Medieval Stocks

No, I am not referring to the stock market, to chicken stock or whatever else you may have been thinking.  This… was fun.  We had a fancy dress event for work a few years back and the theme was absolutely wonderful.  We had a medieval theme.  Something we could really have fun with. Something with options. I immediately had the idea of dressing up as a medieval captive. To make the stocks however would be challenging at best. I had no idea where to begin.

I chatted with my husband regarding making it work, but he also could not come up with any ideas on how to make the stocks look real, or even what to use. At work, I chatted with a trusted colleague (fancy dress ideas are confidential and serious business you know!) who immediately said I should use foamalite. Well, the flashing bulb above my head suddenly shone brightly. He flicked on the switch. I went digging through the disposal items in our basement and found a heap of foamalite that would work quite nicely.

Since the foamalite was mostly strips, blocks and smaller pieces. I had to somehow get the things to stick together.  Needless to say… glue did nothing! I used packaging tape (ah the wonderful inventions of modern times) to keep the pieces together.  Once I had two blocks of appropriate size, I cut out the head and arm pieces. I once again sealed the open bits with tape.

I was left with an ugly piece of taped together foamalite. Oh well, a good starting point at least. I bought a self adhesive plastic coated roll of wood coloured paper and wrapped the foamalite. I was left with edges that simply wouldn’t look authentic. I used a large strip over those edges and made several cuts to glue down. I used velcro to keep the edges together; which had the added benefit of making removal easy.

The end result was an authentic looking medieval stock. The feedback on it was overwhelming. People loved it and my husband, Waldo, got into the spirit by dressing as a medieval executioner, with me as his prisoner. Tell me you see the endless options here?

It was remarkably easy to put together and today, I refuse to part with it.

 

Tangled Trinkets

I love semi precious stones. In fact, I love them so much; I have hordes of necklaces made out of them. Things I make myself, things I buy, things I get as gifts. Semi precious stones here there and everywhere. I have this stunning hand carved wooden box I received as a gift when I was a teenager, which holds all my jewelery. As you can well guess… they became so tangled that I was unable to wear them. I would take out one necklace and pull out another five or six. I have always loved those jewellery trees, but simply did not have the money to go out and spend a fortune on something (those are so overpriced – it’s shocking!) So what to do, I love my necklaces, earrings, bracelets and rings, but could never find them!

Well, scrounging in my hobby boxes, an assortment of broken things, beads, lace, ribbons, stones, shells and whatever I could not bear to part with (yes, corny I know, but I always find what I need in there!), I found just what I needed!

I took a piece of superwood (which was used as placemats at some event – I have like ten of these) 30cm x 30cm and approximately 1 cm in thickness. I covered it in marble contact paper, but it still looked so bland. So out came the hobby box again… Ah, glass pebbles, off course! I laid out a rough design and played around with it until I liked it. I glued this down with hobby glue and allowed it to dry. Not having a great variety of hooks, I improvised using nails, screws, pins, hooks and whatever else I could scrounge up.

Using the decorated piece of wood as a starting point, I tried screwing in the hooks and hammering the nails. Tried; being the operative word here. Ever tried manipulating superwood? Yeah, you go try and come back to me in a few days!

Okay, not being one to give up, I came up with a solution. Despite my lack of proper tools, I did get a brain (I can prove it too, I have scans of it!) Okay, I would take a sturdy nail and hammer it a few times, after this I would take the nail out (boy, this was fun…not) Then I would twist the screw in, I would remove it and then place my hooks etc.

Needless to say my first attempt was less than stellar. The hooks were not lined up, the hooks did not match, in fact, it looked severely home-made… Oh, but it did the job so I loved it.

Now off course, being forewarned, I had to try again (I’m such a sucker for punishment!) The next one was done pretty much the same though; I used the marble paper again and used some dried flowers and leaves to decorate. I used clear contact plastic to seal in the flowers and protect it from wear and tear. By this time I have gone to buy the proper equipment (off course) I measured out the hooks (yeah I know, I didn’t do this the first time around) Nailed and screwed in the holes and screwed in the hooks. Boy, now I was impressed, it looked great – still distinctly home-made, but I loved that too.

