Got Rhinestones?

Well, what can I say? I thought this morning I'd dig out a pair of white garden gloves and glue some rhinestones on one of them and wear it around today, just to see what kind of response I would get.



Much like the time I carried Grey Poupon Mustard on my dashboard. I got lots of laughs out of that trick!



But then I saw that I'm a quart low on rhinestones and it was going to be too much effort, anyway. I've got better things to do with my time than rile up the public.



Not that they need riling! Good heavens it's like somebody famous has died or something!





If people make such a fuss over this has-been drugged out pedophile, imagine what kind of outcry there will be when Elvis dies!

Setting aside sarcasm for a moment, I do just want to say...that back in the day...there was nobody like Michael Jackson! We were all moths to that flame! At least, we were moths to the New Flame of MTV, and it was Michael's videos we were seeing! Off the Wall was a great album, but when Thriller came out, and there was Michael reclining on the cover in that white suit, our little girlie hormones sat up and took notice. This guy had gotten HANDSOME!

Must have been that nose job... So glad he knew enough to leave well enough alone and never did any plastic surgery after that first little nose refinement!

I even owned, for a brief period of time, a red leather Michael Jackson jacket.

But that was long ago. My rhinestone glove has been at the bottom of a landfill for at least 25 years, I'd say! So I won't be wearing it today.

Feel free to copy my idea, though! Wear the Glove! Moonwalk on Main street!

But I thought of it first!

Summer Fever

Everyone knows what spring fever feels like. You get antsy and you want to do a deep cleaning. You want to open the windows and get out the cushions to the lawn furniture. You want to take a trip somewhere, head for summer pastures, plant the garden. You want activity. You want growth.

But summer fever is something else entirely. You want to put your feet up, preferably on the front porch. You want your feet dangling in water, off the end of the pier or the side of the boat.

You want the laundry done already, snapping in the breeze on the clothesline out back. You want that cold glass of sticky lemonade or sweet tea and you want to rub it on your forehead or neck. You want the smell of sweet corn in the fields, almost ready for pickin'.

You want the mixture of Sun-In on your hair and coconut tanning oil to be your perfume.

You want lake water in your nose.

I've got summer fever, BAD, today. REAL BAD.

Good Deed, Indeed

Ah, Good deeds really do get rewarded!

Today as I was turning into the back alley where I park, I was flagged down by a debonair young gentleman with a skinny mustache. With hand motions of prayer and entreaty, he asked me if I perchance had any jumper cables.

I said I did but I'd have to get them out of my apartment. Now that I think about it, why do I keep my jumper cables in my apartment? They can't possibly do me any good there.

So I parked and got the cables and drove a few feet back down the alley to where his car was, and he hooked up the cables, started his car and Viola! A Good Deed was Done.

I felt good about it. He felt good about it. And that was that!

Except it wasn't. Because he said, "WAIT! I have something for you!" He reached into his back seat, rootled around a little bit and handed me a big armful of PRODUCTS.

Glorious, girly, fun-filled products! From his own line!




And they perfectly match the bag I was carrying. Now is that serendipitous, or what?

In the Midnight Hour She Cried 'More, More, More!"

With a Rebel Yell I'm on a bag-making bonanza!

This pattern is so easy and fun and it only takes a half yard of fabric. It's proving to be an excellent use of fabrics that I have no other use for.

I've been looking for little projects that I can make without buying any further fabric. It's really fun and stretches my boundaries a little bit to be confined to using what I already have. Especially when it's so much fun to run out and buy fabric at the least excuse!

I'm currently working my way through my summer looking/vintage looking fabric. But I can see this pattern working well for autumn and winter fabrics too.

Another project that I've had on my list for a while is another batch of napkins. I made the horrific and inconceivable discovery that I had No Pink Napkins! How I can hold up my Ponsonby Head after confessing that, I have no idea!

I had to remedy that at once, and so I did:


This was a very odd paisley that was just that wee tint towards being Pepto Bismal Pink, which is a color that his hard to use and not that pleasing to the eye. But as napkins, it lends itself well!


While I was at it, I decided a few minty green ones and paler pink napkins would be needed to add to the mix!

And thus I had a happy day! No crazy lunatics were drawn to my door and I was able to sew and sew and create to my heart's content!

And Then There Were Two

After yesterday, I decided it was perhaps best not to wander out today, so I started a project instead.

It's some kind of law of physics that a vacuum must be filled, and thus it is when I've cleared off a wee bit of space in which to work.

Using this basic pattern from http://mollychicken.blogs.com/my_weblog/ I modified it to be less of a giant capacious handbag that would store a three volume novel of more than revolting sentimentality, and more of a purse.

The first one took several hours, two hours of which were spent thinking.I love a messy creation station!

It looks more like an apron than a purse!

I always have to have twice the pockets that other people have.

Ta Da!

