craft-catch-up

So, this is another "catch-up" post to show some little crafty-projects from the last few weeks.

Having a wedding to attend and wanting to spice up my plain black dress, I made a feathery headpiece. I got the supplies at a fly-fishing shop much to the amusement of my fishing-enthusiast-husband.

(Also, I'm showing off the classy way to drink Bourbon - from a teacup, the way Swearingen does in Deadwood. I love this teacup and saucer because it's got the Great Lakes, a cool ship, and the queen all thrown together.)

I scoured through my old button collection to find something for the above "fascinator". I have no explanation as too why there is a small bullet mingling amongst my buttons. Very strange.

This is the area of my house dedicated to bear posters and wall-hangings (you don't know you need an area like this until you have one) :

I'd been struggling to paint the plaque that the shiny bear was attached to, trying to do something ghetto-folksy-fabulous... but I couldn't make it strike the right chord. In the end I ripped the bear off his moorings and made a speech bubble instead.

Below is something I made relating to my dear ol' Dad. He became an amputee when he was 30 years old... on Valentine's Day.

The loss of my Dad's arm is kind of a deep-seeded theme in my family because so many of our stories stem from that (it's even the reason why I started getting all my tattoos on my left arm - it's my "story arm").

This picture is partly about accepting people for being the normal, flawed humans they are.

I have simultaneously revered and villainized my father throughout my life. I used to feel really neglected by him, but I know that a lot of the things I like about myself now are because of how I was raised (by wolves). Anyway, it was time to just let my Dad be on the same level as me and stop looking up to or down on him; time to stop blaming him for some things and start giving him credit for some other things.

Literally it was time to obliterate the "hero" and "zero" labels and accept that my dad is a normal, average human... but also to accept that he is "just" my father. Our lives are our own and we don't owe each other any explanations for the choices we make or the things we do. I'm still working on extracting that parental voicebox lodged somewhere in the back of my brain telling me what to do... or not do.

Anyway, back to Feb. 14th.

I was apparently meant to be born on Valentine's Day but came out a few days late. I'm happy to say that missing the mark on my due date did not plague me throughout life. I've been very blessed in the true-love department.

I don't even know if it's really true that I was supposed to be born on the 14th but I have childhood memories of hearing that and this fact, combined with the lore (and gore) of my Dad's accident, has always given me a heightened and distinctly non-Hallmark appreciation for V-day. I really get the idea of "love-hurts-but-it-hurts-good"... like being struck by cupid's arrow. That's gotta hurt right? I mean, Cupid is cute but we tend to forget he is piercing flesh with projectiles in order to infect us with love.

I have a vivid imagining of my mother receiving, instead of flowers that one Valentine's Day, the news that her husband had crashed. She thought he was dead at first when she saw the base commander and chaplain walking up to the door. I can imagine the physical pain of thinking that your Love is dead. And then I can imagine her on another Valentine's day a few years later, sitting in discomfort, waiting to get this huge, overdue, over-nine-pound baby out of herself but already loving the little thing that was literally about to rip and tear its way out of her.

Ahhhhh Valentine's Day.

Anyway, it's how's that for a Friday afternoon ramble?

(You can click on these to see them bigger y'know?)

This collage was done over top of an iconic "hero picture" of my Dad (before he lost his arm obviously). I've never desecrated it before.

(Geez, I sure do look a lot like him!!)

Moving on, my sister-in-law got married so I made this card. The fabrics and buttons all come from significant places.

And this is just some bread I made. I make bread all the time but I had to take a picture of these loaves because they came out so. fucking. perfectly!