 Casey fell in love with it and immediately found a place for it, hung her necklaces and called me to inspect it. Don’t you just love kid’s enthusiasm? My husband went “hmm, seems useful” What a deflating moment. Well, once again, not one to give up on getting the “whoa” factor, I set out and made another one. I got nicer hooks, I used beautiful paisley paper and sealed it again with contact paper. It was the crown jewel of home-made. I gave this to my mother-in-law (whom I adore, fortunately) and she loved it. No WOW though… Oh well, at least I was impressed! (in retrospect, I might as well have spent the money on the jewellery tree… I have spent more on getting all the tools, hooks and pretty paper )

 

Casey the Clown

Schools just love making moms squirm, don’t they?  Well, another challenge, another day, another dress-up. This time: clowns. I barely suppress a shudder as I start this project. Once again, we have little time, we have to use what we have and guess what? I go overboard again!

I took an old flat sheet and cut out a rough pattern for a very wide bell bottom type pants. I used a pair of pants as a template off course and just widened the pant legs. After a disastrous sewing expedition, I eventually ended up with a pair of white wide pants. I have no idea how to do it again though, so don’t even ask! It was one of those miracles that happens once in a lifetime…

I took a tall glass and painted red circles on the bottom of the glass and used it as a stamp.  I followed a rough zig-zag pattern. I then did the same thing with blue paint.  While the large spots were drying, I filled in the gaps with a juice bottle’s round cap (you know those ones you get in the lunch box?) I used the cap as a stamp as well, alternating between blue and red.  Having perfect round spots as a template, I coloured this in properly with the fabric paint, taking care with the round edges.

Leaving the one side to dry overnight, I then repeated the process on the other side.

I snipped out a rough tie out of the most horrific orange paisley without stitching the edges.

The mask was probably the easiest though. As my daughter inherited my sensitive skin, face paint is simply not an option. Instead of struggling with applying it correctly, washing it off and repairing the damage, I Googled. Yes, oh wonderful internet! I found this wonderful clown mask off a site I can’t even remember. Printed it, laminated it and cut it out. I punched holes where the dots were indicated and threaded thin white material elastic through to keep it on her head.

Next was a relic from the Netherlands team spirit for the Soccer World Cup, AKA, a bright orange wig. Dad’s shoes, a green polo neck, an old rattle bracelet and the outfit was complete.

 

John Daly Golf Day

For those not in the know, he is a famous exhibitionist golfer. If you had no idea, don’t worry, before this, neither did I!

A colleague who I love dearly asked me to help him with the theme for their golf day, which as the title suggests; is a dress-alike John Daly golf day. I spent days on this and you will see why shortly. It was definitely worth it, he looked like a million bucks!

I started with dyeing an old pair of chinos (after I repaired a small holeJ) bright yellow.  This was a failure the size of Cape Town! The dye did not take on the prepared fabric. It left mustard yellow streaks!  Boy was I ever disappointed!

After this I sketched out the main pattern and painted the outline with black fabric paint. I had to leave it to dry overnight, but could add the colour paint the following evening.

After again leaving it to dry, I started with the shading (this took several coats of orange and yellow which I blended with a brush to get the look right.  I added layer after layer for the overall effect. Word of caution to those who wish to try this, if you layer the paint the top layers wash off! Yes, I had to redo most of it due to my idiocy. I have no words.

The time I spent on this was completely worth it though; it was by far my best work.

Back of Pants

 

Mother Earth

Okay, dressing up for earth day… what to do, what to do? Oh, off course, go as Mother Earth. Literally. This was quite a mission, all the trial and error at least. The actual making of it was so simple I felt like an idiot for not trying this first.

