Tag Archives: ZOMG!!

Friday Sithy

Oh dear GAWD I want to make this for Halloween one year.

Steampunk Leia. Tell me that’s not awesome. I dare you πŸ˜‰

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In the Eyes of the Beholding Thrift Shop

I was running errands today, enjoying the 1,675% humidity courtesy of the light rain shower this morning. It’s Wednesday, which means local thrift stores have pulled all their hauls from the weekend for sale. Usually I can find something fun like a pretty glass or tea cup. Those items are pretty easy to recognize. But sometimes I am flabbergasted at how some stuff gets identified.

I was perusing a beautiful dry sink (identified as a “table with drawer”) that was way out of my price range when my eyes alighted on the item inside the bottom shelf.

Pretty, no? And I bet most of you can tell it is a chamber pot. To be precise, an antique Staffordshire porcelain chamber pot in almost perfect condition. No chips, no cracks, and the gilt is almost like new with very few exceptions.

I have a thing for orchids* and I loved the design. You can’t really tell, but the design is outlined in brown and filled in with gold. It hardly had any scratches inside. It was immaculate!

I took it to the front desk to check out and the lady running the register remarked on it. Hilarity ensued.

Cashier: Oh, so happy someone is taking this bowl home. It’s so pretty.

Me: Bowl?

Cashier: Yes, the owner called it a fruit and salad bowl.

Me: A salad bowl??

Cashier: Yes….why?

Me: This is a chamber pot.

Cashier: ………….

Me: ………….

*both of us burst out laughing*

So you see, it’s always a question of angles. One person saw the item in a different way, for a different use. And interpretation, like beauty, is always in the eye of the beholder.

I just hope the previous owner never served food in it. To anyone πŸ˜€

*I have a thing for most flowers, really, but orchids remind me of home.


Thursday Sithy

I’ve been trying to post everywhere I blog all morning, and come to realize that my main blog is the one I neglect the most. When my sources of amusement include going to the thrift store and finding substitutes for everything I gave up for Lent, you know I have a boring life. So here’s a Sithy to tide you over for a bit.

darth vader polish statue

I can’t tell you how much I ❀ Poland!!

Have a great day πŸ˜‰


When I Was Your Age…

While helping Son get squared away at school, we got acquainted with his peers, as well as his command. Walking around the school, talking with other students about campus life when some dudes were running around questing for fire was a lot of fun, and they were surprised at the many changes that had occurred since we had matriculated. The biggest change was of course, Bonfire. And then it happened.

“Back when I was your age….” I sighed, and stopped.

Oh. Dear. GAWD!!!

I keep catching myself saying that phrase more often now, along with “back in my day”. I’m not even 50 years old and feel the need to have a shawl and a cane at my disposal when I say those phrases. Little One comes up to me to ask if she can get some high heels for a dance and I spew it out like an incantation. “Back in MY day, we wore flats and LIKED IT!!” Never mind she has flats and sneakers. I have to fly off the handle like some deranged wild hag. Yesterday I was at the grocery store and a young gal asked me where to find the wine mixer cocktails. I asked her what those were and after she explained, I said, “Back in my day, we called those wine coolers”, to which she replied, “why??” I told her to check on the aisle across from the beer fridge and departed, feeling my hair turn a whiter shade of appalled.

That’s it. I am NOT going to say those phrases anymore. I refuse to go down the path of my forefathers in this regard. From now on I will be more mindful of being repetitive. I will strive to be a bit more worldly as I impart my wisdom to the younger crowds.

Henceforth, I will say:”When I was very, very young….”

Because that makes me sound like a wise storyteller, and not like a sour, prickly crone πŸ˜€


Humming Along Again

This past Sunday, I got the urge to commit some floracide, so Hubby and I headed to the local home improvement and garden store to get some grass seed and some plants willing to sacrifice themselves to the Sith way of gardening. I am partial to calla lilies and petunias for containers but the lilies tend to be pricey, so I was going to settle for marigolds instead. And taking a turn towards them, Hubby discovered a damsel in distress.

hummingbird

Poor wee thing was on the floor by the marigolds, looking exhausted after battling the early morning storm, most likely. First order of business was to gather her up and cradle her to get her warm. So while I chose my sacrificial flora over in the clearance section, he walked around warming her up and rousing the curiosity of customers. Once my victims were chosen and paid for, we then journeyed over to the pet store to get a hummingbird feeder. We needed to replace the one that broke during a previous storm, and also needed snake food. Two birds with one stone (Bada BING!!). After the clerks oohed and ahhed over the hummingbird, we went home and set up some nectar and then ensconced her in the master bathroom with it.

