Excuse Me, My Oven is on Fire
If I'm away from the keyboard suddenly, it's because my oven has caught fire. :) I got some dark-brown Fimo clay and I'm making a wand out of a bamboo knitting needle. I wrapped the clay around the bottom of the knitting needle in a spiral (making sure to cover up the "US 10" mark) and burnished the clay with gold burnishing powder. I'm hoping that both the needle and the powder won't mind being baked at 225 for 30 minutes, which is what it takes to harden the Fimo. I'll let you know if it works!
In other news, AAAAAH! Dad the Brave gave me a gift certificate to his lady friend's clothing store so that I could buy nice-looking clothes for my Chicago presentation. (This is not The Lady Friend, who he's been dating for eight years. This is another lady friend. Speaking of which, why are elderly women always hitting on DtB? I realize objectively from looking at his college photos that he was a hottie of movie-star proportions, but (a) that was a long time ago and (b) more importantly, HE IS MY DAD. o_O) This is the second time DtB has given me a gift certificate to this place, and he never writes an amount on it. I just go in there and lady friend suggests clothes for me, which I try on and some of which I walk out with.
Today I got two cotton skirts, one very cute and one super-extremely-OMB cute, a very cool pair of black pants, and a t-shirt. I glanced down at the receipt when I was leaving and nearly passed out. I am not used to shopping in stores like this. I am not used to paying more than a single-digit amount for t-shirts, for one thing.
(So far, no oven fire.)
On the other hand, I have never had a pair of pants fit this well in my life before, and they actually make me look skinny. I could get used to it, maybe. But realistically, I'd probably be better off just learning how to sew. :)
I need to write my third book report for this unit in my Multicultural Lit class (speaking of which, go read Rain is Not My Indian Name, by Cynthia Leitich Smith!), but my brain is shot from writing the first two. Maybe I'll just work on my costume. Or vaccuum.
*hugs* everyone!
In other news, AAAAAH! Dad the Brave gave me a gift certificate to his lady friend's clothing store so that I could buy nice-looking clothes for my Chicago presentation. (This is not The Lady Friend, who he's been dating for eight years. This is another lady friend. Speaking of which, why are elderly women always hitting on DtB? I realize objectively from looking at his college photos that he was a hottie of movie-star proportions, but (a) that was a long time ago and (b) more importantly, HE IS MY DAD. o_O) This is the second time DtB has given me a gift certificate to this place, and he never writes an amount on it. I just go in there and lady friend suggests clothes for me, which I try on and some of which I walk out with.
Today I got two cotton skirts, one very cute and one super-extremely-OMB cute, a very cool pair of black pants, and a t-shirt. I glanced down at the receipt when I was leaving and nearly passed out. I am not used to shopping in stores like this. I am not used to paying more than a single-digit amount for t-shirts, for one thing.
(So far, no oven fire.)
On the other hand, I have never had a pair of pants fit this well in my life before, and they actually make me look skinny. I could get used to it, maybe. But realistically, I'd probably be better off just learning how to sew. :)
I need to write my third book report for this unit in my Multicultural Lit class (speaking of which, go read Rain is Not My Indian Name, by Cynthia Leitich Smith!), but my brain is shot from writing the first two. Maybe I'll just work on my costume. Or vaccuum.
*hugs* everyone!