Category Archives: Crafting

Little girl goodness…

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I watch a friend’s daughter overnight every other Wednesday… and didn’t know how the dynamic would go at first, and went into it with the hopes it would all be just peachy. Her mom is a douche bag, and I’m determined to go full tilt girlie fabulous while she’s with us. I knew my own daughter would be a little jealous…

I have a dozen “dads” because my bio dad is  worthless. I look at the time I spent with the little sweetheart as doing my part. She’s adorable, and SO funny- but she needs a mommy for sure, and that’s my forte. We curl our hair and paint our nails… turn the music on and dance in the living room, it’s a full scale estrogen fest, complete with Miss Everything.

Sometimes we have a fashion show- and we have a sewing project we’re working on for Christmas. It’s just time spent with little girls, being a really great example and teaching them things so few women know anymore. I feel pretty passionately about it, because I love to knit, can, garden, sew… getting in touch with my Mormon roots, if you will. :) . I’m all about teaching the little girls in my life, and the boys too for that matter. My son knows how to sew, and some of the most amazing men I know, knit.

My grandmother taught me to crochet, and I taught myself how to knit. My Mama and my Aunt taught me to sew and we still love to sit and sew together. It’s when we really connect- and when we really talk about what matters.

So sitting with this tiny little girl who is on girly overload, I’m sure- is just what the doctor ordered. She’s adorable- and her Mom is really missing out… but if I have anything to say about it- she wont miss out on a thing in her little life.

She recites her words from a Veterans day presentation she had at school that day. In front of the whole school and the parents. 300-400 people… she smiles and stands up straight and rattles off a monologue about Francis Scott Key. So sweet and so brave… I was so proud I cried and she started laughing at me.

T- Don’t cry!

J- I am so proud of you, that’s so brave and you had so much to remember!

T- In one day!

More tears… this little darling will be one of the best women life can create. She may not have a mom, but she’s not lacking. She’s adored by her Dad & Uncle, her Grandparents and anyone else who comes in contact with her. She’s a spitfire. She’s hysterically funny… she actually recited her part at our family dinner and when someone suggested she rap it- she did. 10 adults in tears over this fierce little lady.

Tucking two little girls in bed with bedtime stores about Belinda the Ballerina and her big feet. Sweet mommy bliss with more to follow later. In love with my two days off to play with my little angel- and a borrowed angel too.

This is what we’re making for Christmas:

You can find the directions here.

Looks simple enough- and it will be nice busy work for them to cut all those circles out…

For as much as I complain about the cold, I do love the fall… because the cold does nothing but supply me with the perfect excuse to curl up like a kitten on the couch, surrounded by yarn, needles, fabric, thread, etc…

Best of all? Two giggling little girls cutting out flower petals…curled up on the couch next to me, side by side. Cozy domestic happiness. ♥

♥

Thankful Thursday

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Whiskey Wednesday claims another victim. Ugh. Miss Perfection, Mr. Bestie, SuperDad & Miss Fearless… Christ on the cross we know how to celebrate.

What are we celebrating?

Um.

Life? Not being in unhappy relationships? Paying the water bill? Sure… that works. Let’s celebrate all of that… with a few bruised apples… a few shots of Rumplemints… a little Tanqueray and a cozy cab ride home.

Sleeping in… tangled in dreams and sheets, with one leg exposed and frozen. Swimming in pillows and fighting to block out my damned Yorkie Tucker Max, who happens to be barking at me from the laundry room. Begging and pleading to fall back into the dream that’s haunted me all week.

Celibacy leaves me with one option for sex. Sleep more, and pray for sex dreams. So far so good… I’ve never been so blown away by a dream and I’m sleepy sweet and craving.

However… the fucking dog ruined it this morning and I rolled over on to my stomach, kicked the blankets off and grabbed my phone… to send an email to He-Who’s-Inspired-Me-To-Raise-My-Standards.

Grinning at the cloudy grey day and relishing the bike ride down town to pick up my car. In love with my quiet life. Enjoying the simplicity of my day and grateful for a day off.

