Grenade Goes BOom

Cartography Grenade Heart Pendant

What do you do when you’ve thrown a grenade into your relationship? Purchase matching grenade necklace and earrings? Shoot, I am the worst at problem solving.

grenade earrings

Let me warn all women against this small little RAGE side effect of Estradiol. I had an awful, terrible weekend, capped with one too many hormone pills that magnify and blow out of proportion all emotions. Remember that time I got so angry with my honey that I threw out all of our food? Same pills. The Incredible Hulk’s got nothing on my estradioled self. Anyways, I was terrible, just horrible yelling at my poor honey. But it takes two to tango, if you know what I mean.

Can I offer you this grenade bracelet to go with a big helping of crazy?
grenade

Fortunately we’re made up now. But hormones! They’re not for wimps!! (All my guys-in-a-relationship-with-a-lady followers are currently nodding their heads sagely going ‘YUP, I coulda told you that. And the sky is blue.’)

How you like dem Apples???

IMG_3036.JPG
This post is for Jenny at She Loves Dresses because she loves food jewelry! If you too love cute food jewelry, Jenny, besides blogging about wonderful vintage dresses, sells some cute food jewelry at She Loves Cute Stuff (shout out, woot woot!)

Today is the day that I do something with my collection of slowly rotting apples. I have mentioned before my cooking skills. As in, they are not an inherent skill set of mine but something I have learned through practice and following recipes closely. These apples have been bugging me, like quite literally, because of all the fruit flies. So I figured I’d do something with them. Welcome to my little apple butter cooking lesson AKA how Margaret fuck’s up that which she’s attempting to cook.

Step one, find a recipe! No problem, thanks to my wonderful Fannie Farmer

Step two, realize that you do not have most of the necessary ingredients and the quantity of apples? Significantly less than 5 lbs.

Step three, proceed disregarding these shortcomings.

Step four, dice apples, put them on the stove to cook and commence research on apple jewelry.

Can I show you these apple jewelries? OMG. REAL FRUIT jewelry by, what else, Real Fruit Jewelry. The apple is kind of boring, but their kiwis? Pretty cool. I think they are dipped in resin to preserve them.
apple necklace

Or the bracelet apple? Made of unknown materials by Inekeotte Jewelry, seems like it’d be a bit awkward to wear and do basic stuff like reach into your purse. But whatever! It’s creative, right?
apple bracelet

Step five, notice the pot is clanking a lot. Return to stove top and add various ingredients the recipe both does and does not call for.

IMG_3037.JPG
Step six, ignore instructions to stir constantly to avoid burning and return to the internets. Read Dora’s The Walking Dead post. Uhhh what the fuck machines are they unplugging on TWD? With my first hand “being run over by a truck” experience I can tell you that there aren’t any life maintaining machines for you to be plugged into. Chest tubes have been around since WWII, they’re just tubes shoved into your pleural cavity that drain blood into buckets. BUCKETS. That’s not exactly sophisticated machinery.

The other machines I was connected to were: heart monitor, morphine drip, and oxygen tank. But it’s not like I would have died if these were “unplugged”. So whatevs. NO SPOILERS, I am not concerned as to the outcome of the character being “unplugged.” I mean, unless there’s brain damage and *character* can’t breathe on their own? But then they are fucked regardless because brain trauma = no bueno in zombie apocalypse.

Ehhh… Where was I?

Step seven, improvise MORE. Add tapioca flour (to make it stickier) and frozen blueberries (because why the hell not?). Notice apple butter is turning a bloody color. Add lemon juice. AND WINE. Again, why not?

Step eight, realize wine was a mistake. ADD BRANDY to counter act the wine. Because brandy is the opposite of wine, right? It’s simple math, folks. Close and put away cookbook because we are riding far off trail now.

Step nine, start looking for wine jewelry on some popular wine websites. Bemoan the fact that you can purchase a copy of To Kill A Mockingbird on the Coppola Vineyards site but not bracelets only to realize it’s Tequila Mockingbird, a cookbook? Then bemoan the downfall of Western Literature. Finally find cork bracelets (close, right?) but… ehhhh… no. This is not up my alley.
cork bracelet

Step ten, finally finish cooking and arrange a pretty “apple “butter photo.

IMG_3040.JPG

Remember that which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger… Bon app├ętit!

Nirvana

This is a hodge podge of a theme, inspired by Heart Shaped Box. Because I am sentimental and it’s a beautiful song.

Where were you when you heard Kurt Cobain died? If you answer “just a twinkle in my parents eyes”, then you don’t know, man. You don’t know. You don’t know about the pervasive cult of Nirvana. For example, school dances played Smells Like Teen Spirit multiple times per night. You try dancing to that! It’s just not possible. No wonder I didn’t kiss a boy until I was 16. I wasn’t even a late bloomer, I was a regular bloomer. Don’t feel too sorry for me on the kissing front, tho, I more than made up for it.

So I didn’t even *like* grunge music. I was more of an R&B kind of girl. And Oldies, I loved the Oldies. But I was sprawled across the backseat of my dad’s car, the radio on while we drove somewhere when the DJ cut in to tell us of Kurt Cobain’s death. I was 14, just about to turn 15. Like Jon Snow, I knew nothing. Kurt Cobain seemed hecka old. Nirvana had been around since forever, right? I’m telling you, I knew nothing of time or life or death or art. Nothing.

Now here I am twenty years later, sentimentally listening to the gloomiest genre of music ever. I didn’t even like grunge then, but I like it now. It means something to me. I’ve been drawn into the magnet tar-pit trap of nostalgia.

Nevermind
Looks like the jewelry designer Isabel Marant is similarly sentimental. This line is called Nevermind. I will go out on a limb and guess is she 37 years old. If Nevermind is her go to Nirvana album I know without a shadow of a doubt that she is two years older then me. I know it!

Nirvana collection
This here is part of her Nirvana collection.

Oops. I just googled her, and though her age is impossible to find it seems she’s solidly in her mid forties. Tant pis. Her Frenchness throws off the sophisticated algorithm of age deduced by Nirvana album preference. Personally, my favorite is In Utero.

Etsy Rib Cage
In an effort to find some jewelry inspired by the female torso that graces the cover of In Utero I came across this very cool rib cage pendant by mrd74. My accident, besides almost killing me, primarily crushed my chest. I broke all my ribs, punctured both my lungs, and sported a trio of chest tubes. So I have much respect for the structure of the human rib cage, it is remarkable. We’re made of so much jelly! Fortunately, complicated architecture protects our softest parts. What can I say? She eyes me like a Pisces when I’m weak. What does that even MEAN??? I don’t know.

Quick topic change: Who’s now in the mood for some coffee? Coffee is soooo 90s, isn’t it?