Glue Gun Burns and Such

I've been at it again, trying to compete with Martha Junior.  Only this time, it's not Martha Junior but someone else who wants to be like Martha Junior just as bad as I do and is succeeding in ways I can only dream about.  I found this gal just by happenstance; well, actually cruising through Martha Juniors site, but who's asking anyway?  I can admit that I "cruise" through MJ's site without feeling inadequate and a complete failure...after my regimen of prescribed drugs.  But back to the story. I find this other person's crafty, craft site and think "Hey I can do that!"  And so I've set off a chain of events that is sure to lead me to some catastrophe, which the title clearly indicates.  It's a wreath of all things, I've decided to tackle.  And not any wreath this lady proclaims but one that is both easy and affordable as everything is had and begotten at the Dollar Store!  Detour here please.

The Dollar Store!  My friends, it's BETTER than Goodwill, and you all remember my success at that place!  But instead, everything is a Dollar!  Tax of course is added on but it's a dollar nonetheless.  I'm sure you've frequented one on occasion, as had I.  Now however, it's like a regular pilgrimage.  From cheap dish sponges, to those little "brush your teeth on the go" brushes to a whole plethora of junk toys, my Dollar Store has it all!  And it's clean to boot, so what's not to love?  And if this other Martha Junior want-a-be says to go there for my craft supplies, that's exactly what I'm gonna do.

Back to the plan. The wreath is made from a Dollar Store book or two (title unimportant, thanks be, as have you SEEN the books they offer?), a foam wreath and, wait for it.  Your trusty glue gun.  If you remember I couldn't find that blasted gun to save my life while making the now infamous faux fireflies.  I looked high and low at the time and ended up using a Billy Mays (God rest his soul) knock off.  (Which by the way is still working.  Will wonders never cease?)  But alas, I found the glue gun in my very disorganized craft closet, which is disorganized because I can't seem to get it together to get IT together!  *sigh!  Anyway, the idea is to use these folded pages from the book to form a beautiful wreath that would be worthy to hang in your home.  I'm excited about the prospect and even more so since the all the items, save for the glue gun, are found at the Dollar Store.  Off I go!  And success!  I end up paying the required Dollar.  Granted, I bought 6 wreath forms, two books, sponges, a timer, purse sanitizer spray, marbles, tuna snack packs (???), and a bunch of other stuff I've lost track of but the total came to $38.  I'm not stressed as of course, all those items were absolutely needed.

Back at home I start the task of prepping the books by inking the edges.  I happened to already have the proper ink for this and created edges that looked old and worn, though not ripped.  No ripping allowed.  After the inking, I began tearing pages out of the book.  I feel no remorse whatsoever about this and found it kind of cathartic actually.  Heated up my gun and started rolling pages and gluing them to the form.  1/3 of the way through and I realized I needed a better glue gun as the mini one I had was eating through my small supply of mini glue sticks.  So of course, I'm off to pick up a new gun.  What Joy!  I find one with duel temperatures that has the ability to go with-out it's power cord for a whole 5 minutes, I'm sold!  Back home, I successfully complete the wreath, but only after several burns that have now blistered.  I commandeered my Better Half to take this shot as it's of my "choice" finger of the left hand.  I'm including the picture here because frankly, it's just exactly how my luck goes with these projects; one burned something or other at a time.  It's a real Calamity.

P.S. The wreath looks great though, so I've got that going for me.

Project #2

Martha Junior has been at it again, and we all know what this means.  I HAVE to attempt the project she's put forth as being easy, fun and cheap.  Whether or not any of this is true?  Well, I'll be the one to prove it.  And chances are, I'll go way over board in a miserable attempt.  However, I actually think (perhaps hope is a better word?) that I may be able to turn out a respectable project, and here's why.

Her latest project involves the art work of a young child of your choice, a dark crayon, fabric of your choice, though a more rustic appearing one the better, embroidery floss and needle.  The art work should consist of a simple drawing; trace the drawing with a dark crayon.  Lay traced drawing face down on fabric, iron with a warm iron; this creates a transfer of the artwork onto the fabric where you then follow the line in stitches using the embroidery floss and needle.  I think it looks fabulous, see?  Artwork re-done  I don't think it could really get any easier and it doesn't look like much skills in the way of sewing is required.  Saying that, I'm feeling rather confident as I've had experience in cross stitch.  This, is in no way suppose to look perfect like those little X's you cross stitch so I'm feeling VERY confident to say the least.

So I begin by asking my Little Chick to draw me a picture of anything she wants.  She asks for more direction but I wanted her to decide on her own.  First go around it was a skinny flower, which I really liked, but I didn't think I could get it to transfer well so I asked her to draw a self portrait.  She agreed and here's  her finished product: 

I went over it with a dark crayon, just as Martha Junior indicated.  The results were pretty crisp and I thought perhaps I was really onto something!  The excitement was abound!  I quickly dashed out to get the fabric that I just knew I could find.  And find I did at the small, local, independent stitchery shop.  It's a rustic linen that cost me a whopping $16.00.  I'm disappointed in that aspect to be honest because once again, it was more than I wanted to spend on this project, but a sacrifice had to be made obviously, after I saw my Little Chick's self portrait.

