world is about to change. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">So I watch. Compulsively. For hours. Hoping for the usual things for the brave women and men on the streets, you know, peace, freedom, lives lived well and happily</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">*Oh my god. The sailor dress. Wowzers.</span><br />
<br />
Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-43873651268426118172011-08-06T11:15:00.001-04:002011-08-06T11:41:47.449-04:00The Right Stuff - or Teddy's ROCKETSHIP PartyMy kid was born in February. You know, coldest, darkest, stinkin'est month of the year February. Lounging around on my balcony in the sunshine and warmth - which is totally what I'm doing now - I can barely remember how lousy it is to be cold.<br />
<div>So Teddy's parties will probably always be of the indoor variety (unless he adopts an official birthday, like the Queen. Which actually isn't that bad an idea, come to think of it).</div><div>Without the option of bouncy structures and water-based outside shenanigans, <i>themes</i> are where it's at. His first birthday was a Mustache party. His second was Monkey V's Robot. And never happened on account of copious amounts of sick (yay for birthdays in flu season. No wait, not yay.) And his 3rd was a ROCKET SHIP party. And it went a bit like this:</div><div>There were magnetic invitations to stick to the fridge, like this:</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2vBp4DsHmbMjfkfICCGw3ruc6SWz17c7FDHM-QeYMEvvA7m4zW2DALyh3VTD4VEkrdOZDa_2VfVjVg9QTT5zadHWpp9h7p33xwYcZvwT-XgL3G4vviWkk7wrtaWLNgj2yEjSq8xL2lk/s1600/invite+for+lb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2vBp4DsHmbMjfkfICCGw3ruc6SWz17c7FDHM-QeYMEvvA7m4zW2DALyh3VTD4VEkrdOZDa_2VfVjVg9QTT5zadHWpp9h7p33xwYcZvwT-XgL3G4vviWkk7wrtaWLNgj2yEjSq8xL2lk/s320/invite+for+lb.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>'Member the magnetic photo-backing stuff from <a href="http://luckyandblissful.blogspot.com/2011/01/incredible-magnetic-boy.html">this post</a>? I loves it (in fact it might be my new favourite medium. It's my new clear plastic chopping board or contact paper) </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And star cookies like this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvQ2ax0NjvbGeNk9ElGjoPqvHcwHSn9XZqKlsDO2ED5jI0N97JGyyse4JumLRDnmwfDDyM1QSm3c4cmLgluA2rhB0FoW3Y3vSfkw0kj5YcYVKxW3QnKLogXq7HAJ-gU0Jaw8NsJMsUlE/s1600/star+cookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvQ2ax0NjvbGeNk9ElGjoPqvHcwHSn9XZqKlsDO2ED5jI0N97JGyyse4JumLRDnmwfDDyM1QSm3c4cmLgluA2rhB0FoW3Y3vSfkw0kj5YcYVKxW3QnKLogXq7HAJ-gU0Jaw8NsJMsUlE/s320/star+cookies.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="244" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And planet-decorated water bottles like this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuOedg16VzWZv4_yx-lYPRaw1Zk_XPFCKdoGRgeHYbFwKzO-fZc3vAo228Pq59rYaIl_buPUwhPVHZouCmIM5dJ_POZFRFQVBzeuI9XnvyQykpyL3L7MkW9U0ZitLZHX-cpE3N8XZ7iGM/s1600/bottles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuOedg16VzWZv4_yx-lYPRaw1Zk_XPFCKdoGRgeHYbFwKzO-fZc3vAo228Pq59rYaIl_buPUwhPVHZouCmIM5dJ_POZFRFQVBzeuI9XnvyQykpyL3L7MkW9U0ZitLZHX-cpE3N8XZ7iGM/s320/bottles.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="259" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And an extraordinary cake, (made by my good chum Sarah, whom, it turns out, is a bloody genius cake decorator) like this: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrlst25LNPeb61iEbb8GCnyU_VkqrTcg6gtT_-r7XNXM2eqcX1pD3FXcSoG4D8sR752CAKlGvABRFI7zbLZi4ol4apKuUb4ilAbMm6ro7T70AXTnU_fR8LXSFZiJukzJGBcjUV5kvodU/s1600/cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrlst25LNPeb61iEbb8GCnyU_VkqrTcg6gtT_-r7XNXM2eqcX1pD3FXcSoG4D8sR752CAKlGvABRFI7zbLZi4ol4apKuUb4ilAbMm6ro7T70AXTnU_fR8LXSFZiJukzJGBcjUV5kvodU/s320/cake.