It’s fashion-free day. I threw on a pair of my favorite sweats, a tank top and sweatshirt and headed out to face the day… only to have a bouquet of oriental lilies fall from the door when I opened it.

???

I love them, they’re my favorite. Casablanca lilies. They smell like heaven. No card. Hmph. I only like surprises if I know who’s intending to surprise me.

Flowers are always appreciated… but they always come with a certain intention. These are not friend flowers. These are “I like you” flowers.

Sweet. They smell amazing and I love surprises. Wow, flowers. <grin>

I turn Pandora on and tuck my phone in my bra. Music and an early morning bike ride, what a perfect start to a day off that is hardly going to be one. The leaves are changing. It’s cool and beautiful and you can smell wood smoke in the air. I love Fall. It makes me smile from the inside out. It’s knitting season, time to sew… and the best part?

HALLOWEEN!!! My favorite holiday, hands down…. and I’m a holiday junkie. My costume should be in the mail today. How exciting :)

I picked up the car and went directly to the store to get the grocery shopping done. Wandering in slowly, I go straight to the Starbucks in the front of the store. One Venti Salted Caramel Mocha… it’s like a liquid orgasm, seriously… run, don’t walk. Trade your soul for one if you have to, it’s that good.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and starts to play Lady Gaga’s “You and I”….as I’m thanking God for Starbucks and whoever thought to combine sea salt, caramel, chocolate AND coffee. Ooooh. Email. From him, complete with a song to confirm it.

“You taste like whiskey when you kiss me oh
I’d give anything again to be your baby doll
This time I’m not leaving without you”

OH Happy day… I’ve got mail… of my favorite varieTy. Which does nothing but drive my grocery bill through the roof. Ohhhh how I grocery shop when inspired… Lord have mercy. I’m making pumpkin roll, french onion soup, prosciutto and fontina wrapped grilled prawns. This man speaks my language and lights me up from the inside, at the same time. It’s a good thing he’s too far away to tempt with food because I’d be sewing new dresses and buying aprons at record speed. God bless the man who loves the domesticated princess, he shall know true happiness.

I get home and sink into a day of cleaning the house. Apparently I’m the only one that does and it’s beginning to get on my nerves. How does the whole shared housekeeping thing work with a roommate? I have to have it clean on my day off, I can’t stand dirty floors and the dishes are piling up in both sinks. Apparently I’m the only one who knows how to take out the trash, the bathroom needs to be cleaned…. and there’s dog hair on the sink. Gross. I don’t mind cleaning as much as I mind filth, though it’s the last thing I want to do on my day off every week. Time for everyone in the house to get a chore list, I’ve officially fucking had it.

Silky soft clean sheets and freshly shaven legs. New polish on my toenails and brand new squishy soft socks from my daughter. None of those things want to mix with dog hair and dirt. So I’m a little annoyed, but getting it done nonetheless. My mystery flowers are keeping me company in the kitchen and the pumpkin seeds are starting to smell amazing while they crackle and pop in the oven. Deeeelish.

I hear the mailman and run out to the mailbox. IT’S HERE!!!!!!!!!! My little white bunny dress. :)

Halloween is the one day a year you can absolutely get away with breaking out your skimpiest, sluttiest stuff in the closet. Better yet? Buy something even worse than last year. I found the best ears a year ago… and a dress last week, and it honestly looks like a size 5.

I am not a size 5. Nor have I ever been.

I have 36 DD boobs and this dress was sewn with the Itty Bitty Titty Nation in mind. It feels like a satin tourniquet.

My first inclination is to break out my little black book for a little gratuitous praise. This dress is giving me serious pause. I’m going to have to live a completely carb free life from here to Halloween… oh and there goes beer and steak too.

The things I sacrifice to be tramptastic.

I put it on again and thought my chest was going to cave in from the pressure, grabbed my sewing shears and cut a slit down the front…

Ah. Oxygen.

