A shortie tonight as I attempt to discover if Raoul - my sleek new laptop - and I are going to become the bestest of buds. The whole laptop thing is new to this nerd, and while I was able (thanks honey.... very cool early birthday present) to get the big 17 inch screen model, I'm not so sure about the new keyboard arrangement. It just seems.... weird.
Weird can be good, but this is going to take some getting used to.
Granted, same thing could be said for my relationship with the Prime Geek himself, so it could all work out for the best. We'll see.
I think my true standing as a natural nerd and not a geek is coming to the forefront though, cause for the life of me, I can't figure out what all the fuss over Vista is.
Now, excuse me. I wanna see what Raoul can do.
Ciao'.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Requiescat In Pace, Hugo
After 8 years of mostly faithful service, it is my sad duty to announce the death of my poor computer, Hugo. (Yes, yes, We’ve already covered my tendency to name inanimate objects. Its just easier, okay? You cannot properly curse out something without it having a name. Just try and see how foolish you feel!)
Hugo has been rebooted, rewired, renovated, and reformatted time after time, and its finally time to let him go in peace… or pieces. The Prime Geek hasn’t ruled out an autopsy followed by a transplanting of vital components to compliment his vast array of tec toys.
His final illness started innocently enough, a sudden refusal to play any sound other than the jarring “Da Dunk” of a failed attempt to start a program. But his systems began to cascade fail soon after, with video and images the next to go.
Denial plagued me for almost a month. I thought I would simply switch back to using my cd player while I worked… it had been my method for years before I switched over to computers. Surely it wasn’t a big deal… I didn’t have to have a soundtrack to my daily writing and surfing. I would just burn my mp3’s to cd’s and go about my business as usual. But Hugo denied me again, for in a moment that still strikes horror in my veins when I contemplate it…. in the ravings of his final down spiral, he had eaten them all. I have lost most of the cd’s I had placed onto the computer… viewing them as useless objects eating space in my once tiny apartment, most had been placed onto my hard drive and given or thrown away after. I know, I know… my misfortune is my own fault.
Thankfully, Hugo is survived by a mini hard-drive, Hector. Hector is carrying on his father’s attempts to maintain and preserve my writing, holding all documents safe until the new kid on the block, a sleek new laptop, arrives via messenger tomorrow.
Let us all bow our heads and say a little prayer for the computers who help us in our day to day lives. You served me well Hugo, go to that great land of free RAM and high end silicon in the sky.
Unless Hector ISN’T safely holding my writing - in which case plan to be cast into the deepest pit I can dig, you worthless piece of hardwired junk.
Hugo has been rebooted, rewired, renovated, and reformatted time after time, and its finally time to let him go in peace… or pieces. The Prime Geek hasn’t ruled out an autopsy followed by a transplanting of vital components to compliment his vast array of tec toys.
His final illness started innocently enough, a sudden refusal to play any sound other than the jarring “Da Dunk” of a failed attempt to start a program. But his systems began to cascade fail soon after, with video and images the next to go.
Denial plagued me for almost a month. I thought I would simply switch back to using my cd player while I worked… it had been my method for years before I switched over to computers. Surely it wasn’t a big deal… I didn’t have to have a soundtrack to my daily writing and surfing. I would just burn my mp3’s to cd’s and go about my business as usual. But Hugo denied me again, for in a moment that still strikes horror in my veins when I contemplate it…. in the ravings of his final down spiral, he had eaten them all. I have lost most of the cd’s I had placed onto the computer… viewing them as useless objects eating space in my once tiny apartment, most had been placed onto my hard drive and given or thrown away after. I know, I know… my misfortune is my own fault.
Thankfully, Hugo is survived by a mini hard-drive, Hector. Hector is carrying on his father’s attempts to maintain and preserve my writing, holding all documents safe until the new kid on the block, a sleek new laptop, arrives via messenger tomorrow.
Let us all bow our heads and say a little prayer for the computers who help us in our day to day lives. You served me well Hugo, go to that great land of free RAM and high end silicon in the sky.
Unless Hector ISN’T safely holding my writing - in which case plan to be cast into the deepest pit I can dig, you worthless piece of hardwired junk.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
The Thin Green Line Redux
My last posting brought about several emails (only two readers and the Prime Geek decided to post comments, I suppose it was a topic people found a tad disconcerting to discuss on the open section of the site) as well as quite a bit of conversation from friends and family. There seem to be two distinct camps vying for Universal implementation… and, as I’m awake at 4 in the morning I figured I would think this through out loud here… as opposed to waiting for my cats to wade in on the issue.
Those supporting the idea of giving up toilet paper forever seem to accept the odd looks and horrified comments with ease and élan. They know they are on the outside of this issue, and frankly… they don’t care. A few born again cloth wipers get fervent about the horrors of Charmin on the environment… but for the most part the pro camp seems pretty calm over the whole issue. They believe they are right… and are willing to stand there calmly until you agree with them.
The con camp? Reactions ranging from mild hilarity to near hysteria have been encountered. The majority rule (unlike the PG’s mostly calm breakdown of his view of the subject in the comments) tends to an instinctive refusal. No questions, no desire for reasons, a simple Uh-Uh. No way. Not gonna happen, gross.
My previous post wasn’t really a rebuttal argument in the toilet arena (or would that be bowl?), but more an query as to what other lines have people found in their day to day life. Is it enough to try and start living greener… or do we have to give up all our habits and attitudes today and be completely green? It’s a question I have come up against more and more as I write this blog. Are we allowed to make the adjustments we can accept gradually? Or do we have to give up everything in our lives at once. Guilt, confusion, and ultimately a resigned “What does it matter, if everyone doesn’t do it we’re screwed anyway” attitude seems to permeate our society today. I suppose that’s why I tend to approach this matter (and pretty much every other matter in my life) with whatever humor I can toss at it. If I can give people a giggle, it makes slipping the message in a wee bit easier. Getting the odd pie in the face keeps me from being preachy… an attitude destined to fail.