Making the belly:

I printed a few colour pictures of earth, as seen from space (ah, space! okay, I’m focused again…I think) I carefully cut these out and put these to one side. I then put an old pillow’s stuffing in a plastic carrier bag and pushed and prodded until it was flat on the one side and nice and round on the other. I pasted the pictures down so a perfect picture was at the front and just filled in the gaps at the sides with other pictures. I took clear plastic and just covered it, taping it closed at the back (the part against my stomach off course)

Now I was faced with a dilemma… or three.  How do I attach my stomach, how do I keep it in place and how do I soften the harsh glow of the plastic. Well, by killing two birds with one stone off course! I took off my laptop bag’s straps for the day and taped it onto the back. It still would not keep the stomach in place though. So I took a pair of chiffon stretch pajamas and put it on over the stomach. It made the earth appear matte and I was able to tuck it into my skirt, keeping the pregnant belly just where I wanted it. I was very happy with the result! I threw a green t shirt on and pulled it up to have the belly hang out at the bottom. Ta-Da!

 

Cinderella slippers

Casey (my eight year old daughter) was instructed by her school to dress up according to her favourite fairy tale.  As usually is the case, we find out a few days before the time and are only supposed to use items we have in the house to make/improvise an outfit. So what do I do? Go overboard off course!

I dressed her up in a knee-length blue evening dress with hand-sewn beads (a stunning piece of WHOA) and made a pair of glass slippers. *Smirks in great self importance* Yeah okay, so it wasn’t glass and wasn’t all that great.  I took two sheets of laminating plastic (which I ran through the laminator without any paper between the sheets. So I had two pieces of clear, strong, flexible  plastic. I cut these into two triangles for the front part. I used a pair of her shoes as a template for the soles and cut these out of old mouse pads. (I used two layers for each shoe sole) I then folded the hard plastic over the first layer of the sole and secured this with contact plastic. I had to immediately glue the second sole over it as it kept pulling apart. Which it continued to do (off course!) until I stitched the two soles together with the plastic in between.  I then decorated the edge with a thin purple feather boa which I raided off an old dressing gown. I secured this with silicone which had the added benefit of covering up all the sharp edges. I was very impressed with these slippers until the next day. She came home with blisters on her toes from chafing against the plastic! Wow, did I feel like the worst mom ever!

 

The Katalina Blog Challenge #1: Who Do I Think I Am?

The city was built on the only land did not have electro-magnetic tectonic plates. It was the only place that any form of technology would work at all. As a result, it was highly sought after, and a war has been brewing for ages over who would have the rights to this land. Her people were currently the strongest power, but she, like so many others, had to serve in the army to defend that right.

Sighing, she grabbed her helmet.  It was time.  She had so much left to do and already it was time.  She was wearing the archaic armour that was the only protection that had any effect outside the city gates. As she was leaving the front door of her humble house, helmet underneath her arm, the early morning sun glanced off her golden brown hair.  She had to squint her green eyes at the sudden brightness.  She was slightly photophobic, which apparently means light sensitive. In her case it also meant very afraid of having her photograph taken! The flash was very unkind to her pale cheeks that could turn red in the blink of an eye, in fact, it was more often red than pale! She hated that fact but hated make up more, so what the heck, right?

Digging in her bag for a smoke, she shook her head at herself again, another bad habit that she had to break, but she would when she was ready.  All she really wanted to do was to be an artist, to write and to paint, to dream… Yet, here she was, again leaving the humble home she loved to fight the good fight. She loved the archaic armour, the Damascus steel sword in her right hand; it allowed her to dream of times gone by. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to do, but someone had to do the donkey work, right?

She was a family girl at heart. Loved her husband, loved her daughter, loved her friends, and so the sacrifices she made to her personal wants was justified. Being a procrastinator of note, this allowed her to keep putting off her creative work, she had to work, had to keep things going, had responsibilities and duties to perform.

There was always time to do the things she loved; she just avoided it, but why? Was life really easier just keeping things going, taking things a day at a time?  She sighed to herself and clocked in at work, greeted the other soldiers…

Reminded again that they were so much better at it than her, she felt frustrated by her own inability to make a difference to the bigger picture. If only she were smarter, stronger, funnier, wittier… People would like her more, would respect her.

She felt silly almost immediately for undermining her self-confidence like that, but these habits are so hard to break. She shook her head and remembered, her husband found her as a broken wild kitten that had lived on instinct for so long, that all she could do to allow herself to feel would be to rip out his heart and feed it to him. With patience and dedication and unwavering loyalty he broke that shell and reminded her of her true destiny. The one that involved faith, love, creativity and perseverance. Smiling, she put the helmet on, and left the safety of home behind, shielding herself from harsh blows and life altering mediations, she waved her sword strategically, cutting through the dark parts of her soul. She had faith, she had love, she had creativity and by all that was good and holy, she would persevere.