You can damn near read the washing instruction tag on my panties and I feel naked. This thing needs help. I cannot go out like this. Not without a fifth of Goose and a death wish.

Which is when the power man knocks on the door, and as I reach for the door knob I hear rrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip…. and my one inch slit has grown to more like 3… and he’s vacillating between white and red. He can’t say anything. He mumbles something about the meter and walks away and I look at my reflection in the door.

Holy Jesus, Mary & Joseph.

Bunnies were meant to be soft, sweet and fluffy… not half naked with panty line and boobs a-plenty.

Good Lord… it’s high time for 2 or 3 slips and some fake fur to glue on. This thing is straight up pornographic.

But hey….It is Halloween… Tis the season…

Can It

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Sparkly pink nailed goodness is great for canning, oddly enough!

These acrylic wonders work miracles when it comes to blanching and peeling peaches.

Domesticity makes me inches off the ground happy, so the peach juice running down my arms and dripping off my elbows only makes me smile bigger.

The smell of jam boiling slowly on the stove, my favorite cherry print apron and hot canning jars in the dishwasher?

I’m in heaven. Sweet domestic bliss.

Canning is right up there with knitting. You start with the raw tools and it’s up to you what you put into it. The world is your oyster and you can have, be & do anything you wish.

Getting back to basics makes you value your skill base. It reminds you how capable you are.

Even if you fuck it up.

I had an entire batch of huckleberry jam fail last year…. so I changed the labels to say “Dessert Sauce”. Easy… and everybody loved it.

Because the reason I can and the reason I garden? Is to love the people who treasure me with the gifts I can make them from my heart. Simple homemade gifts of love.

Slicing vanilla beans in half and smiling at the tiny seeds bubbling in and around the soft sweet peaches I diced in cubes.

Foodie porn, in my kitchen, in heels even.

Baking, canning and smiling it all better.

One jar at a time.

Bad Habits

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We all have a few habits we’d love to break. Or at least hypothetically we would like to stop being chained to the same torturous pattern.

I have several. <shocker> Some of them less serious than the others.

I hate wet rags in the kitchen sink. Hate them. I don’t like how they smell, I don’t like to touch them and so I avoid them, or throw them in the laundry room. It’s a horrible habit because unless you wash them right away? You can’t imagine the smell. Uck. Nasty…. and if I avoided touching it in the sink, you can imagine how excited I am to deal with it after a week on the laundry room floor. Gross.

I smoke cigarettes occasionally. Two drinks and nothing sounds better than a Marlboro Light. Ugh. I hate the way they taste, I hate the way they make me feel… and yet… I kinda sorta…. love smoking. Nasty disgusting cancerous habit. All mine. Blech.

I tend to bite off more than I can chew. Ok I always bite off more than I can chew. Part of knowing how to do a lot of things with a fair amount of skill, transforms you into a bit of an arrogant asshole, willing to rise to any challenge. Ceramic tile? Sure, no problem…. how hard can it be?!? Laminate flooring? I can totally do that. An acre of vegetables? Not so much. I’m facing the beginning of gardening season and I couldn’t care less. I’m already juggling a ton of things, and to add watering starts, heating the greenhouse, etc…. is just more than I can imagine. I’ll still do it, because I’m a stubborn pain in the ass, but it’s going to be grueling. The lengths I go to for heirloom tomatoes…. sheesh.

I’m a yarn hoarder. Seriously. I could insulate the walls of my house with yarn. You would think that would stop me from buying more…. but no. I’m looking for something soft & black as I type. That whole minimalistic existence is not for us crafty girls. My sewing machine, knitting needles and yarn are a current fixture in every room of the house. If I’m not knitting? I’m not smiling. It’s a wonder cure so I can hardly call it a bad habit… but every hoarder can justify his/her addiction.

I adore men who disregard me. It’s terrible. It’s painful. It sucks…. and yet…. I venture on, still waiting by the phone for their king to call me. Ever the obedient little doormat…. and really fucking tired of it. If there were ever a bad habit to kick? It’s this one.