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div> <i>This lousy picture doesn't do justice to the <b>extreme awesomeness</b> of the thing, or the fact that it was<b> three</b> different flavours of deliciousness and had marshmallow fondant and a picture of my kid on it. For reals.</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">There was a photobooth wall, like this:</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfZsZjmUhOGV1w0TtsIX1tATe0dNpwp3vmEt5OBENRiOzNA3oi91Fbhb03tSwGkW86G-bRM1gi13whpE-7lgWBxq04mQEADRLp4AueXu8gGk_J72eczrFnNw1oFBYX3V1hgvfFHovIDnM/s1600/booth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfZsZjmUhOGV1w0TtsIX1tATe0dNpwp3vmEt5OBENRiOzNA3oi91Fbhb03tSwGkW86G-bRM1gi13whpE-7lgWBxq04mQEADRLp4AueXu8gGk_J72eczrFnNw1oFBYX3V1hgvfFHovIDnM/s320/booth.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Made out of a plastic dollarstore tablecloth; with white stars and red planets -cut from plain white printer paper and recycled (as in, from the recycling pile) card - and double-sided taped onto the tablecloth.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">There were (dollar store foam-core board) cut-outs of astronaut helmets, like these: </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTusmrBA9pV1mgk-AKvJyChTboGM_ILpT6oXZLQ1883LInaKQ_TtT6fskbZmw2bgLKse6ugCLnXQJvasyA4r_jPwac9fs0KozNNrFHH_E0-9AtUSog8gduYQpM2lIDiP2VbCgKjcCyWF0/s1600/james+and+amie+too.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTusmrBA9pV1mgk-AKvJyChTboGM_ILpT6oXZLQ1883LInaKQ_TtT6fskbZmw2bgLKse6ugCLnXQJvasyA4r_jPwac9fs0KozNNrFHH_E0-9AtUSog8gduYQpM2lIDiP2VbCgKjcCyWF0/s320/james+and+amie+too.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_YbXKgeWybUikBTjshCempUAdya6sGLB-ZTMEvoBTV_t0inARxYuNyGy2qpctuSJglyp_BJqtR80KCSkuT7PwlRW3P6clgpJlMSrsNJf8vG2ou0tg2Yhq7immL_QOxbgaLWHz_yBnFs/s1600/teddy+birthday+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_YbXKgeWybUikBTjshCempUAdya6sGLB-ZTMEvoBTV_t0inARxYuNyGy2qpctuSJglyp_BJqtR80KCSkuT7PwlRW3P6clgpJlMSrsNJf8vG2ou0tg2Yhq7immL_QOxbgaLWHz_yBnFs/s320/teddy+birthday+collage.jpg" width="108" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> And a felt helmet for the birthday kid. Like this.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQCsWG9Ktjzuv1aeUwBXDWsz1bao38dDJw5bd_lMeW3c_R3es9Nv8fxQVV05nejRC1NTmg22HejUmaXbcoca5nWpgaH1KQFrKDSMnFGijXCDTgI03yekxb81BOXzdMiMc_JKnBQBVstE/s1600/teddy+space+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQCsWG9Ktjzuv1aeUwBXDWsz1bao38dDJw5bd_lMeW3c_R3es9Nv8fxQVV05nejRC1NTmg22HejUmaXbcoca5nWpgaH1KQFrKDSMnFGijXCDTgI03yekxb81BOXzdMiMc_JKnBQBVstE/s320/teddy+space+collage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
There were COSMOnauts for the grown-ups (see, like cosmonaut, but with Cosmopolitans, see? see?You guys, that still makes me smirk) And Cosmo-NOTS for the non boozing crowd (that makes me smirk too! hearts for puns.)<br />
<br />
We made the cocktails by the pitcher, using large slugs of vodka, triple sec, lime cordial and low calorie cranberry juice, over ice, the cosmo-nots were orange juice, cranberry juice and a dash of lime cordial over squished up ice.<br />
<br />
There were, I vaguely recall, other decoration type things too, and food maybe? But I (of course) forgot to take pictures.<br />
At any rate, Teddy was fairly thrilled, and hijinx were had and the photobooth pictures turned out well. So I'm calling it a win<br />
My sweetheart turns 40 (!) in a months time and I'm scrambling for an idea for that (his last two parties were superfuntimes, with <a href="http://luckyandblissful.blogspot.com/2009/09/operation-sssh-mission-accomplished.html">secrets and red balloons</a> and <a href="http://luckyandblissful.blogspot.com/2010/10/grumpy-old-men.html">Grumpy Old Men</a>).<br />
<div><br />