Mackie approves

******

I liked it so much I made a second one!

This one has shorter straps and is less wide.

Notice how Mackie has moved on over on TOP of the pink one.

Lip smackin' good!

Nut Magnet Collection Grows

I've added several new editions to my ever growing nut magnet collection. I know my readers are wondering why I don't take a picture of my fridge and show them to you.

It's because my fridge is full of magnetic notepads, the way God Intended, and also, these are not refrigerator nut magnets, these are the people kind.

Your tired, your poor, your unbalanced, unstable and unwashed all are drawn to me like bees to honey. I literally trip over them on my own doorstep.

Today as I headed out for some errands I saw that I had to have the insides of my windows washed. I could barely see out of the windshield in front or the sides.

Since I was on my way to the post office anyway I dug out a couple bucks to give to the guy who washes windows in the parking lot. He's a nice, decent man, obviously down on his luck, but willing to clean windows for change. He never bothers anybody or begs, but he is always there with newspapers and glass cleaner and a little stool he uses to stand on for the SUV's. I always have him clean my windows, he does a really good job.

So as not to make him feel he needed to hurry, I hung out in the lobby of the post office until I could see he was finished. It was here that I acquired my first Nut Magnet Experience of the Day.

A portly senior citizen man with slipping dentures approached me, already well into a conversation with me before I had made eye contact. He told me all about his pernicious anemia, his vitamin B12 shots, his high blood pressure pill, his daily diet of steak and baked potato, and how he would vomit every day; everything he ate he would upchuck. He told me how he liked to chew on women as well as steaks, and he gave me a leer. I almost asked him if he puked when he fed on women but refrained.

I thought I'd introduce him to the benefits of nutritional yeast but he didn't really have an input valve. Just output. He'd talk right over me no matter what I said. All the while I was trying to peer over his shoulder and around his fat gut to see the progress of my window washer.


It started back in the 70's" he said, apropos of nothing, "That was when they first got to our water. "


"Got to it, how, exactly?" I asked.

"You know, got to it. That was when they did it to all our water. Bio-engineered the DNA."

Now, I happen to know a bit about anemia because I was born with it and almost died from it several times, and I also happen to be a big fan of knowing stuff about DNA. After all, I've lost count of the times I've yelled at the back of a retreating boyfriend, "Get out and take your DNA with you!"


So I already knew that B12 shots are the treatment for pernicious anemia--although if he has a functioning terminal ileum, I don't know what all the fuss is about-- but I have not yet been acquainted with bio-engineered altered DNA in my water source. That just seems like a lot of work for Secret Ops to go to, and for what purpose? To make us a Stupider People?

I can hear them now in their secret labs in the underworld, "This dumbing down of America through Reality TV isn't working fast enough. People still show signs of resisting Twitter. Let's doctor up their Water!"


You know it's just not very likely. Wouldn't they doctor up our Starbucks instead?

I extricated myself from his presence by wishing him all the best of luck with his vomiting issues, and made a beeline for my car.

But Nut Magnet Adventure#2 had other plans. This man, bleary-eyed and somewhat shell-shocked in appearance, waylaid me with this stunner, "Ma'am! Please! That lady right there just farted on me!" I half looked at him and half at the retreating back of a well dressed woman whom, to my quick assessment, did not look like the back of a woman who would take deadly aim and let one rip in public.

What was I supposed to do about it? Run after her and demand she give him is clean air back? Confront her with her intentions? Demand repercussions? Ask her if she'd considered Vitamin B12 shots and introduce her to Nut Magnet #1 who might vomit on her and thus complete the cycle of Karma that I just somehow got snagged into?

I did nothing, alas, except express my deep felt sorrow and compassion for his horrific experience, and high-tailed it out of there with my clean windows as fast as my foot could hit the gas pedal. (ha-ha. Get it? Gas pedal?)

My next stop was the 98 cent store, where, as I was rounding the corner into the food aisle. I ran smack dab into a guy who was shoving a bag of chips in his pants.

This was starting to seem like a day for social torture rather than the joyous gad-about that I had intended.

It was a freeze-in-place moment. I really didn't know what to do. I looked around as if I had done the guilty deed, and wondered if store detectives would be descending in droves. I knew I had mere moments to formulate some kind of response. What would it be? Would I scream, "THIEF!" or "Drop that Bag of Chips, you are surrounded!" ? Or would I look the other way and pretend I'd seen nothing? After all, this was the 98 cent store, where everything costs one dollar. What difference did that dollar make to the store if this obviously homeless man was driven by hunger to steal his food?

Without even thinking I said, "I'll buy that for you, and anything else you want to eat."

But he didn't hear me. He was already moving fast and out the door, and I'll never know if my words had time to register before he was gone.

This morning as I left the house, a friend had told me I looked especially nice today, and that in my new pink blouse I was sure to attract an eligible man.