Now. For my REAL rebuttal of the toilet paper business. While it might work in some homes, it simply doesn’t work in mine. Jokes and disgust aside, I really can’t see it as a feasible option in the natural nerd nest… and frankly wonder how manageable it is in a lot of homes. Hear me out - at the moment there are only two bipeds wandering around this house. All other entities eschew paper for the convenience of sand between their toes. Two adults means I only do laundry once a week. Having cloths with… matter on them hanging around for a week is a recipe for disaster. (Let’s face it, our cats drag the Prime Geeks dirty boxers around the house and sleep with them until we locate and confiscate them. What they would do with THESE cloths makes me gag to consider.) The way I do our laundry also make the whole affair untenable. After experimentation with adding borax and washing soda to my laundry detergent… I only use cold water these days. The hot water tank in our house is for bathing and washing dishes only. Cold water simply would not sanitize fabric wipes sufficiently, OR allow them to be free from vestige reminders of the use they have been put to. (Delicate enough for ya?) The water from our washer runs out of a tube from the laundry sink into a drain on the floor… which means at the end of the spin cycle cold water comes flashing out into the realm of our cats. Soapy water might upset their stomachs if they insist on drinking it or playing in the tiny puddle… but bleach in the water would kill. So no bleach or other harsh chemicals can be added… and so again, remnants would remain.
Another issue is simply the fact that the Prime Geek and I travel quite a bit. As dedicated medievalists, we go period camping and tend to roam the countryside looking for something to hit with a foam covered sword. In these instances, we take quick dissolving tp with us (always a fun little beat the clock game…) as while a bear might just shat in the woods, I refuse to use random leaves when I do. (After having to make the call over which was the way to go – privacy and dry straw or open field and nice broad leaves, I always carry my own. I doubt I can ever look that farmer in the eye again….)
I try to be as mindful of the environment as I can be- a good deal of my getting around these days is foot power – but I can’t see myself carrying used wipes about town with me. And yes, from that you can infer that I carry tp pretty much wherever I go. Why? Probably the simplest reason I won’t be switching from paper.
I have ulcerated colitis and IBS.
‘Nuff said.
Those supporting the idea of giving up toilet paper forever seem to accept the odd looks and horrified comments with ease and élan. They know they are on the outside of this issue, and frankly… they don’t care. A few born again cloth wipers get fervent about the horrors of Charmin on the environment… but for the most part the pro camp seems pretty calm over the whole issue. They believe they are right… and are willing to stand there calmly until you agree with them.
The con camp? Reactions ranging from mild hilarity to near hysteria have been encountered. The majority rule (unlike the PG’s mostly calm breakdown of his view of the subject in the comments) tends to an instinctive refusal. No questions, no desire for reasons, a simple Uh-Uh. No way. Not gonna happen, gross.
My previous post wasn’t really a rebuttal argument in the toilet arena (or would that be bowl?), but more an query as to what other lines have people found in their day to day life. Is it enough to try and start living greener… or do we have to give up all our habits and attitudes today and be completely green? It’s a question I have come up against more and more as I write this blog. Are we allowed to make the adjustments we can accept gradually? Or do we have to give up everything in our lives at once. Guilt, confusion, and ultimately a resigned “What does it matter, if everyone doesn’t do it we’re screwed anyway” attitude seems to permeate our society today. I suppose that’s why I tend to approach this matter (and pretty much every other matter in my life) with whatever humor I can toss at it. If I can give people a giggle, it makes slipping the message in a wee bit easier. Getting the odd pie in the face keeps me from being preachy… an attitude destined to fail.
Now. For my REAL rebuttal of the toilet paper business. While it might work in some homes, it simply doesn’t work in mine. Jokes and disgust aside, I really can’t see it as a feasible option in the natural nerd nest… and frankly wonder how manageable it is in a lot of homes. Hear me out - at the moment there are only two bipeds wandering around this house. All other entities eschew paper for the convenience of sand between their toes. Two adults means I only do laundry once a week. Having cloths with… matter on them hanging around for a week is a recipe for disaster. (Let’s face it, our cats drag the Prime Geeks dirty boxers around the house and sleep with them until we locate and confiscate them. What they would do with THESE cloths makes me gag to consider.) The way I do our laundry also make the whole affair untenable. After experimentation with adding borax and washing soda to my laundry detergent… I only use cold water these days. The hot water tank in our house is for bathing and washing dishes only. Cold water simply would not sanitize fabric wipes sufficiently, OR allow them to be free from vestige reminders of the use they have been put to. (Delicate enough for ya?) The water from our washer runs out of a tube from the laundry sink into a drain on the floor… which means at the end of the spin cycle cold water comes flashing out into the realm of our cats. Soapy water might upset their stomachs if they insist on drinking it or playing in the tiny puddle… but bleach in the water would kill. So no bleach or other harsh chemicals can be added… and so again, remnants would remain.
Another issue is simply the fact that the Prime Geek and I travel quite a bit. As dedicated medievalists, we go period camping and tend to roam the countryside looking for something to hit with a foam covered sword. In these instances, we take quick dissolving tp with us (always a fun little beat the clock game…) as while a bear might just shat in the woods, I refuse to use random leaves when I do. (After having to make the call over which was the way to go – privacy and dry straw or open field and nice broad leaves, I always carry my own. I doubt I can ever look that farmer in the eye again….)
I try to be as mindful of the environment as I can be- a good deal of my getting around these days is foot power – but I can’t see myself carrying used wipes about town with me. And yes, from that you can infer that I carry tp pretty much wherever I go. Why? Probably the simplest reason I won’t be switching from paper.
I have ulcerated colitis and IBS.
‘Nuff said.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
The Thin Green Line
As the prime geek and I delve deeper and deeper into the world of the environmentally savvy… or at least the attempting to be moderately informed, I find myself coming a croppers with some of the more, shall we say, original ideas circulating the green sphere. Where will we draw our personal lines, what is the thin green line we just will not be able to cross? What, in fact, is too far for us to handle?
I’m not sure about all my lines yet, but boy howdy have I found my first stumbling block in my natural nerd saunter.