The attempt at doing the iron transfer did dampen things.  I just couldn't get it to work all that well.  While some areas did come through on the fabric, the majority didn't.  I had to resort to Plan B, which often is the case...in my case.  The type of linen I chose was fairly thin and I could see the drawing just fine through it.  So, pencil in hand, I simply traced the original drawing onto my fabric.  It was easy, peasy and I was pleased with the results.

As luck would have it, I had all the remaining supplies from my cross stitch days.  I chose a nice brown floss, three ply, placed a hoop on the my work area and started in late afternoon.  My Better Half was pretty perplexed that I had once again started another project.  Since the Faux Fireflies are still an on-going thing, currently sitting on my dining room table, he had a right to be questioning my stamina.  But BEHOLD-The Finished Project!  

I'm so darn proud of myself, I could practically scream it from my front door.  And, I can't really say there's been any Calamity with this.  Therefore,  I'm just going to sit back, and appreciate the results of my labor!  Rejoice people, there is hope after all!

The 4 hour tour: My in-flight Diary from SFO to MSP

So I had the opportunity for a little trip this past weekend.  I actually traveled alone, sans Little Chicks and Better Half.  It's something I've done before so I'm used to it by now, save for finding long term parking at the airport, but that's another story.  As always, it was a great way to get some solid people watching in.  I don't need to tell you how successful people watching can be at an airport.  There's a plethora of things to spy on.  From the harried mom with two kids and no Better Half to help her (who I always can sympathize with) to the old couple who have traveled maybe 3 times in the 65 years they've been on the planet, to the hippy chick and her boyfriend who is trying to get his surf board through security and stowed as carry-on baggage.  It's like a buffet of fun.  So let me start my buffet line right here....

Security.  Or more specifically the TOES you see in security.   That's right, I said it.  Toes.  With the new rules since that infamous day in our history, shoes must come off and into the buckets to be x-rayed and given close examination in ways you didn't think possible for a pair of shoes.  This always leaves me mindful of how recent my pedicure is.  I've learned this past weekend that I'm in the minority when it comes to that type of thinking and following is my case in point.  The gentleman in front of me had the most ugly big toe I've ever seen.  It was long, hairy and I swear, the nail had some funkiness going on.  He didn't seem at all bothered by it, and walked along as if it was perfectly normal to have a huge, hairy gorilla as an appendage.   And gorilla it was.  It most likely was a good half inch longer then the rest of his toes, at least as far as I could estimate from a standing distance.  The hair growing off the thing could have rivaled King Kong himself, and I was half expecting to see the tip of a banana appear.  I contemplated taking a photo w/my phone, but being in a tight line, I knew my chance of getting caught were high, so I gave up that impulse.  You'll have to just believe me, how very disgusting it was.  But he seemed nonplussed by the whole thing so I tried to hold my cookies and kept moving. 

And while we're on the subject of Security, I need to say one more thing: When you pick up your bucket off the x-ray conveyor belt, MOVE AWAY FROM THE BELT SO THOSE BEHIND YOU MAY GET THEIR ITEMS!   Whew, that felt good!

The Talker,  you know the one.  They.  Never.  Ever.  Shut.  Up.  From the time you spy them at the ticket counter, to the time you see them disrobing at the front of security,  to the time you see they are on your flight, to the time they sit in your general vicinity on the plane, they have a running dialog with whom ever will listen.  If you're in a 5 seat radius of The Talker, you're doomed to hear their life history along with any and all ailments that they've been inflicted with.  Any children?  You'll know about them along with any spouses, children or pets they may have.  Job?  Don't worry, you'll have a complete resume in your lap by the end of the first hour.  Travel plans?  You'll know what relative, friend, or job conference, they'll be going to, along with any other thing they have planned on their trip.  You'll also find out when their return flight is, which can come in handy.  Make note and change YOUR travel plans so as not to run into them on your return.  You'll know everything there is to know about The Talker and then some, by the time your 4 hour tour is over.  Keep your ear buds and MP3 handy when you travel Friend, you'll need it to drone out The Talker.

Tomato Juice.  Ever notice how you're compelled to order a complimentary tomato juice when you fly?  What's with that?  I know I'm not alone.  There's something about that recycled air that calls to have tomato juice thrown in.  Never mind that you never buy the stuff at home, you'll always feel compelled to order it when flying.  I don't know why....

