Monday, September 26, 2011


I've been on a crafting rampage this month.  In my perfect dream life I would effortlessly make everyone Christmas gifts, every year.  Starting early was important for the reason that every year I make such a decision, I end up rushing around last minute making super lame crap that no one would actually want or use.  It's not as charming to make lame crafts and pawn them off as gifts when you're twenty-six.  When I was 5, it was totally my shtick.  It worked well for me; granted in my own head they were perfect!  My Aunt Patti actually kept on her kitchen counter (for years) a white-cotton-ball-haired bottle woman in a blue "dress" and "apron" that I had made her.  If you could ever see it you would find the air quotes most appropriate.  I love my Aunt for many, many reasons, but that is definitely up there on the list.
I'm pretty proud of how my first batch EVER of salt dough ornaments turned out.  Though I tried dying the dough with food coloring (which made for sweet pastel colors once baked), I ended up painting them with watercolors which took beautifully to the baked dough.  It made for soft yet bright colors.

Thursday, September 8, 2011


About a year back I had a realization:  I don't miss anyone.  At that point I'd already been single for quite some time after years of relationships.  It hit me that I don't long for anyone.  There is no one my heart aches for.  I can remember the feeling; I've certainly felt it on more than one occasion.  Since returning home from seeing friends up north, though, my heart ever-so-slightly aches.  It's quiet, hushed, almost imperceptible- but my heart knows better.  Oh sweet desire! 

Wednesday, September 7, 2011


Today was my first-ever attempt at machine dyeing.  It went well, certainly easier than I imagined.  There was a pair of black denim that was in serious need of revival, as well as a plain white skirt I recently made from a vintage slip I no longer wear.  The denim came out solid.  The skirt didn't take quite as well, though it did dye evenly so it looks great and wearable none-the-less.  I used a chocolate brown package of RIT to dye it, but the color came out more of a light rosy/neutral brown.  It still looks absolutely darling.  I think it came out that color because of the fabric content- I don't think it's 100% cotton, maybe a rayon or nylon blend?  Regardless, I did both loads back to back which made for a colorful washing machine.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Art School Girl

A gift!  I love, love, love snail mail- especially when it brings such precious thoughtfulness!  And, of course, smiles and girly squeals of delight.
From Amy Rowan of Art School Girl

Sunday, September 4, 2011


antique clippers
So my latest project is to clear all the antiques from my mom's attic.  Clear, as in sell, get rid of, redistribute in some way.  My concerns with this are as follows:  1) I haven't actually seen any of this stuff yet and I wish not to get attached to any family heirlooms (Which I was perfectly fine not knowing existed and therefore not having to find storage for, for god knows how long) and 2) Ebay.  I'm barely comfortable with Etsy- and by comfortable I mean an internal burning fear.  My mom swears it's the easiest, so come Tuesday I will attempt The Ebay.  As with Etsy, I have this likability complex:  if I suck at this because I don't know what I'm doing I worry I might be seen as an asshole and get a bad grade.  Neurotic much?  Sometimes.  Maybe. 

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Remember That One Time When the World Was Ending?

The day the world was supposed to end I began alone, dramatically hung over in my best friends apartment.  I was so sick and hadn't left the house, mindlessly watching house-flipping shows which were stressing me out even more as I watched beautiful original kitchens being ripped from (unappreciated) pristine vintage homes.  Oh, my heart.  My stomach couldn't take it either and there was a battle between my stomach, Fungini (that's pasta, I swear), sleep, and the bathroom floor.  I was in such a haze and I remember there being an actual concern that the world had really ended.  I couldn't get a hold of my friend Jason (gay and Agnostic) and wondered if he had been taken in the Rapture.  Who's to say he hadn't?  Eventually there was outside correspondence with Leslie and her girlfriend and I felt some relief, if only for the fact that the day would not end up like the beginning of 28 Days Later with me wandering mindlessly through an empty city.  The girls rescued me from the abyss of the pull-out sofa and took me to breakfast where we all sat fuzzily and chugged very strong black coffee.  The previous night had been full and interesting for them, too.  Perhaps we were all getting our last hurrahs out just in case the world did happen to end.  We decided that the night before had the same energy as when it's a full moon and Santa Ana wind weather- sheer madness ensues.  We then continued on to more coffee down the street.  That's where I found this.  Still painfully hungover, it managed to make me happy and give me a light chuckle.  And I just remembered why we were all so incredibly hung over:  it was Pride weekend.  Hello too-much-of-everything-crazy-party-time-right-down-the-street.  Aha, yes, I remember now.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Grandma Ann

This woman raised me.  I was the last one she had in her care, after years of kids and grandkids and any relative or loved one that needed caring for.  She was fiery, as you'd expect from a redhead, and she was stubborn as all hell.  We would have some stubborn show-downs, if you can imagine my 6-year-old self standing pensive and determined, hands on hips and topless.  But, of course, we also loved each other deeply.  She was my mother.  She took the role proudly and lovingly and wholeheartedly, while still keeping respect for what place my actual Mom had in my life.  She taught me how to dress.  She taught me to bake and sew.  She always used her nice teacups and saucers for company, even with unexpected guests just stopping by for a chat.  She did holidays like no one's business and made us dinner from scratch almost every single night.  With her incredible temper she also had an endless amount of patience.  She was the epitome of a strong, independent woman in the role of homemaker.  She ran that ish.  She ran that ish right.  I have a few pictures of her and, lucky for me, most of them are candid shots of her smiling or laughing.  She was sensitive and proud of her home and family.  The house was always relatively clean, everyone well-fed, and she made it look like she loved doing it all.  She attended every single school assembly and played ragtime on the piano.  Basically, she was rad.  I refer to her often (in my thoughts at least) and I'm sure I idealize her since I was just barely a teenager when she passed.  Still, I wish to emulate her in her best qualities.  Even in her sensitivity, I suppose.