So how? How do you give up your vices…your habits… the collective bane of your existence and that which makes you happy?

I don’t. I’m not a huge success when it comes to breaking bad habits. I’ve quit smoking plenty of times, but I’d venture to say that anything you have to quit several times can hardly be called a victory. The yarn, the Yarden… and my Shark. Three things that make me really happy and three habits that are definitely proving difficult to break.

Who am I fooling….

I’m no quitter.

:)

Sweet and Mortifying.

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I’m in quite the mood. Pissy and hell bent to share it with the gigantic pain in my ass that is NOT FUCKING GETTING IT. Ugh.

My poor mother listened to me rant and rave for an hour this morning. (Sorry mom)

I’ve been slaving away over a penis all day and it’s only resulted in me being dirty, sticky and unsatisfied.

… wait a minute… isn’t that always the result?

The penis cake I made is so big I can’t even fathom having to take it in to the bar tonight for them to put it in the cooler. It’s huge. The modeling chocolate I made will NOT set and I’m sticky from my fingertips to my elbows. In fact… my forearms are stuck to my desk right now. Lovely.

I’m ashamed to admit I could not channel a penis in my mind completely and I’m short a nude model… So I called my mom.

J- Hey mom, is that groove thingy on the top or the bottom?

M- The hole’s on the end of the head.

J- Yeah I know where the hole is, it’s that… you know… that groovy thing on the head of it.

For the record, my mother and I have an open dialogue. She knows more about my life and what I’ve done/am doing than anyone else. I can ask her and talk to her, about anything. It’s taken us years to get here, and I’m not afraid to shock her a little.

J- You know, that little ridge thing, which curves under, then ideally flares back out again? Know what I mean? Then above that, is a little, I don’t know… trench?

M- OHHH the foldy thing. Yeah! Top. For sure. Can’t you call so & so and ask him to come model for you? He’d love that.

J- No. I can’t. Thanks though. Sheesh. Ok then it’s on the bottom where it sort of angles in, right?

M- Yep. Jeez, you’re getting awfully technical about this.

J- My penis has to be better than the other penis’s, sorry. I’d love to say this is a birthday gift, but it’s my ego at work. My modeling chocolate sucks though.

M- Just frost it, don’t worry about that.

J- No. I just have to get it done before the kids get home. They would die if they saw this. My roommate was shocked.

M- Hang up and send me a picture.

I stand back and look at it. OMG. I dirty iced it this morning with buttercream, and it’s the biggest whitest cock you’ve ever seen. I screwed a dowel to a piece of wood and stacked the layers on the dowel, so my cock is permanently hard. It’s chocolate on the inside and white chocolate on the outside. The perfect cock. Chocolate at heart ♥

Two perfectly shaved balls, because in my world, man-scaping is not optional. Shave it or don’t ask me to go near it. I shave, and he has to too.

Baking in my black cocktail dress, trying to be comfortable in it… and failing. Tits on toast always makes me awkward and uncomfortable… but my new tattoo looks lovely in my new dress… so I’m determined to run with it.

Which is when someone knocks… OMG. No.

My neighbor lady, and there on the counter in full view is the giant cock-cake.

Me in a cocktail dress, heels & an apron, and her mouth is literally hanging open.

J- HI! 50th birthday party, sorry. I know it’s obscene.

D- It’s AMAZING. Do you sell them? Would you make another one? I want one!

J- No, it’s a gift for my mom’s friend. I’d loan you my pan though, it’s just stacked rounds.

D- You did a great job sculpting the head. <wink>

Great… my neighbor lady is impressed by my knowledge of the penis. In all reality I googled penis and looked at internet porn until it was perfect.

I called my mom back when she left.

J- I am NOT carrying this thing in. I baked it, you’re claiming it.

M- Ok. I love you- I’m so proud of you.

J- I don’t think this is the moment for that statement, but thank you.

It’s the biggest penis cake I’ve ever seen.

Hell it’s the biggest penis I’ve ever seen, and I made it… so it’s yummy :)

Happy 50th Birthday Becky!