Thursday, January 22, 2015

$10 Bathroom Cabinet, Say What?

So there I was, brainstorming ideas for Christian's twenty-whatever'th birthday present (who's really counting after 21; I'm not really sure how old I am either without some maths), when I remembered how his bathroom of tiny proportions supports little to no counter space for his manly accouterments. And what better solution than a rustic bathroom cabinet made with love, care, and only mild swearing from his dear wifey?

I didn't have a plan for this one; I was mostly winging it and measuring in finger to elbow lengths (hence the 1-2 swear words), but I think it ended up resembling a bathroom cabinet.  And what's that, you ask?  A herringbone pattern???  Why, yes.  I've been obsessed with herringbone lately, so I thought I'd give it a try with some 30 cent lattice strips that I cut down to little 4" chunks (sorry for the endless miter sawing, neighbors).

And of course, the coolest part is that it cost $9.68 for everything.  Just a 1x4, a 1x3, 4 lattice strips, scrap plywood, some pocket screws, that sexy door pull, a magnetic closure, and little baby hinges (that I painted black because they were that gross chromey brass color.  Does anyone even not puke when they see that finish?).

I wanted to surprise him by having it fully installed in said bathroom when he got home from work.  But you know, I quickly learned a profound and valuable life lesson:  It's impossible to install a bathroom cabinet by yourself.  And let that be a lesson to you, kids.  

ps-As you can see, with some help from pop-in-law, it did finally find its home above the toilet.

Monday, January 12, 2015

I run, therefore I hate it.

And here you thought my couple-month-long blog hiatus meant I wasn't makin' stuff.  Thought I was just distracting you and glazing over the absence with insane miniature bread creations, didn't you?  Don't you feel silly as I present to you: Stuffs I Done Made Over the Last Couple of Months (In Addition to Etsy Orders, Of Course).

So I drew sis-in-law-Liz for Chrimmat and since she's a big fan of running, I pulled out my bff (the Silhouette) and made her a tile sign (recognize that tile??), the sentiment with which I personally cannot identify.  Mad respect for folks who run and actually enjoy it.  I run a lot, so I'd love to feel that way.  But nope.  Wanna die every second that shiz is happening.

And since I was on a vinyl-on-tile kick, I made another wee tile sign with my very favorite quote of all time (made famous by MaryAnne Loveless and the old hymn book).  The sentiment is: quit worrying about everything, dummy.

And then I also made Liz this sign out of, yes, antiqued, aka old, wood planks.

Oh and THEN, as I was brainstorming xmas present ideas for my cute little niece, I came across this doll bed plan (from  And remember how I obsessively made miniature baked goods that one time and then shared it on the internets?  And remember how once I start a project, I get mildly obsessive about it?  Well the doll bed preceded those notorious baked goods, so this was probably the catalyst for that particular insanity (and more insanity to come, in all likelihood).  We don't have to talk about just how many hours were poured into this, but suffice it to say, it's embarrassing.  But if you're squeeing every hour or so at your baby lace throw pillows and other various miniature goodness, I think it's ok, right?  I'm pretty sure that's the rule.

The checker at Home Depot asked what I was using the wood for and I said, "A miniature bed." And SHE gave ME a weird look.  Can't a grown woman make a doll bed without being interrogated?

And then I realized you can't have a farm-style doll bed without a mattress and pillows and quilt.  What kind of comfort that does offer to inanimate play things?  And here's where I got in deep.  I pulled out the ol' sewing machine that -I'd never used before- I was mildly inexperienced with, studied the manual on how to use a sewing machine, looked up some tutorials, and after embarrassingly long time... I give you a crappy phone picture of [in my opinion and if I do say so myself] a totes adorbs doll bed!

And then I was like, "Oh, yeah, I'm completely sewing illiterate, but I'm'a tuft this sucker."  And thus, it was en-tufted.

I think the sewing is passable (just not up close).  Turns out sewing isn't the spawn-of-Satan activity I always thought it was (thanks, home ec).

And then the real exciting news happened: I got a dehydrator, so I've been sucking moisture from anything that will hold still long enough.  I'm like an Aquaman villain up in here.

So these sweet potato chips were amazing and allow you to feel all kinds of pretentious that you're eating such a healthy chip.
And then fruit leather, what????

You can come have some.  It's kind of amazeballs.

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Baby Baguettes, whaaaa???

I have something to tell you.  And trust me, I'm as bewildered as you are.  This statement should probably have a confessional tone to it...  Deep breath:  I made non-edible, miniature baked goods for absolutely no reason whatsoever.  [opens eyes into orbs, awaiting your judgmental eyebrow raise]

And before you go thinking I'm one of those desperate stay-at-home moms who has the time to iron sheets, grow and mix my own organic baby food, and hang pictures on my walls, stop right there.  I was really busy.  In fact, I was going to be late for a meeting to talk to a guy about turning my l'il Etsy biz into a limited liability corporation, had sssick husby who may or may not have puked out his entire soul, and was lining up someone who wasn't dying to watch Jack, and I was like, "Nah, I have time to give my fake bread a coating of clear nail polish..."

It started out innocent enough.  I made Jack some salt dough to play with, which he immediately threw on the floor.  And staring at its plump little mass on the floor, my head cocked slightly to the side, and I'm sure I had the crazy eyes as I picked it up and began to mold it into.... miniature bread? And before I knew it, there I was, hunched over my baby baguette, giving it some dimension with a burnt sienna chalk pastel.

And that in itself probably wouldn't be that weird were it not for the fact that I don't think I've been more pleased with a creation since... Jack, maybe?  I mean, look at it, will you??  Just look at it!  (Side note: I realize now I should have included something for scale in the picture.  That adorable baby cinnamon roll is about the size of a quarter, squee!!)

The real problem here is that now I've got a taste for it.  [Not a literal taste. There's nail polish on there, remember?]  And who's to stop me from making mountains of miniature food until the wee hours of the morning???  No one.  I'm a grown-A adult and if I want to spend my time making baby baguettes, I get to.  Sucks to be you, kids.