Booty Bag

 

I made Olive a 'booty bag'. I'm calling it that because it reminds me of a pirates boot, and functions to keep all her booty; ie blocks. 

"Ra ra ra!" means anything and is meant to be yelled forcefully, or so Olive says. Like a battle cry, a pirate's slur. Her favourite to say besides "Ning ning" and "da da da Daaaaaah!".

The old bag keeping her blocks was blue and polyester, with a zipper she couldn't unzip. It was ugly. I want her life to be beautiful, and filled with pretty things. Pretty handmade things.

Bulk Bags

a shiney kind of punk rock

I have begun the slow slow slow process of putting studs on my leather jacket. I've wanted to for a long time, have had the studs around a while. I've been apprehensive, because I LOVE my jacket. It took a lot of hours to make. It was the first. But its not perfect, so finally I am telling myself that if all doesn't work out with metal and metal and metal, I can always make myself another one. I can always make myself another one anyway.

I expect it will take me forever. I've probably put about a half hours work so far:

Its complicated work for one because its hard to know what anything will look like until I've already punched holes and pressed the stud in. I'm excited about the process however. This is something that will even look awesome undone and half finished, so the 'journey' is the fun.

My inspiration? Karen O and Lady Gaga, because I adore these ladies.

 

Let's be honest, I probably need one of these too:

2 Girls

I think everyone remembers being a kid, and having fun doing something they weren't good at. Or something they thought they weren't good at. For example I am a terrible swimmer. I wont drown, I can swim, but.it.is.not.graceful. I have taken lessons as an adult, a part of my desire to be a triathlete, part joke, part truth, the only real kind of jokes there are. I was just as bad as when I was young, but still enthusiastic. I happen to love swimming. A lot.
I also cannot ice skate. Every winter I think with a twinkle about going out to a rink and learning, I don't have any skates.
I've been pushing myself to draw. As a child drawing was a natural expression of my thoughts. I dont remember when I stopped drawing, but I'm sure its because I thought I wasn't any good at it. Such hog wash! Why would that matter! Damn our foolish adolescence. Of course I don't have to be an artist to draw, why does it take maturity to know that?

A picture I've held onto since my teennessism. It had to have been cut from The Mirror, or some other free wrapping paper:

Olive's face, my hair:

Knitted Socks

I finished these just about a week ago. So many start and stops, beginning in early December, then interrupted by holidaying and bedbugs, I finished them one step at a time. Learning that I am quite fast at knitting, all breaks aside, and I enjoy the committed bodily work that allows for a wandering mind. I understand why so many find refuge in Knitting. This is my second project ever, the first being a small pop-corned cowl, and I've been inspired to open a Ravelry account:

illuseevil

Let's see where these needles knot me.

Also, LOTS of credit has to go to Janine who's pattern I used, and who encouraged these socks into existence.

Feathers and God

some necklaces.

 

Just some thick braided thread, a bobbin, some snap hardware, and feathers tied up. The other one I didn't really make. I haven't been wearing jewelry as its generally not too baby friendly, I was worried I'd just be anxious all day about Olive tearing the chains off my neck, so I took that sweet Jesus/Mary (because it spins!) pendant and tied it to some string. And now I have no worries. Plus my neckline is much more entertaining for Olive while she nurses or sit on my lap.

 

In the Dark, really Fast.