Posted in Uncategorized

Go Home DIY, You’re Drunk

Look, I love crafts and such as much as anybody else.  I paint, I knit, I sew, I come up with hair brained ideas and then make my husband put the pieces together (or clean up the mess).  There are at least a dozen websites dedicated to the fuckery of Pinterest wins, fails and simple shakes of the head.  I won’t become one of those blogs, because I know that somewhere, you are drunk with your girlfriends, making fun of these crazy crafts.  Hell, I’ve done it.  As a matter of fact, I have a list that was put together with two of my girlfriends after we polished off a couple bottles of wine.  Which reminds me, I hope you like your chicken feet wreath this year Baxter!

This morning I logged on to Pinterest (this has become a disgusting habit of mine by the way) but it makes me laugh when I need it most.  Sometimes, after you’ve been nearly side swiped by two semi trucks on the way to work, you just need that laugh.  I clicked on the “popular” tab and was immediately bombarded with cute DIY Halloween crafts.  STOP.  Halloween is suppose to be scary. Not cute. No. No cute Halloween shit.  I kept scrolling, scrolling and then, I see it.  

The mother load of all DIY crafts you guys.

Behold: 

HOW TO TURN AN OLD TIRE INTO AN OTTOMAN:

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Go on and take a minute to drink in that photo.   Go on, I’ll wait. 

*whistles Jeopardy tune*

Done? Good.

WHO THE HELL HAS TIME TO DO THIS?

No, wait.

WHO HAS THE PATIENCE DO TO THIS?!

And yes, that requires all caps.  I can’t even.  I tried looking for the original craft on the website listed (DumpaDay), but couldn’t locate it.  I’m going to check out their site because I just saw a coffee cozy made from an old sock.  Sweet.

So after looking at the photos I made a few observations:

1. That’s going to be a really uncomfortable ottoman.

2. Look at how small that bottle of glue is! How many bottles do you think it takes to cover a tire?

3. Where’s the other photo that shows you how to get that sweet pattern in the center?

4. Seeing that tires are often hollow(ish) in the center, did they put a piece of plywood in the center?

5. I want to know the recipe for those shiny hardwood floors.

Do you think this is something that will show up on Buzzfeed anytime soon? Maybe Martha would be willing to give it a shot.  Or maybe, I could do it myself, document the process (tears and screaming fits included) and then watch in silent horror as the dog chews off all the rope after completion. Because let’s get real here, if it’s something that looks chewable and delicious, the dog will be on it like your sister dry humping a One Direction poster.

Now, go forth and create people!

 

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Posted in Life

However Old You Are- THAT Is The New 30

Currently listening to: The Polyphonic Spree

Earlier this morning, I was trolling Pinterest.  I’ve sort of found myself sucked back into it- if only to look at quotes and humor.  Okay, recipes too.  Alright…  fashion that involves leggings and long sweaters also.  Say what you want, I’ll never let go of my leggings as pants.  Suck it.

Have you noticed though, how Someecards have pretty much taken over the internet?  When will Facebook become: Ecards with Friends?  I’m guilty of laughing and sharing too, don’t get me wrong.  I also started wondering where the hell they get all of those greetings/sayings/smart ass remarks.  Granted, there are a few that I’m certain are truth.  The others make me roll my eyes so hard I can see my brain.

After a few minutes, I switched over to Facebook and then it struck me: Why am I even on Facebook?  “To keep in touch!”  Right, right.  Oh and to share pictures and to let my folks know that I’m alive when I go on a road trip.  Actually, the friends I’m close with on one social media site, I’m also close with in real life. It is nice, to say, “Hey I’m going to be in town on such and such date, let’s hang out.”  And then we do! Or rather, I RSVP for an event, only it’s on the wrong weekend because I’m usually a week ahead of myself (sorry Kristy).  For the most part though, I keep in touch with everyone I grew up with.  I like that about life.

On my way into work today, I thought about quitting Facebook.  Why not? I’m on Instagram.  I have this blog.  What more could I need? What more do I need to share? What more do you need to know about me?  Here’s a list of things:

1. I’m still scared of the dark

2. I don’t walk past windows at night, I scurry. Quickly.

3. I never sit with my back to a door.

4. I always sit with one leg under me.  This poses a problem at Christmas and those “Be Ladylike” parties where I wear nice evening gowns and 6″ heels.  You can’t sit on your leg at those parties and the feelings I have, oh God.  Horrible.

