ornate foulmouth ornately

“Talent hits a target no one else can hit. 

Genius hits a target no one else can see.” (Arthur Schopenhauer)

Sunday around here is Flapjack Day, usually. But living alone this summer has eliminated that as a thing to do because, after all, yogurt and toast are already made.   But today I was feeling nostalgic for waffles and decided to make some that I could freeze and enjoy whenever I want.  I have a manual waffle maker, basically two iron plates that buckle together and you put it on the stove, then, at the appropriate moment, you flip it over to do the second side.  I ordered this thing special so I wouldn't have to have another electrical appliance to store.  Not that I'll be taking this to the woods for the Apocalypse Enforced Forever Camp, but for the gas stove it was a no brainer.  And right, it's perfect because I HAVE NO BRAIN.  I forgot to spray it liberally with slippery stuff and instead of eating a delightful waffle while watching my Sunday 'Dexter' binge, I have spent the last two hours picking bits of waffle out of the little groves where it has plastered itself permanently.  One last thing to carry when I have to run for the safety of the Everglades when the undead are after me.

The squirrel above has the right idea, Eggos.  And that's why this story.

And, an aside, Dexter was making Eggo waffles for his kids today in the second  binging episode.  Such a nice guy...

Yesterday I found out The Container Store opened nearby. I love that place because basically I love organizing and keeping like things together.  I always strive for a semblance of order, and in fact spent most of last summer spray painting a bunch of baskets silver for my new closet.  They look quite wonderful but I ran out of the same type baskets and the organizing came to a screech.  I have enough for small purses and large wraps but need more for small wraps, scarves, winter gloves, hats, etc, and medium purses.  Aint' gonna happen-  I keep looking for similar baskets and even brough home similar, but smaller baskets but they are too small for my shelves, and two big to double up leaving me frustrated and unfulfilled.  OK, I know there are meds for that.

But The Container Store beckoned so off I went. Thankfully I didn't take measurements so hesitated on buying everything I saw willy-nilly.  But today I am taking measurements for those hundred little things that would sooth me (and I might take along on the inevitable camping trip in my future!  What i DID buy is a folding board because in my head, which has nothing whatsoever to do with 'in my reality', I see myself refolding 40 years worth of fabric in the studio so it's all the same size.  Be still my heart.  

I also bought a cart load of tiny little acrylic boxes perfect for sorting tiny seed beads and storing them in the large containers I got at Home Depot.  My kids are so lucky I am doing all this-  it will be like a Hide and Seek for them to go through all this shit mumbling away about my sanity and where oh where did I hide the diamonds and insurance policies.  Know they will love every minute marching this stuff to the dumpster in a fire brigade formation.  

Better than getting bitten by the raccoon teenagers who live there now.  Maybe I should warn them?  Nah.  The hospital is just down the street.

Well now, I must get off and fill 20 or 30 of the little boxes and fold a bit o' fabric for the future.  I haven't quite figured out what to do with it after it's folded-  if I stack it neatly I won't be able to pull out what I need without disturbing the entire stack. If I stick it in sideways I waste half the space.  Guess I will stack it sideways in all my chairs until I figure it out.  THEN I GET TO GO BACK TO THE CONTAINER STORE to buy boxes that the stacks fit in sideways yet can stack on top of each other!  Brilliant.

And I am gonna see if the able maker has soaked long enough now, walk the dogs, and leave.  Maybe I can find a box of waffles for dinner tonight.

ART PART

in honor of Dexter episodes

Abigail Goldman makes miniscule murder scenes. She assembles them from model train sets, minus the actual train. The people—often dismembered, sometimes by a lawn mower or chainsaw—are about the height of a dime, arranged with the help of tweezers and a magnifying glass. The blood is cheap acrylic paint. Itsy-bitsy beat-up cars, dusty desert landscapes, graffiti-marred buildings and weatherworn trailers are backdrops to the tiny worlds of mayhem, where the carnage contrasts with the preciousness of the medium. It’s all contained in a Plexiglass box, and called, appropriately, a Diorama.

The best!