An excellent blogger who I try to read through at least twice a week is the Crunchy Chicken – read just one of her reasons for beginning a new environmental challenge here - http://crunchychicken.blogspot.com/2007/09/cloth-wipes-benefits.html. Now, she is an excellent writer who I usually find myself agreeing with, more often wishing I was as deeply involved as she is….. but her new battle cry, one that is taking over large sections of the green blogsphere…. Just proves I must be lacking as a Natural Nerd. What is she espousing that makes me shudder to the soles of my sensible shoes?
Replacing my Charmin with cloth reusable wipes. Is it just me, or did the room start to swim a tad there? I can wrap my head around all the positives, honest. Saves paper, (ie trees) saves money, (always a yay) less trash, less pollution…. These are all the goals I am aiming for.
But…. but…. it’s….
Fine. I’ll say it. Its just gross. Sorry for the sophomoric attitude, I understand I must suck as a person. The blockage in my head isn’t even rational, I’m for cloth diapers – a short gig as a nanny taught me the hassles really aren’t that bad. At least if its just one baby at a time to deal with. So, why does this make me wanna hide under the bed? Cloth for junior, why not for senior?
Simply put? Because I just can’t. Okay? No rational discourse, no calmly weighing the pros and cons. Just a straight out Nope. Sorry. Can’t cross that particular line. My brain just doesn’t go there.
So, what is your thin green line? We all have them. You want to save the planet… but while you happily toss that banana peel in the composter and strap your roller blades on when heading out for errands, what is YOUR particular Waterloo? Can’t bring yourself to pass on the veal at your favorite restaurant? HAVE to have the newest sneakers, even when you have a closet full of shoes? Know you should be carpooling, but you just can’t give up your private morning sing-along with Pink or the Chieftains?
Tell me I’m not the only one who is having a hard time evolving as an adult!
Excuse me. All this thinking about someone coming after my Charmin stash has me feeling poorly. I think I’m gonna go hide under the covers with my new Pratchett.
While this Natural Nerd falls across her first stumbling block, please do me a favor if/when you wander towards the Crunchy Chicken’s site. Her husband has been diagnosed with cancer this week. If you read her site, take the time to comment and give her all the good thoughts and prayers you can share.
I’m not sure about all my lines yet, but boy howdy have I found my first stumbling block in my natural nerd saunter.
An excellent blogger who I try to read through at least twice a week is the Crunchy Chicken – read just one of her reasons for beginning a new environmental challenge here - http://crunchychicken.blogspot.com/2007/09/cloth-wipes-benefits.html. Now, she is an excellent writer who I usually find myself agreeing with, more often wishing I was as deeply involved as she is….. but her new battle cry, one that is taking over large sections of the green blogsphere…. Just proves I must be lacking as a Natural Nerd. What is she espousing that makes me shudder to the soles of my sensible shoes?
Replacing my Charmin with cloth reusable wipes. Is it just me, or did the room start to swim a tad there? I can wrap my head around all the positives, honest. Saves paper, (ie trees) saves money, (always a yay) less trash, less pollution…. These are all the goals I am aiming for.
But…. but…. it’s….
Fine. I’ll say it. Its just gross. Sorry for the sophomoric attitude, I understand I must suck as a person. The blockage in my head isn’t even rational, I’m for cloth diapers – a short gig as a nanny taught me the hassles really aren’t that bad. At least if its just one baby at a time to deal with. So, why does this make me wanna hide under the bed? Cloth for junior, why not for senior?
Simply put? Because I just can’t. Okay? No rational discourse, no calmly weighing the pros and cons. Just a straight out Nope. Sorry. Can’t cross that particular line. My brain just doesn’t go there.
So, what is your thin green line? We all have them. You want to save the planet… but while you happily toss that banana peel in the composter and strap your roller blades on when heading out for errands, what is YOUR particular Waterloo? Can’t bring yourself to pass on the veal at your favorite restaurant? HAVE to have the newest sneakers, even when you have a closet full of shoes? Know you should be carpooling, but you just can’t give up your private morning sing-along with Pink or the Chieftains?
Tell me I’m not the only one who is having a hard time evolving as an adult!
Excuse me. All this thinking about someone coming after my Charmin stash has me feeling poorly. I think I’m gonna go hide under the covers with my new Pratchett.
While this Natural Nerd falls across her first stumbling block, please do me a favor if/when you wander towards the Crunchy Chicken’s site. Her husband has been diagnosed with cancer this week. If you read her site, take the time to comment and give her all the good thoughts and prayers you can share.
Friday, September 21, 2007
A Slight Interruption
Sorry, sorry, regularly scheduled posts will resume in the morning, we have had an exciting few days with an elderly relative becoming ill.... thankfully nothing a short visit in the hospital for fluids and a stern "Don't you dare scare us like that" yelp couldn't fix, along with a tiny bit of cat drama. Bob Barker will be so proud, but Trouble #2 was successfully "fixed" yesterday, and she is now home and resting comfortably.
On my side of the bed.
Hogging the blankets.
At what point did did four small furry Napoleon-wanna be's take over my home?
Anyway, tomorrow its back to all the Green Poop that fit to Print... or compost. Whichever.
On my side of the bed.
Hogging the blankets.
At what point did did four small furry Napoleon-wanna be's take over my home?
Anyway, tomorrow its back to all the Green Poop that fit to Print... or compost. Whichever.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Done with the Seam Ripper?
Bet that little job just about bored you out of your gourd. Sorry about that. I said this was a cool looking and cheap skirt, never said a thing about it being a quick project.
Now, at this point you should essentially have a skirt with ribbon hanging from it (those would be the legs). There should be no connecting bits between your thighs, and a good breeze should be whipping by your butt. There? Good.
Time to break out the steam iron. All those careful seams you pulled out, fold in with the natural fold and iron down. I should mention that this is gonna be what my gram called a rough ‘n’ ready item. It will look good to the people walking around looking at it, but I wouldn’t bother with a whole lot of inside finishing work on this project. The ironed in seam allowances are what will give it a finished look, keeping the hems clean… the panels inside are sewn on top of the folds, leaving the edges unfinished inside. (See why I don’t really teach this stuff?)
