She's Crafty

About a year ago, my mother gave me a list of collage exercises from a collage class she took. I was fascinated by all the different techniques and ways to get an idea across, but I never sat down to actually create anything. Mostly I just plundered magazines for materials for "possibilities". On my recent trip to my grandfather's house for a week in May, I decided to take along craft scissors, two types of glue, double sided tape, permanent markers, and a sketch book (as seen above) along with the list of collage activities. I ripped through his wastebasket for magazines and scraps. The above collage was actually my 4th attempt at trying things on the list. The subject was to pick out pictures of your interests and put them together in a way that represented you. This is my finished product.

This is a picture of a "cheap" find... I went to Target to "just" buy kitty litter and I found a whole slew of other stuff, these beads being one of them. I am planning to to cut the beads off the string and re-string them as a new necklace and earrings. I got the "thrify crafting" idea from another blog that my mom sent me a while ago.

One more example of my talents before I sign off. I was on a pottery painting kick several years back and I painted these for my two kids named above. The white paint is actually a speckled glaze - the specks are multi-colored, like confetti. The dark is a rich cobalt blue (a big favorite of mine). The trick to getting the blue this dark and solid looking, is to paint three coats and they have to dry in between them (boring and time-consuming, but totally worth the effect). Don't do more or the overglaze while firing will crack and/or bubble unattractively!!

See you next week...

Be Vehwee Vehwee Quiet, I'm Hunting... Ants!

Last night at 10:45pm, I was on my hands and knees, butt in the air, armed with a flashlight, and my index finger primed for squishing. My new kitten thought his job was to leap in front of the flashlight beam and attack the carpet where I folded it up, the ants were following the edge of the carpet from the sliding glass door, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. I think they were coming in my house to escape the incredibly damp weather we've been having lately. The ants are the little tiny ones we used to call "sugar ants" when we were kids, so they are small enough to find a way in by the sliding glass door. I had this problem several years ago and my dad came over at that time with all his "ant preventatives" and ant-proofed the outside of my house. Well, he was kind enough to help me out again at 8:30 this morning to do the same. I went on an ant hunt first thing this morning after I fed the cats. I'm hoping I got the majority of them actually in the house by this time and the ant-proofing will stop the rest "dead" in their tracks. I will have to wait and see.

On a strange sidebar, I found out that the smell of squished ants makes my girl cat gag. How did I find out this tidbit? Well, the kitten was involved with the whole ant squishing process from the first (he was the one who alerted me to the procession of them) and it didn't affect him whatsoever. My older boy cat was interested in the activity in a detached sort of way, he wanted to sniff my finger and he wasn't affected. As I share sniffing priviledges, I gave my girl cat her opportunity to sniff and she lowered her head, backed her head quickly, blinked her eyes rapidly, and BLEEECH! Big gag with tongue out. Of course, I had to see if this would happen again, you know, the scientific process to test cause and effect. Lo and behold, the smell of squished ants (who give off a strong scent according to the Animal Planet) apparently can sent Doodle into a gagging tail-spin. As my co-worker would say, "Interesting, who knew?"

The picture of the kitten is not any of my cats, but I wanted to share some cat porn.

The Origin of SLAMBO

When I was in college in Ohio, I had a close male friend who was on the college wrestling team and also a member of my then boyfriend's Frat. He was a great person but not the sharpest tool in the shed. We had two classes together with the same free time between them. He needed to lift weights for wrestling (he was in the heavyweight range) and "required" a spotter. He asked me to spot him lifting between these two classes. As he was a very enthusiastic person, he encouraged me to lift with him. I did and bulked up pretty fast - my mom was shocked when I came home that summer, all the blousy-type shirts she wanted me to wear didn't fit anymore. He was suitably impressed and said that pretty soon I'd be big enough to take on Rambo and "they" would have to call me "Sambo". "No, wait...[long pause as I watched him think, it was a mostly physical process for him] I know, they'll call you SLAMBO!!" He was so proud of coming up with this nickname and I really liked it too, so I told him if and when I ever got a car, it would be my license plate.

SLAMBO sort of evolved into several different directions...

In my wild and crazy partying days (4-5 nights a week dancing my ass off and beveraging excessively, never going to bed before 3am and having to wake up to bicycle to work - no car at the time - at 6:45am), it became the drink that a bartender created for me at the local basement dancing/dive me and my friends frequented. I don't like the way beer or hard liquor tastes, so this bartender whipped up a special drink for me that tasted nothing like alcohol although the punch it packed was certainly alcoholic. It was a hurricane glass filled 2/3 of the way up with Vodka and White Rum, then the juice (if you can call it juice) from the Maraschino cherry jar 'til just before the edge, topped off with a splash of pineapple juice, and a handful of cherries thrown in for suggestive and tasty measures. The bartender asked me what I wanted to call the bright red drink. I decided on SLAMBOs because I had no car at the time and the name seemed to be extremely appropriate (not to mention the combo of red dye and alcohol was slammin').

