WTF When: July? Really? June was a lost month. Short as the month seemed there was no end to the WTF fodder.
WTF Art: The first three offerings come courtesy of this past weekend’s Recycled Arts Festival. Imagine spending hours diligently transforming old metal into beautiful jewelry. The jewelry turns out so spectacular that you really, really want to keep it. The problem is that you’ve signed up and paid for a vendor’s booth in advance and darn it if the organizer’s don’t want you to sell your creations. The perfect solution: display said jewelry on an autopsied dead baby/zombie doll! If the putrid color and blank eye sockets don’t scare away potential customers then the pins protruding from the doll’s fingertips are sure to scream, “Don’t Touch!”
Anyone can keep their creations near and dear to them with similar display models. Word of warning though, these little guys are expensive.
Have lots of scrap metal just laying around oxidizing? Well fire up the blow torch, add your old high school band instrument and voila! Instant lawn art.
I’d put this in my yard! Seriously.
Finally, I catch a lot of flack at home for my lack of fashion sense. Nary a day goes by when one or more of my children, and occasionally even my D.H. doesn’t comment on my hum drum, dreary mom clothes. What’s wrong with wearing kitty cat pajama bottoms and baggy t-shirts? Anyway, I’ve decided to spice things up and take a fashion cue from this young lady.
The contouring stripes stretched over my nether regions would shut the critics up once and for all. I wonder if that tutu comes in green.
WTF Mistakes: Yesterday my DH came home from work about the time that the smoke alarms went off. Even with the kitchen window open and the fan on high the dense, eye-stinging smoke lingered all evening. I’d been making homemade baked beans and although the little suckers had been parboiled the day before, soaked all night and spent hours in the oven with molasses, ham, etc. they were still quite al dente. This particular 25 pound bag of beans has given me nothing but trouble and they remain stubbornly hard no matter what I do. I never salt the water ahead of time and I’ve tried every trick in the book to soften them up. Anyway, yesterday when I made a pre-dinner check they remained hard as pebbles. In desperation I pulled the dutch oven out of the oven, added some extra water to the beans and put it on the range hoping that bringing the pot to a boil might cook them. It didn’t work. In fact, it failed miserably. The beans were already bubbling from three hours in the oven. Adding inferno-like heat to the bottom of the pan transformed the contents into a solid, hard, blackened beany mess. I made sandwiches for dinner and then proceeded to soak the pan. The scorch job was so complete that I’ll probably have to scour and re-season the cast iron Dutch oven. Nuts.
Anyway, during the soaking process my DH sidled up to me and said, “Bet you won’t blog about that, you want everyone to think you’re perfect.”
Au contraire, Dear Husband, contraire. Not only will I blog about this, but I’ll even share a picture of the aftermath. For the record, I do not think I am, nor do I ever intentionally try to make people think that I think I’m perfect. Silly man, if he actually read my blog then he’d know that… but then he’d also know how often Sven visits and about my yarn acquisitions. Doh! Rather than correct him, I’ll just let him think I’m pretentious. I think I’ll $hit can those unruly beans.
WTF Knitter’s Tan: Or in this case, knitter’s sunburn. Two of my daughters are attending tennis camp this week so we’re at the courts from 8:30 until 12:30 each day. Yesterday I decided to bring along my shawl and knit while waiting in the van. The shawl draped over my right leg, but the sun shone in directly on my left. Oopsy doodles!
Have a happy Wednesday!
ps, for all of you really into vintage linens, there is an amazing contest happening here! Go check it out and enter for a chance to win some lovely flour sack dishcloths, patterns and floss.