</div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-12268681210414704162011-08-05T09:43:00.000-04:002011-08-05T09:43:12.938-04:00been a while...So, I accidentally neglected my blooge for <b>O, 'bout 6 months</b>. But here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to distract myself with a picture of my kid, get a bit caught up, THEN... pretend it NEVER happened.<br />
What never happened?<br />
EXACTLY!<br />
So here's my kid and me driving a tractor - you may not recognise him on account of how he's turned into PRACTICALLY AN ADULT.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCOu1c8njAvKO026R2H9J7ipD78lO70X14nblqG67ibuzeRgRh3KY3ovbof03g_COtivgo2W0HZBLkBmE4d056WBO_4H6WINBO5FqSPZn2uIgb-Ul_pUqOLYEOCIuDXjE2yvTHBSmqygI/s1600/mummy+gets+a+ride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCOu1c8njAvKO026R2H9J7ipD78lO70X14nblqG67ibuzeRgRh3KY3ovbof03g_COtivgo2W0HZBLkBmE4d056WBO_4H6WINBO5FqSPZn2uIgb-Ul_pUqOLYEOCIuDXjE2yvTHBSmqygI/s320/mummy+gets+a+ride.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So. there's that, now about the catching up part. Expect a slew o' posts that make not-a-lot of chronological sense. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And some politics. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have, up to now, avoided politics 'round here but it's been a very politisised early summer for me so I'm going to talk about it. And some of it is contentious; so I won't be offended if you're all </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"WHAT THE DEUCE? This woman is the worst kind of wishy washy liberal. I must unfollow her IMMEDIATELY, if not sooner." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But before that there'll be a picture heavy write up of my kid's 3rd burfday party. And me bragging on my HOLY-COW-I-DID-A-TRIATHLON! prowess. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, consider yourself fore-warned. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Also? you guys? I've missed you and I hope your summer has been BLOODY BRILLIANT so far.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">x</div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-108685536390033982011-02-16T14:57:00.001-05:002011-02-16T14:59:03.830-05:00Waterloo SunsetWell hi! Did everybody have a smoochy and super romantical valentines day? Ours was pretty magical.<br />
<br />
Hey, did you know that my sweetie and I met on Valentines day? We did. 14 years ago. 14! By random chance at the end of a night. You know the Pulp song<a href="http://www.songlyrics.com/pulp/something-changed-lyrics/"> <i>S</i><i>omething Changed</i></a>? Like that.<br />
Instead of going home we wandered around London; from bars to cafes and from Leicester Sq to Waterloo Bridge. It must have been cold but I don't remember that; I remember laughing until I snorted and never wanting the night to end. When the tube started running the next morning I was at least halfway to being madly in love.<br />
We were practically babies. I was 18 (a cynical, city-bred-riot-gurl 18, but still 18). And of all the things that I chose then, (dubious outfits, terrible hair, the WRONG degree course) my sweetie was the best choice I made. Maybe ever. And I would choose him again and again. Then, and now.<br />
<br />
Wait, where was I?<br />
Oh yah! So Monday was SUCH a romantic night. We put the bear to bed. My sweetie cooked a feast. I put on something swishy. We used a tablecloth (swanky!). And we necked on the couch while watching Downton Abbey. It was PERFECT.<br />