Guys who just met me when we were "out and about" always assumed SLAMBO meant something sexual. Hah, as if!!! It didn't help I mostly wore red and black and Spandex (uni-suits and dresses) with big-ass wild hair at the time.

I DJed for a while at the bar/dive and called myself SLAMBO. No spinning of records, mostly juggling CDs in two players to make sure the songs didn't have a space between them and making sure the patrons danced their asses off and got thirsty enough to order multiple drinks.

And that is how SLAMBO came into being. Now it's my blog.

Venting with a Side of Humor

I must vent. As a home-owner with three indoor cats, I have opted to not own a dog and thus deal with the resulting outdoor gifts. Apparently someone in my cute quaint neighborhood or a dog-walking tourist from another neighborhood has decided my lawn is the perfect place to let their dogs deposit HUGE piles of crap. My family and friends know that I am the type of person to put that crap in a baggie, follow/track/stalk that person, and "deposit" it on their doorstep with a note explaining just where the crap came from, why it is now on their doorstep, and if I find more crap, I'm calling the cops to direct them to their house. When I mow, I chuck the dogpoop out on the street in the hopes that they (the impolite humans) will step in it on their next trip thus ensuring a Kharmic bitchslap.

Now to the humor part of this post... There is this word contest that I heard of through emails where changes are made to a word and humorous definitions are created as a result. My changes are indicated by the ( ). Here would be my submissions...

1) obsen(t)ity: a foul-mouthed ghost

2) secretar(t)y: a slutty receptionist or highly sexed receptionist

3) secretar(d)y: a chronically late receptionist

4) stationa(i)ry: airmail writing paper

5) (s)permissive: lenient towards having males take part in the procreation process

6) collage(r): insoluable fibrous protein (aka fake filler for lips) and beer with side effect that old people look young enough if you drink enough

7) psychiatr(u)st: a professional psychiatrist accessing a messed up rich kid’s trust fund

8) insinu(l)ation: the suggestion that extra padding is needed for the “less than bountiful” areas of the body (mostly referring to male enhancement and padded bra commercials)

9) (st)retrograde: 80’s pre-and-post-workout routine

10) ra(g)ification: consent to be teased or made fun of

11) comp(o)nion: a person who is close to you that tends to make you feel bad and you cry a lot as a result

12) (m)allergic: aversion to large shopping centers all under one roof

13) (s)parsimonious: taking being thrifty and frugal to a whole new level of meagerness

The Quintessential RedNeck Wedding Cake

Now this is my idea of a wedding cake. I would probably have all chocolate treats or at least chocolate dribbles on the Twinkies. Not to mention I'd like to have my imaginary wedding on Halloween Night and the reception would be a Costume Ball. If you ain't in costume, you ain't gettin' in.