Finally, my personal demise on this particular trip: Arm Hair Static.  I had this happen the whole flight.  My hair being statically attracted to the arm hair of the man sitting next to me.  The mental image alone is bothersome, never mind the fact that I have arm hair long enough to be statically charged!  It was a real struggle not to unbuckle my commercial quality seat belt and run screaming down the narrow aisle.  While I contemplated doing just that, the airline attendant stopped at my row, where I ordered my complimentary tomato juice; only to be told they no longer carry it as it's not a popular drink choice.  It WAS a real Calamity.

Zzzzzzzzz's

Let's talk sleep, or lack there of.  You'd have to be living under a rock to not know that once you have children, sleep is a thing of the past.  Kind of along the lines of a statement I made in one of my last posts-"s*x anytime, anywhere."  Where ever that went, sleep followed.  Closely.  At a mad run.  It's never been seen since.  Unless of course, you're able to get away for a weekend, then those two items are almost synonymous in nature, in that, they magically appear.  But THAT is another post, today, it's lack of sleep.

My Littlest Chick is 2 1/2, which means that he's yet to understand and enjoy the vastness of his own bed.  Instead, he finds "Mama's bed" the place to be.  And it's always, "Mama's" bed, not Daddy's bed, ever.  I'm not sure why this is, but secretly, I like it that way.  I only wish that it WAS my bed, but instead it's become his bed.  One where he squeezes himself in the middle of my better half and I.  Pushes his hot little feet into my back, pokes fingers into the back of Better Half, and rests peacefully.  Only to flop this way or that, waking up the two adults that are in bed with him.  It's a constant battle to keep him in his bed, one that I've painstakingly tried to make special and alluring, to no avail.  From special singing sheep, to a plastic light up ladybug, to a silky, celestial blanket (yes, real silk and it cost Santa an arm and a leg), there's nothing that can keep him in his bed.  So of course, I've resorted to the one thing I'm sure will work.  Bribery.

I'm a big believer in bribes.  It's practically a part of the very fabric America was built on (See Here), and still goes on today.  The American Mafia (See Here) didn't get where it is today without the tools of bribery.  Because of their great success, I see no reason to try it myself.  Weapon of choice?  Candy.  Not that he likes candy all that much, I just know he'll never turn it down.  I'm quite sure he snuggles down with the images of sticky gumdrops in his eyes, with the sweet words "Ok Mama" leaving  his lips. Below, you can see how successful I've been in this department-Yes, that is Mama's bed.  It's a real Calamity.

In Continuum

Let's talk Fireflies-why?  Because I finished my first jar of "Faux Fireflies!"

After a day of assembling the ingredient list of the said fireflies, jars, paint, greens, etc., I actually sat down and did the project.  I know, I can't believe it myself.  Hell hath frozen over.  It did start out a little sketchy, with the glow in the dark paint.  As I was applying the paint, I noticed it didn't go on smooth like regular paint and after examining the bottle more closely, I noticed it said "GEL" which is not what Martha Junior had instructed to get.  Needless to say, I had to improvise.  While it still looks darn cool in a dark closet, it's probably not the perfect glow like I'm quite sure Martha Junior has.  Also, at 11:30pm last evening, I couldn't find that stinking glue gun that sits around useless most of the time.  I had to settle for Mighty Mend It.  Detour here please...

Mighty Mend It.  Right now you're asking yourself  "Where have I heard that before?"  Well my friends, think Billy Mays, (See Here) the infomercial KING as far as I'm concerned.  His untimely death rocked my world, for I believed in all things Billy.  Of course, that was BEFORE I tried Mighty Mend It.  The stuff stinks, so I'm expecting my flies to drop like...well, flies.  Having used it to glue 100 buttons on my Little Chick's shirt for the 100th day of 1st grade last year, I can tell you it has a bad track record in my attempted projects.  Granted the buttons went on a shirt which, if I was Martha Junior, I would have sewn those buttons on by hand, with time to spare to bake a cake in the shape of the number "100."  But we're talking about me, who can barely get out of bed much less BAKE a cake, and I won't even touch on theme cakes in the shape of 3 digit numbers.  Anyway, the Mighty Mend It is and was a desperate measure, one that will be a project in it's self. I'm giving it and those flies a good 3 days.

Now the jar.  If you recall, I had an exciting time at the Goodwill store looking for and getting the perfect jar, along with a few articles of clothing.  And while I love the looks of this jar, it isn't (again) what Martha Junior recommended so alas, it's a little flat in the "wow" factor.  There wasn't enough room for all the blades of grass that I wanted to add, and it got a little sketchy pushing those blades of grass through the narrow neck with the glued-on flies.  At one point, I was certain they were going to pop off under the pressure, and you already know why.  I hope to start another jar, using the approved and probably better looking jar.  Just as soon as I have the jar.  Martha Junior just happened to have an old jar sitting around, where I, my friends, only reserve THAT distinction for dirty laundry and dishes.  It's a real Calamity.