I think there is some rule about publishing anything in a blog before it is used in a contest, so I can't do so. But if you want to email me, I will happily share my choices.
Halloween was a win-lose. Syddie was an adorable little dinosaur who was so great during trick-or-treating. After we got home, though, the tummies of Mommy and Daddy went downhill. I was sick as a dog while dropping her off at Mimi's house. When Bob and I went out that night, we were back home within the hour. I was horribly sick at the Hideaway so we left. When we got home, we were both pukie and truckin to the bathroom all night. Sucked a buncha. So, we will have great memories of our little girl asking for seconds from almost every house we stopped at and of her singing "I like eating candy. It's what I do-do-dooooo-do-do" which she made up as we walked. And of her saying "Does this house have pumpkins?" after she realized that only the jack-o-lantern adorned houses had candy. AND of her saying "Alright. You stay right here. I'll go get candy." when she wanted us to stay at the sidewalk. (which we couldn't because a group of 6-9 year olds were running and pushing in front of her - Syd is so unused to that she said "Hey stop running") And of her telling us in the car later that "It was so much fun trick and treating for Halloween candy." It might not have been the anniversary that we wanted, but it was a much better Halloween than we could have imagined.
Knitting is not as tough as you'd think when in a splint. Since it was my left hand, I could just hold the needle and do all the manuevering with my right. It still hurt after a few minutes, but I accomplished a bit.
Today is costume creation day. Circus Side Show was the theme, but Syddle wanted to be a dinosaur instead. Bob and I will stick with the theme even without our tiny Barker/Ringmaster. That is fine, she is happy with her green suit. It has padding around the bottom that gives her a pear shape that is adorable in its wrongness on my skinny little girlie. I hope she doesnt't change her mind since she destroyed the tag first thing. I know, I know. I was supposed to make the thing instead of buy it. Well, laziness and a tough German test kept me from trying a brand new pattern with very little free time. Chastise and berate, go ahead, I deserve it.
all i fucking needed was to nearly kill myself by falling. bobby even asked if i thought i needed an ambulance when it happened. must've looked bad and with all the screaming, must've sounded bad too.
After leaving class, I took the Bucshot to the car. It seemed to take forever. I am sure I could've walked there faster, but my prevailing laziness and the downpour talked me out of my athleticism. I was stuck at a redlight so long that I pulled out of the turn lane and into the straight. I was then greeted by several road closed signs while trying to get back to my original destination. I ended up driving across town (maybe I relaxed whilst driving?) and poked around in Office Depot. Crazy, but true, I love walking around in there. I am a paper and pen hoarder and the isles just screamed to me. I was a good economy minded girl. I walked out empty handed. The Dollar Tree beckoned, though. Syddie got the cutest apron and chef's hat set in Purple. She "cooked" for me after getting her "surprise". I got to betend (her word for pretend) to eat plastic corn and later she made the dog drink tea. It was the single cutest thing I had seen all day. That dog might be trouble (ALOT) but Syd loves her. I picked up a book of Non-fiction essays and I am already happy from flipping through the pages. I enjoy a good essayist who can wrap me up in words and tickle me with letters. (How cliche and geeky.) I miss writing as if it were an old date who left without taking his jacket. I smell his cologne on the collar each time I pick up the notebook I haven't used in months.
Later CVS provided another shopping excursion for diapers (cursed potty training) and a set of doggy steps. Roswell now has the ability to climb up on our tall bed. Getting down is tough, so she sits and whines for a lift. I was hoping that the steps were tall enough to help eliminate the ... well, elimination on the bed. She peed this morning, on the bed, because we hadn't awakened her in the middle of the night for a pee. Her bladder is only so big, of course, so I can't be too mad.
Tonight after my Sociology class I waded into the muck and mire that is my homework pile. I made a good dent. I am quite excited that I may be caught up (knock on wood, salt over my shoulder, rub an unlucky rabbit's foot) by fall break. How nice to think I may relax when I am supposed to!!!
Maybe I can craft a bit. I finished a scarf the other night during Silver Bullet (love that movie). Its just a simple bobbly thing that I might give someone as a thank you. I have tons of scarves for myself and after spending countless hours making them year before last, the novelty has worn off. I may give it to Kim. She is my German buddy (meaning buddy in German class not buddy who is German).
I long to write again the way I used to. I miss the balcony where I sat listening to crawling thick jazz seep out my windows. I used to roll a joint and have a glass of wine at 10 am if the mood struck me (and I had the day off). I would sit for minutes sometimes, hours at other times, and write. I was a genius then. I was Anias Nin writing melting erotica. I was Woolf and Kerouac and Cohen. I had something that I have since misplaced.