Part of my sweetie's giftie was kind of dumb but funny (at least in my head it's funny). He was in desperate need of new sockies, so I got 7 pairs (one sockie per year!) wrapped them up and made him a card with a pear on it that said <i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">WE are my favourite pair</span></b></i>. Then totally chuckled to myself. A lot.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2dnFygjdTSa1M0m9-qQOXHC5hFhsTACZwjp3x4rHxqEHdMphYzr6drqdZi7GhjvbsDgSeME2L5ul0Iczdo8gNwNRpaCfMZo_sMl1GZFkTCw8F3Ok8zupO5-L4p99i3JMGptaRl34jnjw/s1600/pear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2dnFygjdTSa1M0m9-qQOXHC5hFhsTACZwjp3x4rHxqEHdMphYzr6drqdZi7GhjvbsDgSeME2L5ul0Iczdo8gNwNRpaCfMZo_sMl1GZFkTCw8F3Ok8zupO5-L4p99i3JMGptaRl34jnjw/s320/pear.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><br />
(You can't really see it but the paper is shiny and the pear has gold leaf on it. MAN I love shopping for swanky paper. I completely crack out and touch everything. Sometimes I sniff it. But Curry's frowns on licking the paper goods. Or, uh, so I've heard. )Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-81573000561871694642011-02-11T15:04:00.002-05:002011-02-12T17:38:18.799-05:00royalty and poetry<div><div><div>So, this is what I've been doing with my paws just recently, </div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_5y-CX5d8yUWzJMxk4pmymmylc38Zl2pFwf8Qhqhyphenhyphen0rC8G6y_nynusc3pG7HPS-acwgiCSdV_WvnBl_Y3hvI5e8VK1eADVbJEVR9epS7LF-z9mcTU_Wqx_3v_tWmr40kodLWKpO8BLs/s1600/lacy+ou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_5y-CX5d8yUWzJMxk4pmymmylc38Zl2pFwf8Qhqhyphenhyphen0rC8G6y_nynusc3pG7HPS-acwgiCSdV_WvnBl_Y3hvI5e8VK1eADVbJEVR9epS7LF-z9mcTU_Wqx_3v_tWmr40kodLWKpO8BLs/s320/lacy+ou.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>It's for my sis (don't look Sarah!) and it's only half finished. The pattern is from <a href="http://www.crochetspot.com/crochet-pattern-royal-scarf/">Claire at the Crochet Spot </a> (love those guys!), and it's way easier than it looks and SUPER instant gratificationy (my favourite.) I'll be overdying it, maybe yellow, maybe tourquise; something springy at any rate.</div></div></div><div><br />
</div><div>The other thing of note (well, to me) is that my bear has discovered rhyming. When left to his own devices he will roll words around on his tongue, making up rhymes or finding them and making himself laugh out loud, </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"tree, snee, PEE"</span>.<br />
<div><div>Which, you guys, makes me ridiculously happy. See, I am a person who likes poetry. A LOT. </div><div>I like to write it (don't worry I won't inflict it on you). I like to read it. I like to memorize it and the say it out loud to myself when I'm in the shower (what? that's a thing!). If I have a particularly strong feeling I like to read poetry that resonates with it. I don't have a favourite poet and I don't even have a favourite era but if it's meaning condensed into the succinctest form then I'm all over it like a bad smell. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I particularly like an anthologie, because, you know, eclectic = awesome; and it's like being allowed a peek into its editors head. (if you're similarly inclined then two of my favorites are the <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Staying-Alive-Poems-Unreal-Times/dp/1401359264">Staying Alive</a></i> and <i>Being Alive</i> by Neil Astley (this isn't one of those buy-it-and-I-get-cash things, I just loves them)).</div></div></div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-12647599138784525892011-02-08T22:08:00.001-05:002011-02-08T22:09:11.086-05:00normal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Hoo boy! How did 3 weeks go by? What have you guys been up to? Obsessively watching the coverage from Egypt? Snuffling down and avoiding the snowy snowiness? Brick training for yer triathlon? Rearranging your wardrobe? No wait, that's what I've been doing!</div>And I finished my TBI story. Done. It was so difficult that I got stress blisters on my hands (my own personal brand of crazy) but it's done and I hope that it will be useful. I might stick all my TBI stuff on one page and whack it in my sidebar. In case anybody is curious or (oh man, I hope not) in the same sort of situation. On the plus side, writing a novel with smooching and a happy ending seems like <b>cake</b> in comparison.<br />