The Inanimate Object Conspiracy

I am having one of those days. You know the kind where you wake up in the morning and your slippers are subtly moving away from your feet as you myopically try to find them to put them on. Then you end up tripping over the rug on your way to the bathroom because a little bump mysteriously appeared right before you walked over it. As you puncture one of the blisters that holds your birth control pills, the pill shoots out of your hand and does a frantic counterclockwise spiral around the sink headed for the drain. Sleepy reflexes mean you catch it the second before it goes down. Once caught, you spill water down the front of your PJs as you are trying to wash the delinquent pill down. Once in the shower, various items resist being used and are dropped repeatedly. Getting dressed is like wrestling with a limpet-like two year old who has gripped you around the ankles and twists your pant legs into a knot. Next moisturizer drops on your clothing, making a nice stain that cannot be removed in the amount of time needed to finish the morning routine before heading off to work. Spilling the milk and OJ is next on the agenda. As the spoon heads for your mouth, it misses, tipping cereal and milk on your just swabbed off clothes (or new clothes if you changed after the moisturizer incident). Getting your hair caught in the back of the hairdryer is an especially delightful high point of the morning, not to mention if you have longer hair and it gets tangle-wrapped in the round brush (you know, the one where all the bristles go all the way around). Applying mascara is a nightmare in of itself and it ends up on your eyelids and cheeks as well as causing your eyelashes to clump together in an attempt to resurrect the Tammy Faye Baker look. Finally, you think you can get out of the door safely and make your way to work. Not so… your purse/bag strap catches the doorknob effectively pulling you up short. As you disentangle yourself, your other bag slips down your shoulder onto you arm, knocking over the spray paint cans nicely balanced on the ledge (coz you can’t be bothered to transport them down the 8 steps to the basement) and the bug repellent. Your fingers brush against small dust bunnies as you try to put the cans back while shoving the bag back up your arm and over your non-existent shoulder. Once the door has been shut and locked (after dropping your keys in the puddle outside your door), your purse/bag strap catches the screen door latch, again pulling you up short. Swearing your way to the garage, you miss the garbage can because the bag of cat turds and pee clumps falls short thus ensuring you must bend over to pick it up, causing your bag to slip off your shoulder yet again and swipe you in the head. Successfully tossing the “bag o’ turds n’ pee” into the garbage; the door to the passenger side of your car does not open up all the way because the night before you parked in your garage unevenly. Jamming your bag, lunch, purse, and other items into the car onto the passenger seat, your car door doesn’t close all the way and you have to shut it at least 3 or 4 more times before it decides to stay closed. In your car, you start it, back out of the driveway, and before you can get on the main road, the OUTSIDE of your car windows fog up, FOG UP! (Because the inside of your car is colder than it is outside of your car – go figure.) You spend about five minutes with the defrost on super high, swishing windshield washer fluid repeatedly, and then a small unfoggy part appears which allows you to be a “peephole” driver. With the fog finally under control, the rest of the way to work is relatively uneventful, except for potholes that appear out of nowhere and having to stop at every stoplight. Once at work, your bag/purse/lunch refuse to leave the car and try to tangle their straps up with each other to make it next to impossible for you to get any of them over your shoulder. The car door needs to be slammed shut several times before latching to. Hands full, you can’t get the building door open so you use a foot and a hip, knocking bag off shoulder for the umpteenth time. Climbing the stairs, you go thru the door exercise again with the office door, luckily you can just push it. As you drop your stuff on/under/near/around your desk, your phone is ringing. You miss the call, the one you’ve been waiting for, of course. You put your stuff away, organize your desk, fire up the computer, retrieve your phone message (thus beginning the round of phone tag for the day), and begin typing a Microsoft Word document. After about a half hour’s worth of typing, the Blue Screen of Death occurs, “beginning physical dump of memory now”, and you lose all your work because remembering to save every 3 seconds is not easy or viable. Turning off the computer, you lay your head on your hands. It is only 9:00am in the morning. My co-workers suggest I just go home. I think they are worried the fire alarm, building security alarm, door locks, fax machine, printer, copy machine, and their computers will malfunction if I continue to stick around. I am firmly convinced, inanimate objects, despite not having brains or a central nervous system, do have the ability to have feelings, or at the very least have likes and dislikes that translate into bad or good days for a human.

It's Official

It's official. I have hopped off the blog-stalking track and jumped into my own blog. True, I only read three or four blogs, but I am a seasoned journaler, so the leap should be easy. I do not have the technology for pictures as of yet. I need to consult with my more technologically advanced Mom to see how that is done - and I will need to borrow her digital camera and downloading equipment and pots and pans and washer and dryer and...

Just kidding. I have all the stuff after equipment. Don't want to give the impression I am a complete freeloader. It doesn't help that when my dad wants a new "something", I get the old "something". It's good for things like lawn mowers, weed wackers, blenders, pasta makers, Christmas tree holders (from my childhood no less!) and the like. I swear my basement has become their second storage facility. But... I have to confess I still have stuff in their attic that I have yet to transport over to my house.

Here's a tasty platter of 20 "get to know me" hors d' oeuvres...

1) Describe one of your most embarrassing moments: I was in the 9th or 10th grade when I had the guy I had a major crush on over to study for a chemistry test. We were in the living room and I was trying really hard to be very "low-key" and not give myself away. I was in the middle of trying to explain something when I realized my dream guy was not looking at me any longer. He was looking at the doorway to the living room with a shocked expression on his face. I looked up and my father was standing there in a full-on chicken suit (feet, beak, red crest, breast, and tail). When I preceded to notice him, he started scratching at the floor and squawking. Needless to say, the rest of the study period was painful and school the next day was mortifying.

2) Describe your pet peeve fashion faux pas you have observed on others: I know that the big thing today is low rise pants, midriff-baring shirts, and thongs: but when a person wearing these items sits in children's chair at their place of work and the pants bunch out away from their back and the shirt rides up and one can see thongness - it's just wrong is so many ways. For men, it's the jeans that are a touch too short and do not rest on their shoes. Another for women is the too tight pants creating "camel toes" in the front. Panty lines are another big one, not to mention tight clothing and lack of underwear and jiggling occurs, again - not attractive by any means.