I loved my big closet in that huge apartment. I had a walk in room that had a window. Not so much a closet except for the bar to hang my clothes on. I had stuffed into the space a dresser. Big and brown with a mirror atop it. I had scarves draped across the edges of the mirror. I has feather boas and purses and shoes galore. I had dresses and clothes of the most odd styles hanging there. I was a star when I went into that small, rectangular room. It was jumbled like some backstage dressing room for some stage queen. Jewelry tossed here and there on the dresser top. I even called it the dressing room. I was something else then. My hallway smelled like mildew the way old buildings do. The backdoor led into a mudroom with big screened windows that let in the perfect amount of wind when it was raining. Some creative soul had painted the floor back there with every shade of spray paint made by Krylon. The kitchen wasn't huge, but big enough. The front door was red. Everyday coming in from work, I was greeted by a glossy red that enlivened that place. The shower was ancient, the tub a clawfoot cast iron, the back yard unkempt and weedy but mowed regularly. My bedroom was a refuge. My windows faced onto the balcony and during cool mornings I fell in love with the breeze that tiptoed through. High ceilings, wood floors, tall white walls begging for art. Incense and lipstick and memories of my lovelies that lived there before I did. I hope, when I am old and senile and memories escape me that I do not forget that old brick apartment building that made me feel welcome and loved and so very much like an artist.
My neighbors (not directly, but across from the condos in front of us) have quite the fight going. Over the past few weeks, we have heard at about 2 am a woman screaming unintelligible somethings in a "No, please" manner. Another night around 9 I heard a man shouting, then around 10 I heard "FREEZE POLICE". I didn't hang to check it out. I figure stray bullets happen and I have no interest in those things. Tonight I heard one yicky scream that kinda made me wonder. I don't want to get involved since I am so far away from the actual place. I can't even pinpoint THE apartment. I can only hope for the luck and pluck of strangers.
I have not been crafting. My solemn oath has fallen by the wayside. My apologies. I finished quite a few items and sold most to my pals months ago. I haven't undertaken the Etsy task yet. I have the account, but haven't posted anything yet. Nerves? Esteem? Lazy? Who knows. I miss my old crafting nights. Whether I was just knitting with a couple of girls or sewing away with Miss Jordan and my fancy new sewing apparatus, I was doing something. Sometimes I think I am doing nothing more than cleaning a mess that will be remade tomorrow, over and over.
I want to open the bakery NOW. I don't want to deal with school first. I don't want to wait years. I want it now. I can't have it now though. I feel like I'm stuck. I want to take off to culinary school, can't. I want to run away to stalk fantastic cake bakers who I love to watch on Food Network, can't...and also illegal. I want to marry Duff from Ace of Cakes, can't... kinda married already. I want to quit school and work in a little bakery in Jonesboro. I have only walked inside it once, but it smelled so good that I want to live there. I have no idea who owns it or anything about it except that smell. I can't wait to smell like cake all day. Someone asked if I would grow tired of cakes since it would be my job. How could that happen? Oh, the magic that I feel when I am crafting a dessert is amazing. I love to make people feel happy with food. It is the one thing that we all need and it is the most honest craft. Chocolate cake tells no lies. It is good. It is great. Or it is not. Honest and chocolate. Freakin awesome.
This was not a craft post. But it was a post by a crafter, so cut me some slack. I'll right myself eventually and climb back atop my crafting steed. And when I do, you will all question how on earth I do it. My fabulicity will astonish the masses.
Not sleeping much at night. Napping alot during the day, when I can.
School starts soon. Incoming stress and worry.
Soon, my friendlies, I'll post again.
These are two enormous pictures of the lil brown bear that I recently needle felted. He took hardly any time at all and barely put up a fuss. I was, however, wounded during battle by my own weapon. I poked my thumb with the barbed felting needle whilst looking up to be nosey instead of focusing on the furry face I was fiddling with.
At any rate, I love the little booger and have yet to allow him into the care of my little girl. She is just turning two Friday and, well, she might not appreciate the fine craftswomanship that Mommy put into this furry friend. I am trying to find an excuse to carry him everywhere with me and say loudly to all who'll listen, "Look what I made!" I have yet to find a good one.
I am quite happy that I have begun to craft again as it has been a long while since my last completed project. The purses that I finished last week turned out well and if I could ever find a great way to photo them I'll post. I must sleep, my lovelies, finals are around the corner and this History isn't going to learn itself. Loves to all.
I have also found that a large mini M&Ms container from the gas station is the best container to hold your felting needles. I put a small piece of styrofoam in the bottom to protect the needle points. I am carrying 20 needles with no problems. So cheap, so easy, so happy I am.