I'm blue...

...quite literally. I had a close encounter with food colouring, which always leaves me, well, stained and tarnished. Blue fingernails, anyone?
We had both little ones around today, both suffering from one ailment or another, miserable and totally not their normal selves. Lil' boy crying with pain from what he described as headache (poor dude was burning up with fever as well, the kind only kids get and really scares the sheets out of you) , and lil' princess constipated and plagued with tummy ache.
While there was nothing much we could do for them in terms of medication (all drugged up, only thing we could administer on top of it was a cool- ish bath for the little mister to keep the temperature in check and the recommended fruity treats for the lass to help sort her bowels) the idea was to keep their minds off it.
Loads of films ("We bought a zoo" is pretty cool, even adults can watch it without wanting to wash their eyes with acid. Matt Damon is an almost bearable actor when he doesn't pretend to be some sort of supersoldier, superspy, supersomething. Who knew? And apart from the obvious tearjerking, you get lions and tigers and bears, oh my. ) and a bit of comfort food. Wee dude got to play Lego Star Wars at his leisure (never lasted long, due to his poorly head) and there might or might not have been Yoghurt with Smarties.
At some point, I remembered something I had seen on pinterest. Blue, green and pink orange slices made with food coloring- that would look ace in their lemonade! Or so I thought. Out came the food coloring. Blue was the tint of choice.
I cut up the one orange we had left from our latest sangria and placed the slices in a bowl with the color and some hot water. Wait, wait, wait, wait some more- cr@p, all grey and ugly. Served a slice to her lil' constipated majesty in a glass of sprite and she couldn't quite face the prospect. Best part was how the orange slice bobbed up and down in the glass. Great.
So I was stuck with a bowl of blue water, grey- ish orange slices and a severe aversion to disposing of aforementioned water.

I ended up chucking the orange slices (really, I should have eaten them, but the color truly was horrific) and putting the water into an ice cube bag. The poor little sods are back home with their Mum now (she is a nurse with the NHS and can look after them a lot better than a panicky, paranoid Dad and me, who would feed the girl plums till she pukes and put cold wraps around the wee dudes'  legs until he hates me for the rest of his life) and when they come back, we can make their drinks turn funny colors. 

So, what's the lesson here?

I haven't got a clue, but let me assure you that blue lemonade looks a lot better than normal lemonade, and not everything you see on pinterest will work out as described. 

Catch ye laters, alligators.

Can book worms be earth worms?

In fact, I really haven't got a clue, but if there's a slim chance for this morph to take place, it's happening right now, in what I have taken to calling my garden.
In our recent home improvement frenzy, no prisoners were taken and sacrifices were made with light hearts and a song on our lips.
The Mister decided that he was not impressed with the heavy, dark bookcases anymore. They look a bit like this HEMNES unit from IKEA (maybe a previous range, I forgot their name):

They looked beautiful in our previous house, but with the new white mantelpiece (oooh, I'll have to tell you about that bad boy soon!) they are not exactly pleasing to the eye anymore, and the years of serving in a 5 cat household started to show on them as well. So something had to be done.

At first we meant to take one of them to bits and get rid of the pieces on the skip. (which isn't too far away, would have been three trips on foot carrying the stuff over) But seriously, who were we kidding? Too lazy to even take the thing apart, and we knew dang well it wouldn't happen. So we figured we could make room in some corner of the house- but then we couldn't be bothered dragging it up the very narrow, treacherous steps. So what were we to do? No fireplace to burn it in, no way to use it elsewhere in the house and no way to pass it on to a new good home as years of... cat activity made that quite impossible. 

So the Man said, innocently: "What if we use it as a planter?" I actually thought he meant to place it outside upright and use it for lots of little pots with lots of little plants in them. And I loved the idea. But then he went "no, I mean as an actual planter, flat on its back and filled with soil!" "THAT'S CRAZY TALK, man, what are you thinking??? Let's do it!"

