Nothing Like a Quickie!!

I know, I know. At our ages, by the time we even think of having a quickie, we've already brushed our teeth, chugged the Metamucil and gone to sleep. 

ATC Geisha with glass slide for Swap-Bot "Sender's Choice ATC Spring 201"

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I know, I know. At our ages, by the time we even think of having a quickie, we've already brushed our teeth, chugged the Metamucil and gone to sleep. 

Tonight, however, I'm not going to bore you with my par-for-the-course, insipid blathering. 

I'm sticking to a quick shown-tell.

(We'll hope I stay awake long enough to finish. No. Seriously.)

Mid-Century Modern ATC for VIA (Vintage Imagery ATC's on Swap-Bot)

Drinking and Teens (Plus TWO Swap Tags in ONE Post-I'm En Fuego, People!)

The one thing I like is how the dragon casts his shadow on the glass. I'd LOVE to say I planned it but...

Oh, you thought this would be a cautionary tale of teens that drink?

That is NOT what I said.

Read on, friends.

How the tables have turned. 

We are now being given a taste of our own medicine.

Our chickens have come home to roost.

And I just realized that not only am I out of idioms, I actually dislike them in general.

Because what I'm trying to say is that in my last post (a mere seven months ago)  I celebrated my mother's 75th birthday on October 2nd. We had a marvelous time! 

One of the things I enjoyed immensely were these cocktails named "Pretty in Pink". I think. Anyway. I had 2. And I mean TWO.

I thoroughly enjoyed talking and laughing with Aunts, Uncles and family friends. I'd barely had time to eat when I noticed and uncomfortable feeling in the chest area. It was a burning sensation; as if lasers were boring into me.  

If you're a parent, you'll know that feeling. Especially if you're a parent who made the mistake the decision to attend a function with any walking mass of teenaged y or xy chromosomes, who secretes hormones and a specific and precise type of pheromones that draw other teenagers with mobile phones and poor attitudes to them within seconds. They are also part of a roving gang who espouse human rights, equality and kindness but feel "old people" (read: anyone over 21) are a sheer waste of natural resources and having to waste a night hanging with the geriatrics is 

But to spend two hours with them is simply an unprecedented, irrational and unacceptable amount of time to hang out with a bunch of old people for the price of steak nachos and the chance to sneak sips of mixed drinks when no one was watching. Unfortunately for him, everyone was watching. Only because we couldn't stand up without putting on a *^&^^&* mask, so we stayed put.  

So, when he finally threatened me with unflattering "insta" photos (some trendy photo app that all the kids are into this week), I grabbed my bag and walked to the car.

Perhaps "walked" is a bit of a stretch. 

In truth, I grabbed the kid's arm and said "Look, Kid. Mommy is feeling a little woozy right now. I think I've overdone it and am exhausted."

"Huh." The Kid said. "If "woozy" means "hammered", then I'll go with that."

"Mommy is not hammered." I said, trying to follow at least one of the lines in the concrete. Maybe a couple, as long as they were sort of close together. It wasn't the time for being picky. "I only had 2 pink drinks!"

"Sure, mom. But weren't all of you tasting each other's drinks? You'd lean over to say 'hi' to each other, then you'd be swapping drinks. You probably had the equivalent of 4 drinks. At least." he mused.

"Two things," I said, as I gave up trying to walk one of the now hundreds of lines that appeared on the concrete and just let the kid propel me toward the car. "First, you're driving. Secondly, you keep that speculation to yourself or the insurance will mysteriously lapse on your car and your girlfriend will start dating your best friend and say the devil made her do it."

"The devil?" he said, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"That would be me. Metaphorically." I said.

"Metaphorically?" he said, eyebrow still in position.

"Drive." I ordered.

Next time, I'm calling Uber. It may cost more, but the judgement factor is way lower. 

Of course, the chances of me ending up on "insta" are probably the same.

Ingredients:

Thanks again to Laura at artfullymusing.blogspot.com for the fantastic tutorial (which I've used too many times to count!) on using glass in ATC's and tags, along with how to stamp and color it. HERE is the tutorial.

