(mis)adventures in crafting.

I've used a lot of excuses in the last four years for not updating this blog in a timely manner - working too much, traveling too much, partying too much (whoops), just to name a few. 

But crafting too much?  Well, that's new, uncharted, unfamiliar territory for me.

Yet, thanks to the recent baby boom and subsequent baby showers that is happening right now among my closest friends, I have been crafting up a storm lately.

In fact, I've been doing so much crafting, party planning and cooking lately, that I thought I might feature some of my domestic endeavors on this site for you to marvel at and enjoy.  Maybe that's what this blog has been missing all along - lofty craft projects with impeccable results?

Only my results haven't exactly been "impeccable," and craft "projects" have felt more like hard labor for someone of my amateur status.  
 
So, if you've stumbled upon this space having Googled, "baby shower," or "crafting," or "Michael's is scary to me," you may want to head over to Pinterest where real crafters are offering real advice. 

Don't get me wrong, I do make a mean diaper cake and have been known to cook up a few delicious dishes in my day.  I even stole a great idea from my friend Amanda and made jars of homemade pickles as favors to pair with a King of Pops ice cream bar representing two of the stereotypical cravings women experience while pregnant.   

 

But, my friend Lauren's Baby Shower last weekend came together thanks mostly in part to my fellow hostesses Emily, Katherine and Mary and only after I glued my fingers together with super glue and smoked Jacob out of my house grilling vegetables.

And while I still stand by Pickles & Ice Cream as a sweet (and tasty) shower idea, the execution, was, well, how can I say, not quite suited for 80 degree temperatures in Atlanta? 

Despite my valiant attempts to domesticate, I fear I did not take after my mom, seamstress and chef extraordinaire, a former home economics teacher nicknamed, "Becky Homecky" in her glory days.  

But we still had a great time, mostly because we achieved what we came to do - and that's shower Lauren with plenty of gifts and love for her, Donald and Baby Bain, who will make his debut at the end of October. 

 

Thankfully, Lauren is the best kind of friend on whom to test your crafting skills because she's so sincerely appreciative of us doing anything for her - I think we could've ordered a pizza and passed out canned soda and she would've been just as gracious, just because that's the kind of person she is.   She is going to be an excellent mother. 

We all got a good laugh when we took the presents out to the car, and found someone had left an extra "surprise" gift on Lauren's car.

 

Well played, Kyle. Well. Played.
 
I'm baby showering again this weekend - this time for my brother and Katie, and then I'm headed off the grid for a much-needed vacation that will not involve ribbons or sewing or trips to Michael's.

UGA, vintage-style.

I so wanted to come to this space and taunt Gamecock fans (read: all of my family and many of my friends) about last weekend's oh-so-sweet victory in Athens.  And after having witnessed, in person surrounded by South Carolina fans, last year's 35-7 Georgia beat down and hearing "Sandstorm" no less than 1000 times, I think I deserve to relish this year's win.

But the Gamecocks that I love aren't the kind who tell things like, "CLOWNEY GOTTA EAT!!!," or "SHUT the F*CK UP GEORGIA!!!!" like some of the South Carolina fans I witnessed Saturday (seriously, what is it about sports that brings out the absolute worst in people?), so out of respect for them, I'm instead going to tell you the best thing that happened besides the score of the game:

Maribeth and I sneaking into the student's section and being mistaken for students.  It happened.

It happened because we left our real seats in the visitors' section.  I thought it was an easy place to retreat from the Gamecocks we'd been sitting with. 

When I was in college, I don't remember the students' section being, in any way, a coveted place to sit.  I remember it more of a wasteland, free-for-all where anyone and everyone could come and go as they pleased.  Those days are gone - and students are required to now show their tickets and/or student IDs to get into their seats. 

Stadium security guy asked me for my ticket as I walked purposefully towards the 300 section.  I fibbed and said I lost it.  Then he asked me if I had my student ID.

"Oh, that's sweet of you to say," I said, "But I haven't been a student here for 10 years."

I guess he respected my honesty, because after a couple of side-eye glances, and me fake pretending to dig through my purse to find the lost ticket, he let us into Section 310, where we climbed to the top and found an open place on an aisle to set up camp for the second-half.

The young energy and endless chants, the familiar smell of Beam and Coke, the trendy outfits (including stickers that read "Phi Mu loves the Dawgs" and "Theta Loves UGA") - the whole scene was just so college.  I suppose maybe I should've felt old and a little silly, but I felt right at home.

Then, almost as if it was meant to be - I looked down to find a sticker that said, "5th Years Love Georgia," as in those students (like me) who managed to squeeze an extra fall semester, making them "5th year Seniors."  I peeled it off the aluminum seat and didn't take it off for the rest of the night.

(Ignore my sunburned greasy face, it was hot out there.) 

Ok, so maybe it would've been more accurate had it read, "15th Years Love the Dawgs," but I didn't care.

Then, a guy who must've been fraternity pledge (evident by the white button down shirt and tie he was wearing in the 90 degree heat), but who looked no older than 13, turned around to tell us something that had we been current students, we probably would've understood.

I shook my head sheepishly and confessed, "Um, this is embarrassing, but we actually already graduated a while ago.  We're not students anymore."

(Wink, smile, shoulder shrug)

"So what are you, like 24 or 25?," he asked earnestly.

"Well . . . something like that," I replied, "Only more like 32."

He and his date, a petite blonde with a temporary "G" tattoo on her arm seemed genuinely shocked that we were that old.  If it wasn't possibly illegal and definitely creepy, I might've reached over and kissed the little guy.  The little college freshman.

This experience, the day, the victory, it all felt very old-school Georgia.  Very vintage.  Very perfect.

sucky, non-sucky things.

Sometimes a picture says it all. 

This is my friend Momo's dog Sam watching (or not watching) the Georgia vs. Clemson game last Saturday night.  

The game was close - Clemson only beat my Bulldogs by 3 points.  But seeing my team, again, fall a part with stupid mistakes and costly penalties made it feel like a much bigger beat down.  My mom hates this phrase, but sometimes there's nothing more to say than, "That sucked." 

There's a lot on the line this weekend - and I'm headed to Athens tomorrow, hoping for better luck (and please, please God not a repeat of last year) against (gulp) South Carolina.

In the non-sucky category - my brother and Katie celebrated their anniversary yesterday.  Happy Anniversary to two of my faves!  What an amazing, lovely and fun-packed weekend it was four years ago - and the adventures for you are just beginning.  I love you both and can't wait to be the crazy auntie I was born to be.

Also, if you watch anything today - let it be this.  Twerking Gone Bad = Very, very good. 

Happy Weekend!