I also use the oven to bake edible things. Occasionally.
Is it Spring break? Are you too broke to travel? Do the stereotypical Spring break shenanigans (any combination of alcohol, beaches, and gorgeous women in terrifying bikinis will work here) make you reach for a paper bag to breathe into? If so, do what I do: embark on the most frustrating, time-consuming, nit-picky craft project conceivable.
A 1.75 pound box of polymer clay was my poison of choice. 1.75 pounds assured me that I could make tons of hideous items and still have clay left over!
The really thrilling part was searching for items to press into the clay. Miniature picture frames, cupcake decorations, costume pieces, priceless heirloom jewelery... nothing was safe.
This birdhouse was bought at Goodwill nearly six years ago (crafting, like revenge, is a dish best served cold). The wood was soft (not good for too much hammering) and lumpy (not good for glue/paper), so I could never figure out what to do with it. Inspiration finally struck, but she sure took her sweet time.
This project was really fun because it was such a come-at-me-bro challenge. Fitting the tiles together required a lot of post-baked re-slicing and sanding. Painting them was even more fun because I didn't have a clue what in Sweet Betsy's name I was doing. Sometimes I used acyclic paint, or alcohol inks, or glazes, or a combination thereof, not to mention mica powder and gold leaf, which helped me cover up the few tiles that had been... poorly colored.
I've had this little lady about as long as the birdhouse. Dad had attached the wings on her years ago, but since she was matte and the wings were metallic, she never looked right. Then inspiration struck again, SIX YEARS LATER, when I realized spray paint was A Thing.
And there it is.
Crafting aside, Spring break was the best in memory. I watched Poirot all day, to the point of needing to subscribe to acorn.tv (at the suggestion of the Troll's mother). Speaking of which, the Troll went on a trip (yes, he invited me; no, I couldn't go; YES, THIS KILLED ME) and didn't get back until Wednesday, meaning I was able to see him about three hours before he had to go to his night job. And then three hours on Friday. Sunday was our only full day of car-washing, grocery-shopping, Pacific Rim-watching shenanigans, and as always, I can't think of a better way to spend my time.
A 1.75 pound box of polymer clay was my poison of choice. 1.75 pounds assured me that I could make tons of hideous items and still have clay left over!
The really thrilling part was searching for items to press into the clay. Miniature picture frames, cupcake decorations, costume pieces, priceless heirloom jewelery... nothing was safe.
This birdhouse was bought at Goodwill nearly six years ago (crafting, like revenge, is a dish best served cold). The wood was soft (not good for too much hammering) and lumpy (not good for glue/paper), so I could never figure out what to do with it. Inspiration finally struck, but she sure took her sweet time.
This project was really fun because it was such a come-at-me-bro challenge. Fitting the tiles together required a lot of post-baked re-slicing and sanding. Painting them was even more fun because I didn't have a clue what in Sweet Betsy's name I was doing. Sometimes I used acyclic paint, or alcohol inks, or glazes, or a combination thereof, not to mention mica powder and gold leaf, which helped me cover up the few tiles that had been... poorly colored.
I've had this little lady about as long as the birdhouse. Dad had attached the wings on her years ago, but since she was matte and the wings were metallic, she never looked right. Then inspiration struck again, SIX YEARS LATER, when I realized spray paint was A Thing.
And there it is.
Crafting aside, Spring break was the best in memory. I watched Poirot all day, to the point of needing to subscribe to acorn.tv (at the suggestion of the Troll's mother). Speaking of which, the Troll went on a trip (yes, he invited me; no, I couldn't go; YES, THIS KILLED ME) and didn't get back until Wednesday, meaning I was able to see him about three hours before he had to go to his night job. And then three hours on Friday. Sunday was our only full day of car-washing, grocery-shopping, Pacific Rim-watching shenanigans, and as always, I can't think of a better way to spend my time.