<br />
I haven't made anything! In fact I haven't even finished the stuff I was working on, but I'm slowly getting back on track.<br />
<br />
And my bear is turning 3! THREE! I have no idea how this can possibly be; but apparently TIME just happens.<br />
We have a rocket ship party planned and I've been making magnetic invites with a kind of MCM, nuclear-age thing going on. And planning theme cocktails; COSMOnauts for grown-ups and COSMO-nots for the non boozy crowd. And a photobooth with space suit helmet cutouts. And dressing our door as a space ship hatch. I may get all crazy and make Teddy as space suit, but we'll see.<br />
And my ma is going to be here! Which is so awesome on account of Teddy has been talking about her constantly since September (Grammie makes cake? We make a cake for grammie? Grammie reads stories? Grammie drive a van? A Wolgs-wagon van?)<br />
And we're all potty trained around here! (Wait, TMI? Maybe? I DID mean Teddy.) Bribery is an ugly word. But you guys, it was straight bribery.<br />
<br />
And that's pretty much it. I've been wardrobe remixing like crazy on account of The Big Cull. I'm keeping track of the whats and wheres (and wears); if I can't work something at least two ways it's OUTTA here. (I'm LOUSY at this though so it's taking some willpower.) And let's see, this post needs a picture so it doesn't look all nekkid...<br />
How about some FEET? Two pair. Kind of matching.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2psGrBbZPmM7g19ovGcDVqh7FDfE8vWOGul-WY6xIAUHRlU8PlAdUEmBgeEtF04nXIvKgcE-ssgGK-CH69T6Tn7Q_vTh4lX6EO0-n-4Cv7yuYiDh6VrUYElSg0YsTxsJ6tgObdYconI8/s1600/feetz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2psGrBbZPmM7g19ovGcDVqh7FDfE8vWOGul-WY6xIAUHRlU8PlAdUEmBgeEtF04nXIvKgcE-ssgGK-CH69T6Tn7Q_vTh4lX6EO0-n-4Cv7yuYiDh6VrUYElSg0YsTxsJ6tgObdYconI8/s320/feetz.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>xErinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5174816378602212753.post-52702655842713307952011-01-22T01:21:00.000-05:002011-01-22T01:21:55.448-05:00And the real story is...I'll get back to the sort of blogging where I make stuff sometime soon, instead of the "hey, look at my kid and my sweetie" diversion tactics. Maybe. It has been a kind of a brain squeezing week for me. I am working on something that is HARD.<br />
I'm writing something for my therapist, her name is Ramona and she is awesome. If you or your family ever need to be put back together after a Traumatic Brain Injury (and I can't tell you how much I hope you never do); then Ramona is your guy.<br />
Right now she is working on a thing, a <i>Field Guide to Brain Injury</i> if you like, from a family's perspective. And she asked me contribute from <i>my</i> perspective.<br />
I am genuinely honoured to be asked, but it's hard for a couple of reasons.<br />
Firstly because it was not a superfun time; excavating those feelings from back then, then honing them down into words, the right words, to tell the story with honesty and integrity. Not so easy.<br />
And I guess that's the other part of it. I do not want to fail. Because if someone had handed me a book that said, "this is the deal with brain injuries" on that shitty day in September, that might have helped. And to have the opportunity to help, that's a big deal.<br />
And mostly what I want to say is,<br />
Alive but broken is hard.<br />
But alive is not nothing.<br />
And alive and moving forward is the <i>only thing</i>.<br />
<br />
xErinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00632201205900079560noreply@blogger.com3