This is where I left the house to go get some stuff at the antique store. This is also when hilarity ensued.

Hubby (via text): The hummingbird is gone.

Me (via panic): *calls home* What?? Define “gone”!!

Hubby: Well, we can’t find her in the bathroom.

Me: Oh, thank goodness. She’s probably hiding in the floral swag over the window.

Hubby: Wait….no, she was behind the toothbrush holder.

Me: I’m on my way home, so don’t lose her again!

Once home, I joined the rescue party going on around my shower stall, where the bird was sipping on her new-found manna from heaven. She was showing signs of recovery as she flitted about, so we left Hubby to catch her so he could release her outside. As he brought her out we noticed her recovery was complete, listening to her annoyed chirps while cradled gently in his hand. Once outside on the patio, he opened his hand slowly to let her get adjusted. She tried out her wings, and flitted around him before taking off over the trees.

It was a wonderful Sunday, and one spent catering to one of the least of us. I hope she is out and about enjoying the day, telling her friends where to find some awesome nectar, and that we puny humans aren’t as bad as they think πŸ˜€


The Best Way to Enjoy Snow

Well, best way to enjoy it outside of admiring it from afar, like in a photograph,while on vacation in Fiji.

My sister Reno Queen posted a delicious cocktail recipe on the social-site-with-faces last week that had me drooling. Being raised in Puerto Rico, I have a deep love and respect for the humble coconut, so I am overjoyed to post her contribution to my Pinterest Mixology board.

sex on the snow bank cocktail

Sex On The Snow Bank

  • 6 Large ice cubes
  • 1Β½ oz Malibuβ„’ rum
  • 3 Tbsp. Cream of coconut
  • Shredded coconut, for garnish

Put all ingredients save the shredded coconut in a blender, and blend until smooth. Pour into a cocktail glass (martini as shown is pretty) and garnish with some shredded coconut flakes. You can also rim the glass with the flakes but it can be overkill, not to mention a bit messy.

You can try this on the rocks instead and call it a K-12. Just don’t forget the TWO DOLLARS.

Sometimes I amaze myself πŸ˜‰


Nothing Is Ever Lost

As usual, I have big plans. BIG plans. The kind of plans that require hiring some movers for a day.

I’m a dynamo but even I have limits, especially when it comes to moving a sleeper sofa down a flight of stairs.

Over the course of the next month, I will be moving Son upstairs into his own domain. He will now have his own bathroom, gaming area, study area and a nice full sized bed. Oh, and his own closet. Because he has a loft bed, the only room that had the high ceiling to accommodate it is the study, which has no closet. So, he was using the hallway closet to throw all his clothes and shoes hang up his stuff. This is how he felt when I informed him of my plan:

freddie mercury meme

Anyway, in the course of preparing the upstairs for his eventual move, I decided to start organizing all of my craft stuff, as I have been intending to do for the past year. Look, it is a certain fact that messy people are very creative, and I tend to live up to that standard. As I began to organize my clutter, I began to “find” things which I had “lost”.

  • Two pairs of earrings
  • My mom’s old brooch
  • Our tickets to the 2006 World Cup Semifinal match between Italy and Ukraine*
  • Four jars of gesso
  • One pair of socks
  • Several graduation announcements of family members
  • A coffee mug
  • Three hair clips and two scrunchies
  • My stash of 80’s cassettes

(* Yes, we had tickets to the semifinal match. Unfortunately, we also had non-refundable tickets to Paris, and since we were leaving for the US the following Tuesday, Paris won out. Before anyone freaks out, I offered to give up the trip to Paris for Hubby, and he decided that it would be more fun to tour Paris than to sit in a crowded stadium. So there.)

