Fairy Wings!

A favorite friend was turning three.  We have zero moula budgeted for a three-year-old's birthday.

Dave Ramsey inspiration: no $= perspiration.

When Chicken Lu was 3, the Pransome Hince and I got her some phat fairy wings. 

After we laid down a hefty chunk of Fanny Mae's money, I started looking at construction of the wings.  Made of wire hangers and pantyhose.  I never feel worse than when I've spent money on something I TOTALLY could have made with stuff I throw out.  I'm just cheap like that.

Yes, I throw out wire hangers.  I'm crazy like Joan Crawford. "No more wire hangers!"  I think I said that to my husband once in a fit of rage...or maybe I'm just remembering the movie, but we do have a metal-free closet. 100% wood.

But I digress (per usual) (see? even my digressions have digressions).  I gathered up some stowaway hangers from the dry cleaner, some unused panty hose (not because I have so many, but because I only wear them when I'm in weddings...so I have two pair), some 11 year old acrylic paint which I used to make my Sketchers blue for my wedding day, pliers, a sourced picture of a blue morpho butterfly, electrical tape and some muscle, and got to work. Oh, yeah, and this tutorial.

Hmm.. See if we can get these together here... Honey!?!

See what I mean about the muscle?

So pretty...maybe a little big for a 3 year old, though!

Writer's Block

I wish I had a computer in the bathroom.

Historically, that's where all my good ideas hit.

Seriously, I've composed the most interesting blog posts while brushing my teeth (then promptly forgotten them all).  Some of my best facebook statusi have struck whilst washing my hair.  Out goes the man, in goes the ideas.  In grade school I once thought up on the toilet the very witty quip, "Make like the Red Sea and part" to say when in a crowded situation.  Hey. It made my friends laugh because we were all 11, and in private school.

So, next time I'm in the WC dancing nekkid to I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You and come up with something truly clever, I'm gonna run straight to my desk in the middle of my very window-ed kitchen and just type it out.  Neighbors be damned!

Till then, I'm going to bed.

Don't read this blog. I'm an idiot.

Hi Nobody!

I just joined pinterest and remembered my slapdashed Slapdashery blog.  Sorry.  That's what you get when Mrs. Artsy-starts-a-bunch-of-projects-but-never-finishes-them starts a blog about it.

I guess the joke's on you.  You should have known.

Here I am, and here I go!
Beeping Sleauty

Millenials

Being as my Pransome Hince and I are on the cusp of the Gen X/Millenial divide, we've never been quite sure as to where our generational loyalties should lie.

It's now becoming quite obvious, as we've cancelled our landline and don't miss it, scour the internet for ideas on everything from how to construct a swing to what to make for dinner, are more comfortable with e-mail than telephonic communication, and don't take in "the paper"(well, we DO get the Wall Street Journal, but it's delivered at the bottom of the hill, and thus, when we actually want to read the paper--on Saturday--, we make the treck down the steps and gather an armful of soggy back issues plus the one we actually want).

We had a group of late 30's-50's people over to dinner, and we were struck when they tried to get into contact with us using our old home phone number (we regretted to say we'd cancelled it) and asking us if we'd seen thus and such in the QCTimes (we apologized that we didn't subscribe).

I guess Millenials we be!