This is where you are going to have to take a deep breath… and accept it is all going to work out. Starting on a side seam, lay the skirt down, letting the legs form a natural triangle from the split. Decide now how wide you want that triangle. Do you mince? If that’s the case, go small. If, like me, you stride through life looking like you’re always in a hurry, widen the sucker up so you can run in it. Slide the contrasting fabric under. Admire how it looks. Nice contrast, right? Pin through the jeans (the double fold) straight down into the contrasting fabric, both side of the triangle. Pick up the whole mess, does it look right-ish? If not, keep fussing until it all lies smooth and you like the look. Take it over to the machine and sew the lines down. Both side down from the pocket (make sure you are going through only ONE layer of the contrasting fabric.), worry about the bottom later. Cut off all that extra fabric from the contrasting material. Use it to….
Repeat on the other side. And the back… come on, you’re in the home stretch.
The front? Same deal, tad trickier, I’ll warn you. You are going to spend a little while fiddling with the area under the zipper until you are satisfied (at this point, anyone who really wants it, drop me an email and I’ll put close-ups on my Flickr account. I’m trying to not bore the guys outta their skulls here.) but with some time with the iron and it will get finished.
Hemming… ahh, the bane of any seamstresses existence. Not hard precisely, just annoying. You can either finish with the standard hem all the way around (trimming your contrasting fabrics to the length of the denim), use the easier bias tape cover it method, think ahead and choose a material you like the look of frayed… or just pick up some fabric glue and go the lazy man route.
Cheap, resourceful, looks pretty good, and gives that well loved pair of jeans (you know, the ones that make your backside look marvelous) one last hurrah before they disintegrate completely.
Back to your regularly scheduled nerdom in the morning… where we cover a fad that is just a leeeetttllle too left of center even for this natural nerd. We’re talking the ultimate “Paper…. Or Fabric” decision.
Now, at this point you should essentially have a skirt with ribbon hanging from it (those would be the legs). There should be no connecting bits between your thighs, and a good breeze should be whipping by your butt. There? Good.
Time to break out the steam iron. All those careful seams you pulled out, fold in with the natural fold and iron down. I should mention that this is gonna be what my gram called a rough ‘n’ ready item. It will look good to the people walking around looking at it, but I wouldn’t bother with a whole lot of inside finishing work on this project. The ironed in seam allowances are what will give it a finished look, keeping the hems clean… the panels inside are sewn on top of the folds, leaving the edges unfinished inside. (See why I don’t really teach this stuff?)
This is where you are going to have to take a deep breath… and accept it is all going to work out. Starting on a side seam, lay the skirt down, letting the legs form a natural triangle from the split. Decide now how wide you want that triangle. Do you mince? If that’s the case, go small. If, like me, you stride through life looking like you’re always in a hurry, widen the sucker up so you can run in it. Slide the contrasting fabric under. Admire how it looks. Nice contrast, right? Pin through the jeans (the double fold) straight down into the contrasting fabric, both side of the triangle. Pick up the whole mess, does it look right-ish? If not, keep fussing until it all lies smooth and you like the look. Take it over to the machine and sew the lines down. Both side down from the pocket (make sure you are going through only ONE layer of the contrasting fabric.), worry about the bottom later. Cut off all that extra fabric from the contrasting material. Use it to….
Repeat on the other side. And the back… come on, you’re in the home stretch.
The front? Same deal, tad trickier, I’ll warn you. You are going to spend a little while fiddling with the area under the zipper until you are satisfied (at this point, anyone who really wants it, drop me an email and I’ll put close-ups on my Flickr account. I’m trying to not bore the guys outta their skulls here.) but with some time with the iron and it will get finished.
Hemming… ahh, the bane of any seamstresses existence. Not hard precisely, just annoying. You can either finish with the standard hem all the way around (trimming your contrasting fabrics to the length of the denim), use the easier bias tape cover it method, think ahead and choose a material you like the look of frayed… or just pick up some fabric glue and go the lazy man route.
Cheap, resourceful, looks pretty good, and gives that well loved pair of jeans (you know, the ones that make your backside look marvelous) one last hurrah before they disintegrate completely.
Back to your regularly scheduled nerdom in the morning… where we cover a fad that is just a leeeetttllle too left of center even for this natural nerd. We’re talking the ultimate “Paper…. Or Fabric” decision.
This.... Could be Bad
A short note, and then later tonight I will finish off the directions for your very own war skirt. A few moments ago I received a long awaited invitation, one that may begin to consume far more of my time then my husband would wish.
Yes... I finally got my Ravelry invite. This... could be bad. If you don't knit, don't worry about it. If you do... or your significant other does and they have just started ranting over your shoulder, I do beg your forgiveness. That is, if you are one of the 19,000 poor shlubs still waiting. If its any condolence at all, it took me a month to get mine, but they seem to be picking up the pace now. (And yes... it is TOTALLY worth it.)
Now, for the non-knitter/sewer/crafty person... not to worry. Natural Nerds will resume its regularly scheduled nerdiness by tomorrow. The need to branch from this site and begin work on the sister sites is becoming very clear, as I want this to remain a green/nerd site, not nerdly by way of Martha.
Here. To make it up to you, I leave a peace offering in the form of my wedding pic, an example of my nerd cred, shall we say.
No, Yoda didn't marry us - Yes, if this was video you would hear Lord and Lady being introduced over the Imperial March - And Yes... those are custom made combat-capable lightsabers.
See.... still nerdly.
Monday, September 17, 2007
“We Can Rebuild It”
The Infamous Skirt of War
I’ll confess. The first thought which went racing through my head when my favorite pair of knock-around jeans got ripped isn’t exactly printable on a PG website. Well, PG-13. Let me make something very clear, at my size… I develop a deep rooted attachment to my clothes. If they have managed to deal with lanky legs, hips suited for any fertility deity you wish to name, a manageably sized waist, and… well, shall we say “the girls”, (IE – there’s normal, there’s Aida, and then there’s Good Grief, that’s Jenna! The first person who called me ‘blessed’ at 15 got punched in the face. Hard.) are items hard worn and well loved. Rarely do I find clothes that fit me well, and when faced with losing them I get testy. Alright. I might have hit the rampaging elf who ripped them with his own sword, pulled off his ear (and if you have ever tried to remove surgical grade spirit gum, that’s saying something) and said something bad about his mum. But after the rage bled back – and the elf brought me an offering of chocolate – I decided that I had other jeans and wanted to see if I could do something a little different. A plan to branch out of my pattern following ways.