5. In college, I tutored/wrote papers for a guy by the name of Dobber. Yes, like from the TV Show Coach.  Once he brought me hand picked flowers from the front of the library.  It was sweet.

6. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

7. I still leave bobbi pins laying all over the house/kitchen/bathroom/car/garage/patio.

8. I almost have the patience of Job.  So that means I would be like Job’s half sister after a pot of coffee type patience.

9. I wear house shoes.

10. I am very particular about my daily schedule.  Very particular.  If I am not within two minutes of what I think I should be doing at the said scheduled time, I start to panic and get bitchy.  I don’t tolerate people who are late.  I am never late.  EVER.

Also, last night I broke out the canvas and finished up my painting! Well, for the most part.  I’m going to do a little more blending tonight if I can.  Check this shit out though:

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Murph was fascinated by the paints. It was cute.  I love him.  Isn’t that the greatest thing about pets? They just get you.  You can have a shitty day and you can tell them about it.  Sure, they may be silently judging your poor choices in fashion, but damn it, they love you.  It’s rainy days like today when all I want to do is lay on the couch with Murph, watching Law & Order reruns on TNT.

Anyhow-

I’m going to get back to looking at Someecards with friends on Pinterest.

You should too.

Posted in Uncategorized

The Honeycomb & The Feast

My blood is a beehive
Waiting to be smoked out
So that my hard work and honeycomb
Can be yanked from their nestled chamber

My blood half running through his body as well
may also be a beehive
Yet I think at this age,
his anger pools deeper than a honeycomb does

We were both stranded
We were both startled

Neatly, I stack my sacrifices in wooden drawers
in a hand me down dresser
in a quaint tiny room.

I cannot always be the victor
You cannot always be the enemy

Soon enough the tables will turn,
like a lazy Susan on a Thanksgiving table

Cluttered and messy
Loud and loved
Full and sick

As you reach for the honey,
my blood begins to curdle
and it is then
that a stalemate is formed

Your pawn, no Queen
My Queen, lost

The honey, devoured.

Posted in Uncategorized

Le bel aujourd’hui!

Saturday afternoon, I decided it was time to break out the canvas and start on that painting I kept talking about.  I pulled out my buckets and pails of paint and brushes, staring at them for a few minutes. I had to decide on where I would paint.  Glancing out of the back kitchen window, I decided I’d set up shop on the deck.  The early afternoon was warm, but not sweltering.  Luckily for me, it was shaded by all the trees in our yard and there was even a breeze.

How lucky could a girl get?

Once I was set up, I sat down cross legged and mumbled, “Here goes nothing…”

As I’ve said before, when I paint, it has to come from a place that I keep tucked away.  Like a tooth under a pillow, but deeper still. So perhaps a pea under the mattress or a shoebox under a floor board.  I cannot paint when I’m extremely happy nor can I write (or so I thought).  Yet, the Universe had put some plans in motion for me and I found that the longer I sat out there on the deck listening to the backyard talk, the happier I became.  The lighter my brush, the lighter my mood.

I painted for nearly four hours.

Of course, I had to get up and stretch my limbs.  One can only sit cross legged, hunched over a canvas for so long.  Once I stood up and stretched, I looked down at the painting.  Smiled.  It looks good, it looks like me.  Feels like me.  Little dashes and dots, multi colored and swirling.  Reaching down, I grabbed the canvas and pulled it upright against the house.  I took a step back and whispered a small thanks.

I had forgotten how relaxed I feel when I paint. How I lose track of time and become so engrossed with what I’m doing. While standing there, it felt as if an ugly piece of myself had been washed away.  That’s the only way I can explain it- the ugly spot was gone and I felt right.

The painting is still not finished.  I suppose I’m waiting for another “perfect” day to happen so I can sit out on the back deck again and lose myself.  Until then, it’s propped up on the fireplace like a bum leg.  I hope that when I drop it off for the art show, someone will see the tiny bit of healing in the brush strokes.  That if you look closely in the center, you can see a flower unfolding and the day was beautiful.