let it bleed

My morning involved a lot of quality time with a giant sheet of plexiglass, a plexi cutter, a hammer, some pliers, and a lot of cursing and bleeding on things.

However, now I have 1) a plexiglass insert around my window air conditioner 2) a bunch of bloody plexiglass shards on my kitchen floor, and most importantly 3) a hella refreshing shower beer. I tried not to let my hand bleed on it while showering.

Happy Memorial Day, and may your weekend craft projects involve a minimal loss of blood and/or limbs, and maximal crafty enjoyment.

city of win

My newest obsession: jewelry and such from the 1933/34 World's Fair ("A Century of Progress!"- oh man, if I make it to 100 years old, that needs to be the theme of my birthday party in 2082). This was spurred originally by the World's Fair keychain I found antiquing over Christmas, and re-doubled by the lovely and well-accessorized Meredith's visit to Chicago this month and her excellent World's Fair ring, and the subsequent k-hole of internet searches for all manner of commemorative jewelry from the Fair.

Rings:

Bracelets:

It's hard to see here, but the links are emblazoned with the Hall of Science.

Art Deco? Yes? Full wrap-around non-repeating skyline? Yes. 

WITH ZEPPELINS FLYING OVER THE CITY? OH MY GOD YES.

And the best for last: looks like a lovely silver and blue pendant in need of a chain, right? 

But that's not all: it's a motherfucking straight razor. 

Uh huh. I most definitely need that.

velocipedestrienne

Jersey and biking shorts, Borntrager; helmet, Trek; bike, Surly Cross-Check.

A touch different than the usual "worn" posts, but I know DanaMD (to whom photo credit goes as well) is hella proud of my first cyclist lycra purchase.
Also be proud that I woke up at 9:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning to bike to Three Floyds and back fueled by a sleep deficit, pizza, fish and chips, beer, and a significant amount of stubbornness.

to the races

In further cultural appropriations I enjoy making part of my life, for the past five years, I have treated Derby Day like my very own springtime extension of Halloween.
Proof:

(heh, the "proof" is actually 100 for Old Grand-Dad whiskey)

There is almost nothing I won't hot glue to a hat in service of a theme. This year, that included a pint of whiskey (heavier than I expected, but pleasantly more structurally sound than I feared it would be) and fistfuls of fresh mint.

Yes, I did end up eating and drinking my hat by the end of the night. You can't say I wasn't prepared.