3) What were some of the fashion trends you fell victim to ('fess up, we all did at some point)? Guachos, legwarmers, big ass belts, 3 layers of shirts with matching 3 layers of socks, acid wash jeans, butt-ripped jeans, Spandex and crop tops, and last but totally not the least - BIG hair, big "sprayed to a freeze-finish salon magazine advertisement" hair.

4) Are you a letter writer, emailer, or phoner? Phoner, but if I ever get my ass in gear, I prefer to write letters.

5) How would you describe your handwriting? Font-size 1, cramped, and chicken-scratchy.

6) What is your favorite chore (we all have at least one that gives us a little obsessive-compulsive kick)? Re-arranging the furniture every 6 months or so which leads to my least favorite chore of deep cleaning.

7) If there was one thing you could change about yourself, what would it be? My nose.

8) What is the most grown-up thing you've ever done? Buy my own house.

9) What did you do that made you really proud of yourself? I taught a 3 yr old non-verbal autistic child to sign for "help", it took about 4 months but when he got it, WOW!

10) What is your favorite sound? Smell? a) A cat purring. b) A book, my mom's cooking, bonfire, freshly cut grass, thunderstorm, a fruity candle.

11) What is your favorite texture? Cat fur and velvet.

12) What is your favorite taste? Chocolate, really excellent pasta in a cream-based sauce.

13) What is your favorite sight? My three cats curled up on my lap, my home, and my friends.

14) Are you a "read-the-end-of-the-book-before-you-finish-it, to-find-out-what-happens" person, a "start-the- book-and-compulsively-finish-it-even-tho-it's-bad" person, or just a "read-from-start-to-finish-if-I-like-it" person? Read all the way thru if like it, but I do have to confess, if it is a very good writer and they have tense or suspenseful scenes in their book, I sometimes break down and flip ahead to see what happens so I can go back and read more calmly.

15) What did you think you'd be as an adult when you were a child? I used to think I wouldn't get to be an adult (and I guess that has come true in a way) but I would play "school" and be the teacher, play "Charlie's Angels" and be the blond one, play "Barbie" and dress her up and design dresses for her, play a brother and sister variety show and be a comic and an air-guitar player, and play "Nancy Drew" and try to solve mysteries. Some of these have come true ironically enough.

16) What animal part/talent do you wish you could have? I think fur would be cool to have in the winter. Retractable claws would be dandy in a pinch.

17) What's the most spur-of-the-moment, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants thing you ever did? I went camping up in Rangely with 3 other people, we got there at midnight, someone had to sit in the front of the boat with a lantern shining on the water to be able to tell the steerer where the rocks were, got to an island, had to move the next day (someone owned it and didn't want us on it), found a new island, camped for 2 days, came home and realized no one knew where we had been and none of us had had a cell phone.

18) What do you HAVE to do EVERY TIME? I have to lock my car every time I leave it, no matter where I've parked, even at friend's house out in the middle of nowhere :)

19) What is your luckiest find ever? On a cold winter day, I debated stopping to get gas and finally decided to get it before I got to my home town. I stopped, froze my butt off, and was looking at my front tires while my eyes watered from the wind. I noticed a paper by the tire that looked like a dollar bill. I looked away thinking it was one of those religious tracts that they print to look like money to sucker you in to picking them up (you typically find them in the library tucked into the speculative non-fiction sections or with the fiction authors who have "racy" material). I looked back and kept looking while the gas was filling the tank. After it shut off, I said "what the hell" to myself, and picked up the tract and unfolded it. It turned out to be an authentic one hundred dollar bill! I did look to see if anyone lost it, no one did, so it was free and clear mine. I felt bad for the person who lost it as it was right before Christmas, but I got myself a wonderful silver-plated silverware set at an antique show that had the initial "S" engraved on the handles with that hundred.

20) What is the funniest thing to happen to you? I was in college and was doing what the Education Dept termed a "field experience". I had to get up at the butt-crack of dawn and get dressed in the dark so I wouldn't disturb my roommate. I went to my first class and then we all carpooled to the school. I was teaching a small unit on the Greek alphabet and showing pictures of my trip to Greece when I was about their age. So I go thru my whole spiel and get to the question/answer part. One little guy raises his hand and asks me, "Miss S, why do you have two different colored shoes on?" I looked down and lo and behold I had a navy weave flat and a black flat with a bow on. Ever have that feeling that alot of time has gone by but it's really only seconds? that would be me thinking of what to say. I finally settled on a impromptu science lesson about dark and light and eyes. And I still had to go thru 2 more classes before I could go back to my dorm room and get changed.

Hope you didn't get too stuffed. Will be more entrees later. Toodle-oo!