 

My friends are my real family

I have only recently realized something. Not greatly profound, but something that has been whispering at the back of my head and suddenly started shouting because I have not been paying attention. I try really hard to fit in sometimes, wanting people to like me and accept me the way I am. I am unique, just like everyone else is, which means that we are all special and because of this none of us are. Yeah well, I lost myself there too.

I am probably difficult to place because of my interests. They vary from Star Trek to out of sync martial arts movies, you know those ones where the lips move and the words come afterward? My music tastes range from Elvis to Queen to DKM and CCR. I like many different things that have nothing to do with each other. My clothing depicts this as well. I can leave the house looking like a runway model, a business exec or a surfer chick, it really depends on my mood. I don’t have something that I can say truly defines me. I love swords, and know what Damascus steel is, but in contrast I can tell you about the warp 5 engine in the Enterprise NX01. I can get annoyed by how technology controls us and wish to break away, but I can love computers and tv and hot water. I love all these things and it works for me.

This doesn’t mean that you have to like me or accept me as I am. If your life is lived with structure and aligned interests, or if you have opposing interests and a complex balance between opposites, whatever works for you is after all the best for you.

I can’t fit in everywhere and it would be foolish to try. I have a place that is mine, a home with my real family. I was told once that you get to choose your friends, but you are stuck with your family. Well, I have made my friends my family, because I wish to be stuck with them. The best part is, they feel the same. I was sick as a dog, but my presence was missed and my friends came over to fetch me. I spent most of the night sleeping on a friend’s bed, and that was okay.

With my family I get to be the trekkie that likes rugby, I can talk religion with Christians and still be pagan, I can sing along to Queen and dance to Lady Gaga and Pink. I can vote with the boys on movie night and watch girly movies on girls nights. It’s okay for me to be different there because my being different is what defines me. I am not building a one picture puzzle, I am living a collage.

 

Gravy Train

Proudly South African; yes I am. We have so much to offer the world. Despite this fact I promised myself that every blog will not be based on SA pride, and yet, here we are! I have just received another email with goods for sale. Truly South African entrepreneurship!
You can barely open an email these days without a picture of some new item for sale, all based on the Soccer World Cup. From arm warmers to car mirror socks, from corporate sponsored Soccer support jerseys to pens, teddy bears, key chains, limited edition pendants and so much more. I have to admit, as cute as Zakumi is, my favourite has to be the arm warmers. They are practical, reusable, and utterly adorable (err, in a really practical, manly sense – sorry boys!)
You have to hand it to my countrymen, they know how to make a quick buck! I am utterly astonished at their ingenuity, creativity and sometimes, pure desperation. Unfortunately some unwise investors have already lost large amounts of money, hoping for a ride on the latest gravy train. There hasn’t been such scrambling since the 1885 Gold Rush!
I have spoken to so many people that are planning something or another, renting out a room in their house, renting out a granny flat, making bracelets out of South African shells, gemstones, beads etc. I must say, I never realized my countrymen could be so enterprising! Or should I say, exploitative. To quote a phrase from Star Trek, Exploitation begins at home. Well readers, our people are far cleverer than anyone gives them credit for!
I for one can’t wait to buy a decent pair of SA arm warmers (for those cold days you know!) Just imagine; now, that skimpy top is a go! The best part is that we get to keep these arm warmers for every sport! They’ll go really nicely with a Springbok t-shirt, don’t you think?