Basically, it is a much larger version of the japanese temple. All the rest of the awful junk and debris went into it and then we filled it up with soil. Bless him, my darling went and got loads of big, heavy bags of soil from the local gardening shop on foot, probably disfiguring his spine for all eternity. I used to think that I am physically stronger than him (leftover arrogance from those early years of bodybuilding, believe it or not), but he proved me wrong. I lugged one bag and nearly collapsed, but he made quite a few round trips and never faltered. How he does it I will never know.

Anyway, just feast your eyes on our OOAK planter for a minute, if you will:

Sorry about the shadowy photos, that's all I got for the time being.

Under the plastic lid some lavender is hopefully growing, the kitchen unit pansies have a lot more room to play, two ferns are doing me immensely proud (I LOVE ferns from the bottom of my heart, just as much as pansies.) and some random rescue plant called coreopsis from the reduced section in the supermarket is actually thriving now. Oh, and there is a passion flower baby in the left corner, which I am willing to grow and prosper with every ounce of willpower I can possibly transfer onto a little plant that really doesn't want to be here and would rather spend some quality time ANYWHERE but where it is now. 

The stone slabs are actually natural slate roof tiles that came down in one storm or another. And the plastic lid is one half of an old propagator, the other half being kept, just in cae we feel the need to, well, propagate stuff again. 

It all looks a bit daft in the photos, but I swear that if you came 'round for a little bbq, you would like it. Unless you think that having a bbq in a garden made from trash by folks who have next to no disposable income is no fun, in which case you miss out on this:

And I can't see anybody right in their minds not wanting to grab a plate, sip some homemade sangria (sober option with grape juice available, fresh fruit as standard) and climb into a cardboard box to run head- first into the next unsuspecting citizen they can find. 

Be our guest, anytime.

The book worms are waiting.

Oh, and since those pictures were taken we have upgraded to a foldable bbq which collapses to a tiny flatpack of about 1 cm thickness. Nothing if not posh, guys, nothing if not posh.

Batpoop crazy!

Guys,
I find that simply posting on this blog really got me in the right mood to craft again. I mean, what's the point in moaning about a house that needs... customizing.. and then not do anything about it?
So I got to work Friday night. And I mean night, as I came home LATE after a rather long shift at work and a despicably tedious, wet, cold hike on the bus (which is new to me as the old house was so close to my shop that I only had to fall over face first twice and I was there) and decided that the lack of bats in the living room was rather disturbing.
Hoarder that I am, I luckily had some black cardboard at hand. Out came the trusty old scissors, and with the help of a bat shape neatly copied onto a white piece of paper from my laptop screen (hey, do I look like I can afford a new printer??) turned stencil, I got to work and cut out 18 ridiculously cute, fluttery bats.

Yup, another mobile phone picture as it was 3 am in the morning and my proper camera has decided that working her flash is just too much hard work. Can't blame her.

Obviously, there had to be more spiders since my arachnophobia is a considerable entity in my life and nothing says "batpoop crazy" better than surrounding yourself with the one thing you really fear, right?  So I used about 750 square feet of fake cobweb and loads more plastic spiders to really make a house a home.

By the time I had finished my infernal webbing, it was about 4 am... maybe I should mention that my alarm was due to go off at 8 to pull another fun filled, joyful shift in the bookies? I reckon that was what inspired the finishing touches. Enter Stephen King.

I figured (with stupid o'clock logic) that ketchup would be better than food colouring. Since ketchup does not contain food colouring. *d'oh* I also got the second R wrong, should have faced the other way 'round. Silly, overtired me!

I wasn't around to see the kids' faces when they turned up Saturday afternoon, but if the fact that they insisted on staying up 'til after ten to wait for my arrival back home to actually thank me is an indicator, I reckon they liked it.

I hope to be able to show off my chandelier tomorrow (THE BIG DAY, as Halloween is MY holiday of choice!) because it is sadly not even finished yet. On the twelfth day of Halloween my true love gave to me... *sigh* Please forgive the lame photos, I hope you still sort of get the knack.

Now if you will excuse  me, I have a little bit of sleeping to do to be fit for tomorrow! (bless me, I got 2 tubes of glow in the dark makeup for £1, I'll either die of the most epic rash ever or have the coolest complexion known to man. Maybe both.) Stay tuned, if you feel so inclined, for the chandelier reveal :)

It's not easy being green!