Tag #1

Birdsong-Graphic45

Ivy Altoids Insert from Alphastamps

Tiny Hinges-Alphastamps

Cherry Blossom Stickers-Jolee

Tiny Brass Butterflies 

Tag #2

Graphic45 Birdsong

Feathers (for fan) 

Altoids Dragon Insert from Alphastamps

Tiny Hinges-Alphastamps

Brass Dragon and Lantern and Japanese Lacquer Embossing Powder (Have NO idea where I got these things...sorry)

Small flat magnets 

Glass slides 2 x 2" Ranger

Stampin Up! Oriental Paintings

Alcohol Ink, Staz-On and Clear Embossing Powder

Heavy chipboard

Happy Birthday, Mama!

 

(Me, mama, mama's middle sister/my Auntie Ruth 10/2/2020)

1963 Mama Northeast High School Honor Society and Miss Aries

Mama at 70+ (We look JUST ALIKE...so God, would you PLEASE let me age like this????)

(mama, my brother Matt and yours truly)

 "Oh, Carmen...I love your blog!" a new fan...I mean, "subscriber" wrote me. "You're so funny! You should be published. You are simply the best humor writer on this planet, second only to the Goddess who was Erma Bombeck. You MUST be discovered and reign on the Best Seller lists and become wealthy enough to at LEAST get approved for that TJ Maxx card that keeps eluding you."

Or something like that. I paraphrase, naturally.

I'm actually sitting here with a big, goofy grin as I write this, although I'd appreciate all of you thinking I'm typing with a cool, professional and slightly bored detachment. You know...like someone who gets these types of positive reinforcements from people who are neither relatives nor foreigners who think they've landed on a Martha Stewart mirror website. 

Naturally, I wouldn't dare encourage them thinking they had somehow found a Martha Stewart offshoot, but since I'm sure their English may not be very good and I certainly would NOT want to misunderstood, I simply don't answer when they query. I just send them to a link of a pretty fabulous tutorial of mine and that usually occupies them for a couple of months. I also offer them the link to sign up for emails so that they don't miss any said fabulous tutorials. 

Hey...don't judge! If it was up to you, you'd just barge in and embarrass them at the first opportunity and tell them they made a mistake! But I allow them to save face by giving them the chance to improve their English enough to figure out they haven't, indeed, landed on a Martha Stewart mirror site and they could make the choice to leave at that point. 

So, now we see who the real not-so-nice people are, don't we, hmmm?

The past two weeks have been ROUGH. Not only did I come down with a terrible cold, I wasn't able to get ANY rest for it due to everyone from family and friends to the CDC calling daily to analyze my symptoms to determine if it was Covid.

Look...I didn't have a fever. Just a sore throat and sinuses that simply didn't care if someone slapped tape over my mouth in a kidnapping attempt...they were not going to open for any reason. I could taste ice cream and Oreo cookies. Strangely enough, however, I could not taste broccoli, cauliflower, salad, anything low-calorie, low-fat or anything with letters written in pastel colors which as we all know, tend to represent the two, previously mentioned hyphenated words.

That being said, I could've sworn I heard the whir and saw quick flashes of drones outside my windows, checking on me and my progress. 

Of course, the unknown factor is whether they were sent by the CDC (likely) or my mother (even more likely).

See, October 2nd was my mother's 75th birthday. And she was not letting anything get in the way of THAT party. Even if it was a daughter of whom it was 99.999% certain didn't have Covid but that .0009% (or whatever % was left...my math has always been somewhat...hmm...suspect, shall we say?) was enough to still set off alarm bells. 

Fortunately, by the 2nd, I was in good enough shape to attend. I was finally symptom free and while I chalk it up to rest, Afrin and Ibuprofen, I'm sure my mother's hosing me down with with an alcohol/clorox/ammonia based solution didn't hurt.

Oh, forgive me. The alcohol she drank. 

Actually, I write all this in jest. My mother knows she is my world. She is the most lovely, gracious and elegant woman I've ever known. Her talent for design is simply awe-inspiring and I'm so lucky to to have her! She has always encouraged both my brother and me in anything we took interest in while growing up: dancing, acting, children's theatre, singing lessons, swimming or anything else we could dream up. She would make it happen! 

She's the one who encouraged me to read. She would take me to the library in downtown Greensboro, NC in the summer and I would read for hours. Then, I'd check out as many books as I could carry and walk the 8 blocks or so to her office and lay on the gorgeous Art Nouveau couch (that now resides in MY home!) and read until she got off work. She allowed me to take pottery lessons, fostering a love for all art that didn't take root until 6 years ago when I needed it the most. All of this is because of her.