Which means the first thing I did was desperately try to find a decent pattern. More fool I. The websites I found were sketchy at best, a few tried to give step by step pictures… but would attempt to fuse four steps into one in an effort to save space. Not helpful. So, in the end, I did what any nerd would do. I said to heck with it and starting cutting… a few cackles and a strangled off cry for Igor and I was off.
What follows is NOT going to be a step by step. The only pictures are of the finished product. Your options after reading this through as thus – do what I did and just jump in (if you follow this route, please be using OLD jeans. Better yet, wait until you can grab a few pair at a garage sale for a quarter. I take no responsibility if you try to cut up a $150 pair of designer jeans and are not happy with the result. In fact, first I will mock you for ever buying jeans that cost that much in the first place, THEN I will tell you to put on a pair of big girl panties and deal.) OR… I suppose if it all is going banana shape, drop me an email and I’ll see what I can do to help.
To begin. My skirt is the easiest way to go to start. By that I mean… long. If you desperately want a short skirt, there is a WHOLE lot more to measure, the issue of making each side match comes up as well. Doable, but I would suggest to new sewers out there to try the long version first. You need (obviously) a pair of blue jeans, about a yard of scrap fabric (I have two fabrics in my skirt. Some left over brocade for the front and back pleats, and some plain pink for the sides. Match each if you want, or go nuts and have four separate panels. This is all about your idea of a good looking skirt.), a sharp pair of scissors, thread, either a sewing machine or the knowledge of hand stitching, pins, a seam ripper, and a steam iron. Once everything is gathered up, you’re ready to roll.
For the long – Cut off the bottom of the jeans. Just chop off right where the hem is. Do this on both legs. (The reason longer is easier comes in here… short and you have to mark the length on both legs to match and make sure to keep everything even.)
Now comes the hardest part… and it isn’t hard. Just long and slightly tedious. You know all that sturdy stitching that defines a pair of jeans? Well, most of that has to come undone. Yup, just you and your seam ripper for the next couple of hours. On the sides of each leg, pull up the seams all the way up to the saddle – that’s the area where the pockets are placed in the sides of the jeans and the cross fabric that makes up the top is sewn on. (Here is were the shorter skirts start to look enviable.) Both side, up the center of each leg to the join. You want the jeans completely opened up the legs in the back and the seam ripped up the front, stopping about 2 inches shy of the bottom of the zipper.
Might I suggest taking a few moments and picking out a couple of DVD’s for the evening? This isn’t going to be hard work, but you can’t just cut up the seams (tried, failed. Trust me. You need the seam allowances.) so its gonna be a bit of a mindless slog for a few. Get something cheering on the screen and work away.
Go on. The rest will be here tomorrow when you’re done.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Skirting the Issue
While I won’t be taking requests most days on my updates, there have been a lot of queries regarding the now infamous skirt – mostly regarding its construction. Now, in the back of my mind I have been planning on eventually turning Natural Nerds into a group of sites, each dedicated to one aspect or another of my epic level nerdiness. One regarding the slightly manic levels of crafting I get myself into, another chronicling the Prime Geeks and I’s kitchen obsession. There is even talk of luring the PG to the darkside and working on a tech driven site. But, until then… I might as well intermingle all of the above here. Besides which, this particular skirt falls perfectly into my attempts to Reduce, Reuse, and… well. You know.
Early this year, the Prime Geek and I agreed to merge our gaming books and our mp3 collections, and settle down into married nerd life. I am the last of two chicks to leave my momma’s nest, the baby AND the only girl. Now, my resistance to all things “girly”, IE - pink, fluffy, lacy, or a horrid combination of the above has been the bane of my dear momma’s life. She had great hopes when I was small, for tiny and blond I turned out… at first. Nothing pleased her more than to schlep me to the beauty parlor, have them put the huge sausage roll curls ala Shirley Temple into my hair, and produce me to friends and family. Sadly, those days were short… and far from sweet. I hated babysitters, for they all came bearing boxes of ribbons and bows – danged and determined to turn me into a walking doll. The day my hair was cut short was a freeing day for this tomboy. Besides, do you have any idea how dangerous it is to swing upside down in tree branches with hair to your hips? Nearly strangled myself a dozen times over! Now, my momma, being a sweet and patient women, finally gave in. She let me run wild… provided my chores were done and I put the dress on for church. She has endured my forays into purple hair, chainmail bikinis, and leather pants. Granted, endured with confusion and more than a few “Dear Lords!” tossed in, but she has endured. As I have grown up, I have slowly reintroduced womanly wear into my wardrobe, although at 6’1 I still hold a true disdain for all things “cute”. The hair is long again – soon to be blue, but long. She has, reluctantly, understood I will never be a Barbie, and rarely will I fit the norm.
It is this allowing me to forge my own path that made me decide to head back to the fields of “normalcy” for my wedding. Just this once, I would let my momma see a sweet faced princess – instead of a tumbling, laughing gypsy. So the wedding dress… was, well. Have I mentioned yet that my family is half southern? So the tendency to white, poofy, and even a tad sparkly was indulged. Yes, there even was a tiara. Dear old mom went a bit nutty on the dress. It was lovely…. And oh so pricey. In all my years of adulthood, I have never spent on a full years worth of clothes what this dress cost. Guilt racked my nerdly soul…. I even almost nixed the dress, so shocked was I at the thought of spending what my parents did on something I would wear but once…
But…. it was so pretty. Who knew, that deep in my darkest soul, there was still a sliver of the little girl who let her momma play princess with her? So a pact was made. A way to salve my guilty conscious… and let me be a princess. For the next year, not one new article of clothing would I buy – the only caveat would be socks and underwear. I could only expand my wardrobe by refurbishing old items or sewing entirely new clothes. Somehow… that evened me out on the karmic scale.