 

Stiff Competition

Having lived for a quarter century plus has certain advantages. One: You still occasionally believe you are always right. Two: The world is out to get you, not the other way round. Three: Having your opinion be respected is really important. Now this may not seem advantageous, but let me tell you…
If you believe you are always right, you automatically create the second advantage: being a victim. That’s so much easier isn’t it? If you’re a victim, then you really are powerless to change anything. If you are afraid your opinion will be shot down, you can always keep your mouth shut and the cycle starts all over again. You don’t have to be proved wrong after all because you never open your mouth to begin with. Ah, to lie to your self is really convenient.
Well, however long this current insight will last, I guess I should share this with someone, before I completely chicken out! I do not like sharing opinions in general as I, like so many other closet case opinion rookies, really can’t stand criticism. Strange, as I have had so much experience with criticism! Oh wait… that’s why!
It’s easy to lie to yourself and say that you don’t care about another person’s opinion, but at the end of the day, that’s why you’re keeping your mouth shut, isn’t it? I read somewhere, many years ago, that diplomacy is the skill to send someone to hell in such a way that they actually look forward to the trip. I never believed this, but reevaluation really is a bitch, or at the very least; a very unpleasant cat that sneaks into your house to steal your cat’s food and urinate on your curtains.
I was reading several comments of friends and acquaintances on Facebook regarding the Super 14 rugby semi finals, and found myself giving a really nasty comment, borne of irritation and anger. The strange thing is, I support my team, same as the rest, but I generally don’t care enough about other opinions to let them phase me. I guess this has been building up for some time, and national pride, something completely unfamiliar to me, snuck up and bit me in the… well, you get the idea.
I lost you didn’t I? Well, allow me to explain. The World Cup (Soccer, for those who don’t know) Will be held in South Africa shortly, indeed, kick off is just around the corner. National pride snuck into my country and infected more people than the common flu. Unfortunately, some people had their flu shots and proudly wear the colours of countries they know nothing about, have never visited and wouldn’t be able to point out on a map! Their support is due to past successes, gorgeous hunks of meat (aka rock hard abs) or other indeterminate blah blah blah. Oh, and the fact that our national team has not done well in the past is a factor for some.
The problem is also racism. Whilst my country has made leaps and bounds in that department, becoming tolerant of other cultures and races, hatred and fear has been a constant companion for most of my countrymen. They were either at the receiving end of decades of oppression and hate crimes, or they were the ones delivering the blows and feel the world has turned upside down, corruption has seeped in and our leaders are clueless puppets or children given the trigger for a nuclear bomb. Sadly, both sides are right. Corruption is rife, but with free speech we finally know about it. Some of our leaders really are idiots, but then, I believe most politicians are to a certain extent. And absolute power corrupts absolutely.
All that being said, our country has changed from a brutal blunt instrument, to a delicate machine of incredible beauty. Throw a spanner in the works and you will see sparks! If we can’t support our own country, despite the rough patches, we’ll never be considered for anything better. After all, if we don’t have the bad times, we will never recognize the good times… but I digress.
A Facebook friend summed up my country’s attitude to rugby in a few choice words. Life is a game, Rugby is serious. Indeed. Competition between the South Africa teams can be extreme. Despite the fact that the Springboks are made up out of players from all the teams playing in the Super 14, the hatred of opposing teams can be severe. A Stormers supporter (for example) would never support the Blue Bulls. They would rather support another country’s team against the Blue Bulls. This, my friends, is the crux of the matter. I support any South Africa team against another country, but having lived in Blue Bulls country for a rather large portion of my life, I am a Blue Bulls supporter. The fact that my friends and colleagues would rather support a New Zealand team than an upcountry team, rubbed me on the raw! If I could hiss and spit like a cat without adding to my increasing laugh lines (one of the drawbacks of being a quarter century survivor) and making a complete fool of myself, I would have.
My theory was simple. In the semi finals the two winning teams would face each other, right? Well, wouldn’t an SA final be preferable to matching our strength against an Aussie or NZ? Off course it would be! Surely this indicates the strength of our players?! No, some of these people would rather support New Zealand (by the way, can they point to it on a map?) than their upcountry counterparts. I mentioned, being a Blue Bull off course, that we smell their fear, it excites us, and we will meet them in the final. Ah, Stormers pride! I truly believe they are looking forward to making me eat my words, but that’s a story for another day!
In closing, my countrymen, I would like to add: I believe our boys will do us proud in the world cup. Wear your colours, show your support, and remember, we have a secret weapon. Our boys are used to it, not sure if those pretty boys would be able to stomach it… Blow your Vuvuzela!