Thank you, mama. Know that you are loved and treasured and that everything you gave me has become my salvation, even though neither of us could've possibly seen how it would manifest. I love you. I hope you're around for another 75. 

Finally...A Rose for Miss.Bea Part 2

Oh, come on now...did you REALLY think this was going to end with me NOT cooking up the most fabulous rose I was capable of making to give to a 99-year-old woman???

Not that you'd be wrong in thinking that I fought starting the whole project tooth and nail. THEN, when it turned out like this, it sat in my studio for 5 days before I sent it! I almost didn't! 

To FULLY understand this post, you must read part 1. Oh. You didn't. Didn't have time, huh? Ok. Well, let me recap part 1 for you so you'll be caught up. 

Ready?

Miss. Bea

99

Ma's friend's Ma

Ma says make card

What like

Loves roses

I hate roses

made begonias

sent in time

decide try roses

And we're all caught up!

I went digging for rose punches and dies. I stumbled on Susan's Garden Rose Dies by Sizzix that I'd never used. 

I'll start by saying that while it's not brain surgery, you do have to build it petal by petal. Every petal needs to be shaped and rolled with tools, including tweezers. It takes time and, if you're like me and cuss like a sailor, then you can't work on it on a Sunday. 

Trust.

I decided to stay with a simple, pink rose. I always use a heavy weight paper for my flowers. SU! 85 lb is a staple. I'll shape the petal, then spray it with water and shape again then let dry. When all the petals are assembled, I go back and shape some more, then I spray them with at least 3-4 coats of acrylic spray (in the garage!!!) that has just a bit of shine to it. Then I shape again and let dry. 

Repeat spray

Let dry

 Laugh at everything due to unintentional inhalant high 

Take nap

Wake up grouchy

Refuse to part with project because it turned out so nicely and dang it! YOU WANT TO HOLD ON TO IT AND SHOW IT TO YOUR MAMA!!!

But never fear, it's now out of my life and into Miss. Bea's. And in a way, I'm kind of glad it's gone. Because I can totally forget I made it and slip back into the default position of "I don't do roses, sorry."

Stitched Slots-Careful-Don't Say it Fast-Just Don't Say it at ALL

To be fair, I didn't think I was gonna like these little suckers AT ALL.

The very talented and VERY patient Laurie over at VIA sent us these cut outs from the Tim Holtz dies and said "have at it".

Like I said...didn't know what to do with them, ergo, I did not care for them.

After mucking around a bit, it occurred to me to make the piece a "unit" instead of just random stuff stuck in it willy nilly.

I used a very old piece of scrap-close to a century, I'd guess-to form the idea. Which was the roses in the urn. I glued the slot to make it curve just a small amount so I'd be able to put what I wanted within. I used G45 tags, notes and envelopes. I used another tag at the top I covered with G45 (all from Botanical Tea) and left journal spots (not shown)

The butterflies, also a century or more old, are actual Dresden and were stamped from the moulds in Germany. I was given several sets of Butterflies, Eagles and Asian Samurais from a generous friend and try to pass them on when I can.

I think it turned out nicely. Weird how the things you think you like are the things you struggle with the most...but things like this I think on which I'll crash and burn?? Hmmm.

Or maybe it's just medication time. Who knows?

Begonias for Miss. Bea...Part 1

This Begonia card is one I made for a certain Miss. Bea. This lovely lady is the mother of a close friend of MY mother. I've never met Miss. Bea. But when mom asked me to make a card for her birthday, I said okay.

I didn't even get uptight at my mother's standard 2-day notice. LORD that drives me INSANE. 

But there's NO WAY you can get too aggravated when you find out that the card you're making is going to a woman who's turning 99-years-old. 

99-years-old!

I can't imagine living that long! 

Think of what all she has lived through! Not to mention how long she's lived with her children!

Sorry. But I'm 52 and my y-chromosomes have already driven me bat sh*t crazy. Living another 47 years with them and I'll be committed before I draw Social Security.

By choice. But enough of that nightmare, already.

I told mi mamacita I'd make the flower card. I asked Ma what Miss. Bea's favorite flower was and mom said "She loves roses!"