Hey, I never said I was rational.
The skirt (directions and pictures follow tomorrow) was my first step into refurbishing clothes. I somehow managed to rip the side seam of a pair of blue jeans, ( I seem to remember the rip involving a sword, two large “nephews”, and a charging elf. Looonnggg story.) and, rather than seam it back up again, I decided I was lacking a decent denim skirt. A few hours of rummaging the internet for some directions… sadly lacking for the most part, and a few more profanity filled ones as I ripped the jeans apart and figured out how to put it back together again… found me the owner of the most comfy skirt I’ve ever had. All the advantages of blue jeans, with the “quick I gotta run to town and pretend to be an adult” aspects of a skirt. What more could a Natural Nerd want? Clothes that are “more than meets the eye”. *
*Wow. Can’t even type that without humming the transformer theme song. There must be something very wrong with me…..
Early this year, the Prime Geek and I agreed to merge our gaming books and our mp3 collections, and settle down into married nerd life. I am the last of two chicks to leave my momma’s nest, the baby AND the only girl. Now, my resistance to all things “girly”, IE - pink, fluffy, lacy, or a horrid combination of the above has been the bane of my dear momma’s life. She had great hopes when I was small, for tiny and blond I turned out… at first. Nothing pleased her more than to schlep me to the beauty parlor, have them put the huge sausage roll curls ala Shirley Temple into my hair, and produce me to friends and family. Sadly, those days were short… and far from sweet. I hated babysitters, for they all came bearing boxes of ribbons and bows – danged and determined to turn me into a walking doll. The day my hair was cut short was a freeing day for this tomboy. Besides, do you have any idea how dangerous it is to swing upside down in tree branches with hair to your hips? Nearly strangled myself a dozen times over! Now, my momma, being a sweet and patient women, finally gave in. She let me run wild… provided my chores were done and I put the dress on for church. She has endured my forays into purple hair, chainmail bikinis, and leather pants. Granted, endured with confusion and more than a few “Dear Lords!” tossed in, but she has endured. As I have grown up, I have slowly reintroduced womanly wear into my wardrobe, although at 6’1 I still hold a true disdain for all things “cute”. The hair is long again – soon to be blue, but long. She has, reluctantly, understood I will never be a Barbie, and rarely will I fit the norm.
It is this allowing me to forge my own path that made me decide to head back to the fields of “normalcy” for my wedding. Just this once, I would let my momma see a sweet faced princess – instead of a tumbling, laughing gypsy. So the wedding dress… was, well. Have I mentioned yet that my family is half southern? So the tendency to white, poofy, and even a tad sparkly was indulged. Yes, there even was a tiara. Dear old mom went a bit nutty on the dress. It was lovely…. And oh so pricey. In all my years of adulthood, I have never spent on a full years worth of clothes what this dress cost. Guilt racked my nerdly soul…. I even almost nixed the dress, so shocked was I at the thought of spending what my parents did on something I would wear but once…
But…. it was so pretty. Who knew, that deep in my darkest soul, there was still a sliver of the little girl who let her momma play princess with her? So a pact was made. A way to salve my guilty conscious… and let me be a princess. For the next year, not one new article of clothing would I buy – the only caveat would be socks and underwear. I could only expand my wardrobe by refurbishing old items or sewing entirely new clothes. Somehow… that evened me out on the karmic scale.
Hey, I never said I was rational.
The skirt (directions and pictures follow tomorrow) was my first step into refurbishing clothes. I somehow managed to rip the side seam of a pair of blue jeans, ( I seem to remember the rip involving a sword, two large “nephews”, and a charging elf. Looonnggg story.) and, rather than seam it back up again, I decided I was lacking a decent denim skirt. A few hours of rummaging the internet for some directions… sadly lacking for the most part, and a few more profanity filled ones as I ripped the jeans apart and figured out how to put it back together again… found me the owner of the most comfy skirt I’ve ever had. All the advantages of blue jeans, with the “quick I gotta run to town and pretend to be an adult” aspects of a skirt. What more could a Natural Nerd want? Clothes that are “more than meets the eye”. *
*Wow. Can’t even type that without humming the transformer theme song. There must be something very wrong with me…..
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Wow.
Oh, my.... a little over a thousand readers stopping by in one day. And I forgot to bake this week! To all of you readers who wandered over from Lawdog's site, thanks for visiting, and here's hoping there is something here to keep you coming back. While I can't guarantee being attacked on a daily basis, life does have a tendency of tossing me curve balls.
A few people have wondered about the cane I was carrying, a gift from the Prime Geek for a touchy ankle. He bought several canes a few months ago from the Coldsteel people, and we both can't recommend them highly enough.
I carry the City Stick with a polished head, perfect for helping out a bum leg AND bashing those who might make threats upon my maidenly virtue. (Did I just hear my husband snicker over that?) The Prime Geek uses their African Walking stick, as it is a few inches shorter and the head is more of an impact weapon then mine. (You could safely assume I prefer finesse and he prefers bashing.) If you are looking for a good, solid, and comfortable walking stick, wander over to http://www.coldsteel.com/ and see what you can see.
I'll be honest. Guns make me nervous. Not other people carrying, I grew up in a military and law enforcement family. If you are trained, have fun. No.... my problem is with ME carrying. In short? I'm a klutz. Not a good combo. So in a day and age where things are getting a tad crazy, I do believe I will be carrying a cane in the car with me from here on out. Guns can get refused entry, knives take time to get to (and lets face it, if you have to use a knife to protect yourself, you are getting WAAAAAYYYY to close to a bad guy for me to be comfy.) but people will rarely look a second time at a cane. As the Lord of the Rings proved, its just considered, well, tacky to take away someones prop. Use preconceived notions against people! I don't think we are at a point in our world where we have to be paranoid 24/7 about the "somebodies" who might be out to get us. But a touch of situational awareness and a bit of forethought is always a good idea.
