Halloween Fun

While hanging out at the craft show on Saturday (notice I didn't say selling at the craft show), we noticed something. Halloween weekend, coupled with middle-aged women's propensity to buy and wear holiday-themed attire, offered us a challenge: catalog and calculate Halloween wear.

We set the point system as follows:

Shirts/Sweaters/Vests = 1 point
Average Accessories (more discrete, like candy corn earrings) = 1 point
Headgear and Stand Out Accessories (i.e. bat glasses) = 2 points
Costumes = 2 points
Pants (the holy grail of holiday wear) = 3 points

We set goals with different prize levels and began.

The day was ours. A cornucopia of Halloween garb paraded past our booth, multiplying into an outstanding 81 points: 51 sweaters/shirts, 10 small accessories, 9 stand out accessories, and 1 full costume.

Unfortunately, the elusive Halloween pants were not to be found.

Agent Double 0-Dork

While donning my disguise of a fun mom, I'm "supervising" a playdate with one of my son's friends and acting like I'm fine with the fact they're playing war and killing everyone in sight. I pretend not to cringe as I hear my three-year-old yelling, "Die!", and I look away from the melting ice cream bar on the kitchen table.

Meanwhile, back at the lair--I mean, my destroyed living room--my jewelry is slowing being perfected and cataloged while my evil cat purrs in satisfaction. (Okay, so I don't have a cat. I have that lovable dog that sheds like a maniac, but just go with it.)

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find me at the top secret Lenexa show and buy everything in my booth, thereby saving the world from apocalyptic devastation.

This message will self-destruct in 5 seconds--that is, if these boys have anything to do with it.

Falling By the Wayside

While I sit here looking into the living room and recalling yesterday's "Hoarders" marathon on TLC, it occurs to me that I have let a few things in my life go. Let's just say household cleanliness has been woefully neglected.

I still have jewelry (in various stages of completion) covering the coffee table and surrounding rug, balls of dog hair skittering across the wood floor like tumbleweeds in an old western (remind me NEVER to get a shedding dog again), and laundry here, there, and everywhere--yes, there's always laundry to be folded and put away.

But I'm an "artist." And a mother.



Doesn't that justify my disorganization and general messiness? Can someone tell my husband?

Weapon Of Choice - Fatboy Slim

I was looking for a "Lowrider" music video to go along with my great Conversion Van idea (I thought it could be the theme song), but then it hit me. What I really need is a little Christopher Walken.

(By the way, you should ask my husband to do his Christopher Walken impression sometime.)

The Good 'Ole Days

With multiple-day shows this month, I've had a revelation: Perhaps those old conversion vans weren't as bad as normal society makes them out to be.


Think about it. Most of those wood trimmed beauties had crushed velour seats reminiscent of the overstuffed couches of the eighties--talk about comfort! Then you've got accordion mini blinds (or maybe curtains!) for privacy, you've got a back bench that folds down to a bed, and, if you're lucky, your bucket seats may swivel around, making a great living room/conversation area. PLUS, there just might be a hook-up for a TV/VCR combination.



Could this be post-show heaven? An oasis of velour luxury after a long day of camp-chair overkill . . . no driving back and forth or getting up extra early on the 2nd day . . . hmmm.

Or should I say bombdigity?

Maple Leaf Fallout

Thanks to everyone who came out to Maple Leaf this past weekend. It was great weather overall, and our tent didn't threaten to blow over like last year (also, we set it up with a lot less grunting and giggling this time). Yea!



Some robots found new homes (which is always extremely satisfying), I got to see some great people from last year, and I had lots of fun hanging out with my sister Joy and my friend Sarah.

Now, I need to catch up on laundry (the color pile seems to have taken a liking to the medium pile because they reproduced like rabbits this weekend!), do the dishes that have lounged on the counter all weekend, and clean up the art-disaster-area in the middle of the living room.

Such lofty goals. I'm betting I'll burn out and take a nap after lunch.

Desperation and Borderline Exhaustion

This has been a busy week. I spent last weekend and most of Monday in a procrastination-fueled frenzy while attempting to perfect my Steampunk Clock/iPod Player for the Charles River Museum (as well as get it mailed--think dog hair in packing tape all over the Kroger box I used).

Then I moved on to a messy first attempt at turning vintage film canisters into Star Wars characters . . . with a LOT of input from my 6 and 8 year olds. (No, for the eighteenth time, I do not want to make Jabba the Hut.) Let's just say I own a lot of spray paint cans now, and a few oddly streaked film canisters have gone by the wayside. Oh, and did I forget to mention none of the Star Wars characters have actually been completed?

Why do I take on these things right before a show?


My living room has been hit by Hurricane Georgie-Porgie (I don't know, I was trying to come up with something clever, and it didn't really work). The coffee table is filled with metal and jewelry debris. The floor is covered with Hobby Lobby bags, empty Coke cans, and a thousand pairs of pliers.

The Maple Leaf Festival looms like a dark cloud over my soul. Will I finish any earrings? Will there be a Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker Bitty Bot duel to the death? Will I gain 10 pounds this week from my Coke consumption?

I suppose only time will tell.

Or you can always find out if you stop by my booth at the Maple Leaf Festival. (Although I beg of you not to say anything about the weight gain--I'm sensitive about things like that.)

Procrastination

My husband pointed out to me tonight that I have become worse than him. Apparently, my propensity for procrastination has developed late in life. Maybe I'll write more tomorrow.

The Evolution of Bitty Bots

I've rediscovered my love of Bitty Bots. I recently made several typical ones, but then I cautiously dipped my toe into the pool of possibility: I made two animal Bitty Bots.



And now, throwing all caution to the wind, I found I've been visited by the spirit of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Together with my 8-year-old son, I have outlined a plan to create a set of Star Wars Bitty Bots. Darth Vader, I'm comin' for you.

Earrings?

Got a shipment in today. Earrings will be attempted . . .
. . . more Foo Fighters may be necessary.

(P.S. Have I mentioned I don't have my ears pierced?)

A Moment of Inspiration: The Foo