So we survived another weekend of minion infestation. Took 'em to the park, and a good time was had by all.
Who am I kidding? We had a blast!! The weather was awesome, the kids were on their absolute best behaviour, and it turns out that a walk in the woods is about a gazillion times more entertaining than the TV, the PC, and any random heap of plastic ever deemed a toy. This will be a (kinda) crafty post, but please let me show off the babes!

There were football hooligans, imaginary dogs, bear caves and ancient graves. Take that, Playstation, Wii and Cartoon Channel!

Anyway.

I figured that with my Mums' visit approaching fast, I better get my behind into gear and tackle the worst disaster areas in the house. Pretty much the first thing that come to mind is the fungus farm in the bathroom. It hasn't seen a lick of paint since we moved in, and mould is spreading like there is no tomorrow. There is pretty much nothing we can do about it- the house is old, the room is badly ventilated and the paint that graces the walls at the moment was, I suppose the cheapest on the market.
So we went all out and bought a bucket of "lime crush"- yes, "lime crush". My choice. In my first flat, I was still a teenager, I had a green "wet cell", and it sort of tickled my fancy. Wanna see the disaster zone I'm talking about? Behold- our poor bathroom!

I had a few brush strokes to test it, and I guess I can live with the colour. As long as it's not mould green, I'm all for it!


I intend to take down the shelves you see in the picture. All they do is steal light! Honestly, if I wanna slap on some make- up, I have to do it somewhere else because for the love of mascara I can't see what I'm doing in that bathroom mirror.
But that means the wall is going to be empty. And there is nothing worse than an empty wall, right?

Say hello to my new earring organizers!!

No tutorial needed for these bad boys. Have a look:

All I did was adhere some fabric to cardboard I cut to size to fit the frames (this way I can keep the original backing in case I get tired of organizing my bling!), added some wire to one of them, some crocheted flowers (please check Mandys blog for the super- easy tutorial, the green flower is my first ever and not at all bad, if I may say so!) to the other, stuck some of my shinies to them and there they are, ready to grace the new lime crush- coloured walls.

Unfortunately, the daylight disappeared before I could take pictures, so the colours look a tad (very) odd. In reality, they actually match, and I'm hoping they'll look ok on the wall, once it's done.
What I shall need now is a solution for my necklaces, but I think that a few twigs and white spray paint might help me out.

Stay tuned, I have a hunch my next post will involve paint, brushes and a lot of green!

Love y'all, hope you had a great weekend.

This one goes out to the one(s) I love!

Guys,
I apologize for the lack of posts. Let's just say that liquid and laptop keyboards are a less than perfect match!
I am posting this from The Mans' laptop, late at night while he's serenely snoozing away in bed. Bless him!
My recent inability to actively participate in the blogland community left me feeling slightly guilty and immensely handicapped. So many wonderful posts, comments and ideas I would have loved to answer! Eeek.
But for the time being, I shall have to remain quiet until my keyboard is fixed. Thankfully, my laptop works justfine, minus the keyboard! It'll be fixed soon, but until then, it's quiet time.
While I have the reign over The Mans' laptop, though, I would like to introduce you to a couple of peeps you have seen, yet not properly met before. I promise this is not going to be a photo blog (in fact, I am hoping to be able to present you with a ridiculously easy Anthro knock- off soon), but in my book, there are things that need to be put out in the open.

I mean, WHAT??? See the big guy doing an obscene gesture? And see the wee guy laughing his big head off at it? And don't get me started on the princess wearing shades way too small for her. She actually prides herself in needing glasses in teenager sizes because, and I quote, "a big brain needs room". Darn right it does, my little Viking queen. Her namegiving, not mine.

The Viking queen, as you might recognize, is Abigail, 8 years old. She is hard as nails, soft as dough and pretty as a spring flower. She is NOT a lady. She never will be, and I love every hair on her head. If I ever had a daughter, I would wish for her to be a lot like Abi. Clever, funny, caring. I got her and her lil' brother a Kinder surprise egg on Saturday, and after she cracked hers open, she immediately offered me half of the chocolate. What a girl, peeps. What a girl!