There. Tomorrow, back to the nerdieness.
A few people have wondered about the cane I was carrying, a gift from the Prime Geek for a touchy ankle. He bought several canes a few months ago from the Coldsteel people, and we both can't recommend them highly enough.
I carry the City Stick with a polished head, perfect for helping out a bum leg AND bashing those who might make threats upon my maidenly virtue. (Did I just hear my husband snicker over that?) The Prime Geek uses their African Walking stick, as it is a few inches shorter and the head is more of an impact weapon then mine. (You could safely assume I prefer finesse and he prefers bashing.) If you are looking for a good, solid, and comfortable walking stick, wander over to http://www.coldsteel.com/ and see what you can see.
I'll be honest. Guns make me nervous. Not other people carrying, I grew up in a military and law enforcement family. If you are trained, have fun. No.... my problem is with ME carrying. In short? I'm a klutz. Not a good combo. So in a day and age where things are getting a tad crazy, I do believe I will be carrying a cane in the car with me from here on out. Guns can get refused entry, knives take time to get to (and lets face it, if you have to use a knife to protect yourself, you are getting WAAAAAYYYY to close to a bad guy for me to be comfy.) but people will rarely look a second time at a cane. As the Lord of the Rings proved, its just considered, well, tacky to take away someones prop. Use preconceived notions against people! I don't think we are at a point in our world where we have to be paranoid 24/7 about the "somebodies" who might be out to get us. But a touch of situational awareness and a bit of forethought is always a good idea.
There. Tomorrow, back to the nerdieness.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Loose the Skirts of War?
As we all know, today is 9/11. The Prime Geek and I aren't making any real changes in our life today. Thinking back on the past… but trying to focus on the future. Toss in the fact my niece turns 5 today… and its hard to keep myself morbid in the face of a tiny blond wearing a pink tutu.
But. (With me, you always know there's gonna be a but!) I DID decide to top off the gas tank while I was out this morning. We were hovering by the halfway point and I really don't ever like to let it go farther down. Toss in the fact I passed a gas station with prices $0.20 less per gallon then anywhere else, it seemed foolish to pass it by.
I got out of the jeep, and as I started to fill my tank I heard the man on the other side of the pump begin to cuss. Looking up at him, he noticed I had heard and raised his voice. "Yeah, you. You f*&%$# hippy. How dare you show your f#*%^ Anti-American a*& on a day like this! Stupid B&*^!" Normally, I wouldn't engage in a game of wits with someone so woefully underarmed... but I was a bit flabbergasted. I even looked around to see if there was someone behind me casually burning a flag that I had somehow missed seeing. He saw me looking around and actually began to step around the gas tank to come at me. More cursing at this point. Several people from various cars noticed and I saw one man begin to... well, Da's a retired Marine and the Prime Geek has worked in firearms training, I know what an unobtrusive unholstering looks like.
To paint the picture a little clearer... or at least explain my confusion... this ranting gentleman was pointing at my skirt and cursing about my anti-American self. I was (and still am in fact) wearing a black t-shirt on top with a long, almost floor length skirt made from a pair of blue jeans split and gored with hot pink brocade. It has butterflies on it. Last time I checked, I saw no obvious signs of Pro-Al Qaeda images. It's just tiny little butterflies. Not a single turban in sight. But somehow... in this gentlemen's mind, the fact I can sew, and was wearing what could be described as a slightly hippy styled skirt... I was the devil's Queen B.
Now, normally I try to shrug things off. At my height, people assume I must be gay; I try and recycle... so I'm a treehugger. My da's retired military - I must be a warmonger. For the most part, I ignore it. This was a tad bit harder... I lost a friend in 9/11, and more than a few people I care about have worked in very sandy places. But... I usually try and walk away. However... this time? He decided to push it and actually came around the and attemped to shove me against my car.
Did I mention I am using a cane this week because of my ankle? Sadly for the bully, da and several friends made sure their gal knows how to fight. He got a cane to the instep and then a fast pull UP towards the inevitable halt. A small halt, but a halt. Dropped his ignorant butt onto the ground and watched the gentlemen who had been coming towards me grin. Turns out he was an off-duty cop and wanted to know if I was wanting to press charges. Just this once, I am NOT playing good little citizen. I told him "not this time, because if I stay around this nit I might accidentally whack him over the head with my stick. Possibly repeatedly". With that he let me get into my car and leave. Sheesh, some people are dim. At the moment I'm torn between getting rid of the skirt, and wearing it everyday to spite some ignorant knuckle dragging twerps who wander around.
Oh well, what's over is over. I still like the skirt though.
The point? We’re still fighting a war. Americans and our allies are bleeding and dieing to try and set things right. No… I’m not gonna go political here, but there is a point. Remember what happened. Never forget. But don’t let that memory poison you to a stupidity and blindness that forces life to pass you by. Honor all those who have come before by LIVING. Do all that you can to protect those you love, but don’t let the rage of the past make you into the very thing you hate.
Extremists are always the frightening ones. No matter what side of the line you stand on.
But. (With me, you always know there's gonna be a but!) I DID decide to top off the gas tank while I was out this morning. We were hovering by the halfway point and I really don't ever like to let it go farther down. Toss in the fact I passed a gas station with prices $0.20 less per gallon then anywhere else, it seemed foolish to pass it by.
I got out of the jeep, and as I started to fill my tank I heard the man on the other side of the pump begin to cuss. Looking up at him, he noticed I had heard and raised his voice. "Yeah, you. You f*&%$# hippy. How dare you show your f#*%^ Anti-American a*& on a day like this! Stupid B&*^!" Normally, I wouldn't engage in a game of wits with someone so woefully underarmed... but I was a bit flabbergasted. I even looked around to see if there was someone behind me casually burning a flag that I had somehow missed seeing. He saw me looking around and actually began to step around the gas tank to come at me. More cursing at this point. Several people from various cars noticed and I saw one man begin to... well, Da's a retired Marine and the Prime Geek has worked in firearms training, I know what an unobtrusive unholstering looks like.
