Or maybe just “mad”… (as in cloud cuckoo land crazy).
(by the way, there are two posts today to make up for one I missed last week. Aren’t you thrilled! see below for #2 on the topic of mambos, sambas and wannabe 50s crooners)
The mosaic monster has corrupted me yet again. Last night I made the following after finding some old curry jars in the cupboard:
1. Coffee Mug with Cozy
Curry sauce by Pataks (we are very fond of curry in a hurry in the JB household).
Up Close and Personal
The sleeve is made with Sari Silk gifted me by Holly as a surprise in an American chip gift pack. I thought it fit well with the curry theme. The buttons are vintage, 1940s. Fancy beads from Michaels craftstore.
Hopefully the household dishwashing job was better than usual. If not, I may get to sample the unique taste of vindaloo coffee this morning at the desk. Talk about “world coffee”!!
2. Paean to the Boygirl Goddess
A really fancy name for a pen holder which will hopefully help me restore order to my office highlighter collection.
1. Before and after
Curry sauce by the President. (an aside: why is it that native UK cuisine seems to treat black pepper as a spice to be used with suspicion and extreme caution, but Brits and Scots love curry? Especially after drinking copious amounts of beer? I don’t get it. Tell my “old country” scottish/british friends, “Tonight it’s Moroccan for dinner” and they screw up their faces in confusion and sniff every bite suspiciously before eating – kind of like I do with vegetables – hmm. But tell them “I know you’ve had Patak’s the last ten times you were here, but… ” and they practically lick the cooking pan clean!
Note also the elephant in the background. I thought that was a nice touch.
But I digress.
2. Up Close and Personal
The goddess was made for by a very dear departed friend of mine and resided on my fridge for many years.
The fridge magnets are arranged in my rather bizarre stab at poetry. Each line is a standalone poem. They read as follows (from the bottom, which is how I started composing it
please watch your magnetic musk
some more delirious pudding please
I crave his warm languid whisper
but want to sleep with…
why do mad passion and beauty make me cry with lust?
a naked moon must soar and build together
I need to be the divine and curvaceous fairy femme
love is a violent luscious spray of blue fire
outrageous trip through time a caress in a void
I feel like the slick aristocratic goddess who can spank you
straight boys rock but sausages wail pant and satisfy
I know, I know… don’t give up my day job. However, I do like it better than the tenants rights haiku I penned during the last staff meeting. I won’t bore you with those, although the coworkers got a kick out of them.