The big guy in the middle... I will not bore you with details. All that counts for me is that he loves me, the kids and the cats (VERY important for me) from the bottom of his heart. He has zero manners (obscene gesture?), cares zero for what people might think and has the most creative mind I have ever encountered. His cooking skills are unrivalled and he looks, well, INTERESTING wearing nothing but an apron Just trust me on that-further proof found on my Facebook.

Have you noticed how happy the little guy on the right looks? Aaron, 4 years old and the master of the whingy voice. "...but... I am a goooooooooooooood boy!" Yeah, man, you are, and a bloody pain in the behind! This little fellow can crack you up at the drop of a hat. He does not WALK down steps, he'll slide down the steps on his behind. Panicky adults will only increase his pleasure. He's perfectly able to wipe his bum, pull up his pants and sort himself out, but there seems to be nothing more pleasing than a shrill shriek " Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" (yeah, it hurts, doesn't it?) and the world is at his disposal. But look at that smile, even I, certified Ebenezer Scroogesse, can't growl. His main feature is the incredible ability to take apart every £30 Transformer he encounters and turn it into an interesting heap of scrap plastic, keeping adults entertained for hours on end, trying to fix the unfixable.
For some obscure reason, he calls me "weird" and "Womble". I think I like him.

Anyway, so much for today, this is as close as this blog will ever get to a Mommy blog. I'm no Mommy, just a victim of circumstance and dang happy with it! And in case you picked up upon wee man and big man wearing the same odd outfit- they are Croatia football (soccer) tops. I have a relatively large collection of tops The Man likes to wear, and I happened upon the tiny version in the charity shop. Don't they look awesome together? I suggested to Abi she get a Croatia top, but she objected, she reckons us girls need to stick together. Hello Kitty it is, then!

Love y'all, please stay tuned for my Anthro knock- off earring tutorial. Have yourselves a good time!

Let me tell you about face paint.

Face paint creates joy. It creates disguises. It creates art. It creates a helluva lot of mess.
But most of all, it creates photo opportunities.

Do you guys happen to know Terry Pratchett? He is my favourite author EVER, and I proudly claim this after spending my teenage years buried under Stephen King books. IT still bloody scares me.
Anyway, Terry Pratchett. Without taking you too far into it, let me just tell you that, amongst a world of other stuff, he wrote about a bunch of pictsies (sic) called the Nac Mac Feegle, otherwise known as the Wee Free Men.

They look like this:

Okay, keep this in mind.
Now... The man has started playing a game on Facebook called CastleAge. Like many games on FB, it is a bit like "the more, the merrier", which means you end up with loads of friends playing it, too.
The man created a "guild" within the game, calling it "Wee Free Men", as I have infected him a little bit with the Pratchett bug.
Do you follow so far, or is it just tumbleweed being blown across my blog?
He promised his guild members that if they achieved a certain goal, he would turn into a Nac Mac Feegle.
If you remember the post title- here's where the face paint comes in.

Feegle:

The Man:

Okay, so this is the first half of my post on face paint.

The second half is dedicated not to The Man, but his beautiful offspring, Abi.
She came 'round this weekend to spend some quality time, terrify the cats, make our ears bleed and get her face painted. Err.

Daddy introduced her to the wonderful world of CastleAge (no, she does NOT spend any time on Facebook yet!) and decided to turn her into one of the games' characters, Lotus Ravenmoore.

This is how it went:

In the last few pictures, Abigail (who is 8 and one of the most gorgeous kids you could imagine, inside and out) wears my furry coat, a charity shop belt and a scythe plus clawy glove her dad made for her.
The whole thing cost about £2.50 for the face paint and zero for the costume.

Heck, guys, this is a normal days' work. Can you imagine the terrors that await this blog at Hallowe'en??
I did not edit out any of the horrors of our living room, just so you know. Yes, there are bare mustard- coloured floor boards and yes, the mantelpiece and shelves could do with decluttering. But I wouldn't want our life any other way, mustard floor boards and all.

So go on, give your little ones a lick of paint. You might enjoy yourself even more than they do, for the price of a fashion magazine that'll be outdated before the next issue comes out.