I said, "Great! I'll get started on the Begonias right away!"

Look. It's NOT personal...I swear! It's just that every single time I've attempted a rose, be it via punches or dies-especially those little spiral rose dies-there seems to be a conspiracy against me. I've never...and you can check this blog from start to finish (oh, please don't do that. I created this blog and the thought of doing that makes me want to cry with sheer hopelessness. Seriously.) and you won't see a rose worth its' salt. 

But I knew I could knock out some pretty good begonias with my McGill punches, right? I hand colored and shaped each petal, the leaves have the right shape and shine, the colors will never fade, the sentiment is right, I mean, this is a really good card! One that I'm sure she and my mom's friend will love! I know this with all my heart.

But she wanted a rose. And this isn't a rose. While this will reach her on her birthday, shouldn't I try just once more? As if in answer, I was organizing my dies and stumbled across a forgotten about die from Susan's Garden. I have quite a few from her that I've used many times. Except this one. And yes. It's a rose.

Let's see if I can make this a part 2, shall we?

ATC Coin “Road Trip” (Imagined) for VIA

Vintage imagery ATC, my swap group over at swapbot.com, came up with a Road Trip coin swap. ATC coins are 2.5 inches and they've been very popular lately.

I want to start by saying that my family never, ever went on road trips when I was young. In fact, the longest car trip we ever took was a designated point A to point B one. Point A being our front door and Point B being Anna Maria Island, Florida. Which, I might add, couldn't be reached by I-95 back in those days. It took 2 hours longer to reach, as we had to make the trip on I-75. 

That trip was also made in a two-door, sub-compact Toyota Corolla, with 4 people and no air- conditioning. As this was a yearly trip that my father insisted on making in one fell swoop, I, always the little wordsmith, quickly mastered the pronunciation and definitions of "patricide" and "matricide", along with figuring out whether or not I could actually be charged as a minor.

Ok. I'm just kidding. I just fantasized about throwing a tantrum and forcing them to buy me a Barbie and Ken Swimming Pool to play with on the way down. At least there'd be someone finding relief from the misery.

So I have to say that I’m grateful the whole road trip idea never occurred to my parents. Since they both worked, I’m not really sure how it would have worked anyway. But good Lord I’m sure glad it didn’t. 

Back to the Road Trip thing...I DID say this whole thing was imagined, right? 

I decided to work with the states in which my swap partners were located. First, there was Texas. I found a background using an old vintage whimsical map and enlarged Texas. I printed it twice and cut the Alamo Route 66 image to pop up over the original. I printed the Texas state flag and, using flower soft, made a poor man’s copy of the Texas bluebell which is the state flower. I used a soft leather around the sides and, taking a long horn pendant I found in my stash, used it to act as a hanger.

For Iowa, I cut the harvester and popped it up. I printed an image of the state flag and some corn, for obvious reasons, and re-created a miniature prairie rose, the Iowa State flower, using my McGill punches. The Asian emblem at the top signifies the numerous Asian sister cities that Iowa shares with many different Asian countries. Last but not least, Iowa's state stone is the geode. 

Now, many of you may be looking at one another and saying, “But, that looks like anything but a geode!”.

This would not be a very nice thing to say. So take it back. Right now. Because after searching Michaels and Hobby Lobby (to include their Clearance sections and you KNOW how long that takes!) for all intents and purposes this is a #*%^*}% geode. 

Forgive me for zooming off into that good ol' worn out section of left hand field again, but every time I look at that Iowa State flag I keep seeing a face and it drives me a little crazy. ER. Sorry. Let’s move on. 

Actually, there’s nowhere to move!! I actually have more art than posts. Can you believe it? I  have at least THREE COMPLETED ART PROJECTS just sitting here waiting for me to post them! Will wonders never cease? Will these miracles continue to happen? When did my meds decide to wake up and actually go to work instead of lying around on their asses all day watching Netflix? 

Who cares?!?  I'm just gonna run with it.

Well, at least walk a little faster than usual. You know, the one where your entire foot leaves the ground with each step?

Talk about a Road Trip waiting to happen, huh?

(In terms of the most awful ending lines I've ever written, this one takes first prize. So, enjoy it. Savor it. Embrace it. Pet and stroke it and...hmmm...that's completely awkward. Just appreciate it, why don't you?)