WOYWW 153

Julia Dunnit's brilliant What's On Your Workdesk? Wednesday site was the first blog challenge I linked to when I tip-toed into this good and gracious world of cyberfriendly stamping sites.  I've grown to look forward to this Wednesday ritual of reconnecting with folks from all around the world as we peek into each other's craft areas.  So I really missed all of you last Wednesday as I lay in the hospital (see past posts), feeling better and maddeningly unable to visit and comment because the hospital wi-fi was on the fridge, I mean fritz.  One more day in that nuthouse and I would have partook of an archy.

That was then, this is now, and how have you all been?  I've a story for my show and tell this week, as usual.  I'm a talker and it doesn't bother me if most of you don't have time to read it.  Excuse a second, some tears fell into my keyboard.  I was saying, I have fun writing it anyway.  But for those who want a quick-peek-just-inside-can't-come-in-my-shoes-are-dirty-I'll-stay-out-here-gotta-dash-anyway, I wanted to show you two of the adorable cards I received from friends:

From Donna:

From Kathy:

Aren't they great?  If you're clicking off, have a great week!  BTW, having said how much I missed you last week, I should note here that I am leaving next Tuesday on vacation to reunion with my sisters in the great state of Iowa, God willing and the creek don't rise.

Actually, my post should be entitled "What's Above Your Workdesk? Wednesday."  When I moved out of the uninsulated garage, which ran to extremely uncomfortable hot/cold knicker extremes, and into the playhouse, Mister and I splurged on a little wall air conditioner for me.  Aside from being noisy, it's been a joy to behold.

Cept for one little thing.  I do hate to complain amongst (amidst?) all these blessings, Lord knows, but it turns out that when I am sitting in my chair, the top of my head and the bottom of the air flow shooting frigid air straight into the room just perfectly match up.  Picture wasps of my hair flapping in the breeze.  Turns out I have a thing for cold air blowing directly onto my thinning bean.  It's a hate thing.

Mister thought and thought.  He nodded off occasionaly, but to his credit, he mostly thought.  We brainstormed.  It was just really a light sprinkle.  Then he very cleverly decided to buy some plastic acrylic sheets and have them cut, just so, this x that, two at an angle, and he would glue sides A and B to side C and be done with my bagging about it.

Only trouble was, he told the nice lady at the home supply the wrong measurements.  (As a public service, and to save you the trouble, you should know that when that happens, there is apparently a law limiting each household to a specific foot measure of acrylic and you are not allowed to go back to the store and buy the correctly measured product.)  Mister also had trouble finding a glue that would work on Polly Filene Hydrochlorinoid. 

I said, oh, honey, never mind.  How about we buy one of those furnace vent plastic sleeves that direct the air flow into the room?  They are adjustable and I have this strip of magnetic tape, and if we . . . what's that?  Oh, well, sure if you'd rather try and make your pieces that are too small work, stretch and bend unbendable acrylic, and glue your fingers together with this glue that isn't really meant for . . . no, no, you go ahead.  You betcha.

He can be stubborn like that.  He was gonna die trying, I'll give him that, but by Godfrey Daniel, he made it work!  That thin bead (not!) of yellow you see is the glue.  Oh wait, I remember now.  He squeezed every last drop from that tube of glue, lips pulled back in an angry sneer, teeth glenched, eyes wide, as layer upon layer, glue globule upon glue globule, were laid down in such a way that even our pet elephant would not be able to unsunder the seams. 

(I think broken cookies don't have calories, he thinks we have a pet elephant.  I don't judge.)

(And wasn't that mean of me to make you say 'glue globule' twice? It feels like you've got peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth, huh?)

Bless his heart.  And it does work, too.  Now those of you who have clicked on my playhouse picture and come on inside know that I have a Organized Crafting Disease or Ocute Cleanliness Disorder.  So you'll know that my love for Mister runs deep for me to allow this globby schmeary unsightly, but highly effective, invention in my precius space.  It's being patented, too, so don't even think about stealing the idea.

In case you noticed it, here's a closeup of the little sign I have hanging on that wall.  I plan someday to use it as inspiration for a black and white card with lady bugs and hearts (and crazy ladies?).

The twins, before they could read, would ask me every time, what does that say, Bama?  I would read it to them.  Ever have four identical eyeballs stare at you with confusion?  They're older now and I think they are beginning to understand where I'm coming from.

Have a great week!  As always, thank you for stopping by to visit.  Special thanks to you if you take the time to join as a follower or leave a comment!