I had no idea I had so many jars of gesso. I suppose I kept thinking I had used it up and went out to get more. But I was elated to find my mom’s old brooch. I remember her wearing it to special occasions when I was little. I thought I had lost it in the move back to the US and had mourned its loss. And imagine my surprise to find my stash of cassettes. CASSETTES, PEOPLE!! There is something so satisfying about listening to a cassette that you have played so often, it is warped. Yes, I still have cassette players, and even a turntable. And now I have an urge to go listen to Warrant and Def Leppard. I’ll even wear a scrunchie while I blast “Animals” on the cassette player while I finish cleaning my craft area.

Who knows? Maybe I’ll find myΒ UHF videocassette πŸ˜€


Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’ the Pompitus of Love

Last night we enjoyed attending the Journey/ Steve Miller Band concert. And by “enjoyed”, I mean I went insane.

It all started with one of Eldest’s good friends asking if we wanted to buy tickets her parents had. Turned out these tickets were for the private box seats. This was the view above my seat.

spurs banners

I know, I know… haters will hate. Tower of Power opened, followed by The Steve Miller Band, and ending with Journey. I must say Mr. Miller still looks like a badass in his shades. Watching him took me back to those first years here in the US, when I first heard of this “Rock and Roll” stuff. As iconic as it was to see those majestic Pegasuses flanking the band, it was nothing compared to their Jet Airliner backdrop. It was classic 70’s styling, in a Peter Max kind of way.

And then it was Journey, and that took me back to high school and made me reminisce on my friends and good times. I admit, Jonathan Cain is still totally drool-worthy, even with the sideburns. What I wouldn’t give to starch the handkerchiefs he uses to wipe his brow. Yes, Neil Schon was there, but he’s not my type. And I can honestly say a certain former member was NOT missed, if you know what I mean. It was an awesome five and a half hours of wonderful music, and I can honestly say this was beyond the scope of any concert I have ever attended. I even got myself a souvenir!

steve miller shirt2

Tickets to see icons: $$$

T-shirt souvenir: $$

Opportunity to act like a fangurl in front of total strangers and not caring: PRICELESS!!!!

But I still don’t know what the Pompitus of Love is πŸ˜‰


How to Have a Spa Experience at Home

Some of y’all know, I am a fan of bubble baths. So I thought I would take the opportunity of sharing my tips for a successful spa day at home.

Dog_Bubble_Bath

First, make sure no one is about to run the dishwasher or the washing machine. Cold water is not your friend. Unless it’s 113* F outside, and only if the cold water has fermented hops in it.

Second, choose the aromatherapy. You can opt for bubble bath, bath oil, candles, whatever makes you feel happy. Be advised that bubbles hinder you when reading, oil makes the tub slippery, and candles can be hazardous to long hair. All three together is only going to end in tears and fried hair.

Third, secure the premises. Sure, locking the front and back doors is fine, but I am talking about securing the bath from pets and kidlets. Nothing more distracting than having to fight your sheltie for bathtub acreage while a kid is asking to help bathe the four-legged sister.

Fourth, keep your robe and towel handy. Nothing worse than taking a hot bath while slathered in a facial mask, only to find that your towel is nowhere near, and your eyes are shut from the sweat having melted the mask down your eyebrows, making you trip out of the tub and faceplant on the carpet.

Fifth, and most important, do not take a single glass of wine into the tub. Bring the bottle. You will find that time really does stand still and there is only so much reading of a crappy novel before you want to drown away the bad taste of some idiotic damsel in distress over a broken nail. Bonus: it helps drown out loud pets, loud kidlets, and loud hubby.

I hope these tips help y’all to have a nice relaxing spa experience at home. If all else fails, you still have the wine πŸ˜‰


Sith Tuesday!!

Today is Mardi Gras, the last day of indulgence before the start of the Lenten season.

Yay!! At least until tomorrow morning.

As y’all know, I go all out for Lent. I give up booze, and junk food, and sweets, and sodas, and fatty foods. This makes for a very cranky Sith Empress for a few days, and then I am back to my normal Death Star-shiny self. One good thing about giving up so much stuff is the lightness of being. By that, I mean the loss of holiday pounds that invariable stick around after the holidays like an unwanted guest.

I’m already looking forward to Easter Sunday.

Courtesy of Intergalactic Krewe of Chewbacchus

Courtesy of Intergalactic Krewe of Chewbacchus

So go and have some fun, and enjoy festivities and drink and food and revelry. Catch some beads and sing along. For tomorrow will come soon enough.

And may your morning be free of nausea and headaches πŸ˜€