To paint the picture a little clearer... or at least explain my confusion... this ranting gentleman was pointing at my skirt and cursing about my anti-American self. I was (and still am in fact) wearing a black t-shirt on top with a long, almost floor length skirt made from a pair of blue jeans split and gored with hot pink brocade. It has butterflies on it. Last time I checked, I saw no obvious signs of Pro-Al Qaeda images. It's just tiny little butterflies. Not a single turban in sight. But somehow... in this gentlemen's mind, the fact I can sew, and was wearing what could be described as a slightly hippy styled skirt... I was the devil's Queen B.
Now, normally I try to shrug things off. At my height, people assume I must be gay; I try and recycle... so I'm a treehugger. My da's retired military - I must be a warmonger. For the most part, I ignore it. This was a tad bit harder... I lost a friend in 9/11, and more than a few people I care about have worked in very sandy places. But... I usually try and walk away. However... this time? He decided to push it and actually came around the and attemped to shove me against my car.
Did I mention I am using a cane this week because of my ankle? Sadly for the bully, da and several friends made sure their gal knows how to fight. He got a cane to the instep and then a fast pull UP towards the inevitable halt. A small halt, but a halt. Dropped his ignorant butt onto the ground and watched the gentlemen who had been coming towards me grin. Turns out he was an off-duty cop and wanted to know if I was wanting to press charges. Just this once, I am NOT playing good little citizen. I told him "not this time, because if I stay around this nit I might accidentally whack him over the head with my stick. Possibly repeatedly". With that he let me get into my car and leave. Sheesh, some people are dim. At the moment I'm torn between getting rid of the skirt, and wearing it everyday to spite some ignorant knuckle dragging twerps who wander around.
Oh well, what's over is over. I still like the skirt though.
The point? We’re still fighting a war. Americans and our allies are bleeding and dieing to try and set things right. No… I’m not gonna go political here, but there is a point. Remember what happened. Never forget. But don’t let that memory poison you to a stupidity and blindness that forces life to pass you by. Honor all those who have come before by LIVING. Do all that you can to protect those you love, but don’t let the rage of the past make you into the very thing you hate.
Extremists are always the frightening ones. No matter what side of the line you stand on.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Grounded
I find myself staring at the computer screen this afternoon in some small confusion and perturbation. You see, I… a fully functioning and capable adult, find myself grounded. Yup. Grounded. Took me bargaining away my small portion of freedom left to me to be allowed to write this posting at all. A two hour enforced nap will be occurring shortly after this blog.
I hate naps. I hate being made to sit still. Anyone who knows me even peripherally knows that I can’t sit still for periods longer than 45 minutes. Movies have passed me by over the last year as sitting that long doing nothing makes me crazy. So the fact my well-meaning but aggravating spouse has dictated on high that today I cannot-
Write – hence the sad bargaining for blog privileges,
Sew,
Clean,
Cook,
Or in general get any USE out of the whole day. Naps, baths, mindless tv, and more naps are all I’m allowed.
Why? Well, first take a fubar’d ankle. Toss in the probability of it being a hyper-extended ligament (thankfully not a break, we hope/think), add in a good mix of less sleep than even normal for me… I might have been found at 4 in the morning in my parents basement knitting on Saturday. To this brew steep in a few prescription pain meds (yes…. Given properly, thank you) that only AFTER ingesting does the possible side effects of shakes, double vision, cramping, and… my personal favorite the tendency of the meds to make you forget to breathe come up. That was fun. Have you any idea how creepy it is to realize that the reason the room is swimming around you and your vision is fading is the simple fact you haven’t drawn a breath in the last minute? And that you have to consciously… during a time consciousness is not really available… draw that breath? Rather quickly? Not fun. Also, only after much searching, ones spouse finally finds in small print on a hidden website “not recommended for anyone who has ever experienced an allergic reaction to any painkillers.” From Tylenol to Oxy, if you’ve had a bad reaction… don’t swallow one. Especially don’t swallow 3 in the four hours recommended… without food, and exhausted.
Gee. That would have been nice to know those four hours previous.
So, after worrying the Prime Geek far more than is good for him, he has taken the route of grounding me. Can’t do jack today, have to rest tomorrow, and he is now danged and determined that I have to…
1) Get in shape
2) Take care of myself properly (or run the risk of HIM taking on the job)
3) See several doctors to deal with an abundance of “issues”
4) And learn how to shut off my brain and relax. Something might have been muttered along the lines of “You’ll d*&% well get Zen if it kills us both."
Grounded. At 27. Crap. Natural Nerds will be up to its usual foray into the wild world of Natural Living tomorrow.
(Huh. He only THINKS he won this one. He hasn’t found the 6 articles I worked on over the week in my notebook. Try and tell ME I’m grounded.)
I hate naps. I hate being made to sit still. Anyone who knows me even peripherally knows that I can’t sit still for periods longer than 45 minutes. Movies have passed me by over the last year as sitting that long doing nothing makes me crazy. So the fact my well-meaning but aggravating spouse has dictated on high that today I cannot-
Write – hence the sad bargaining for blog privileges,
Sew,
Clean,
Cook,
Or in general get any USE out of the whole day. Naps, baths, mindless tv, and more naps are all I’m allowed.
Why? Well, first take a fubar’d ankle. Toss in the probability of it being a hyper-extended ligament (thankfully not a break, we hope/think), add in a good mix of less sleep than even normal for me… I might have been found at 4 in the morning in my parents basement knitting on Saturday. To this brew steep in a few prescription pain meds (yes…. Given properly, thank you) that only AFTER ingesting does the possible side effects of shakes, double vision, cramping, and… my personal favorite the tendency of the meds to make you forget to breathe come up. That was fun. Have you any idea how creepy it is to realize that the reason the room is swimming around you and your vision is fading is the simple fact you haven’t drawn a breath in the last minute? And that you have to consciously… during a time consciousness is not really available… draw that breath? Rather quickly? Not fun. Also, only after much searching, ones spouse finally finds in small print on a hidden website “not recommended for anyone who has ever experienced an allergic reaction to any painkillers.” From Tylenol to Oxy, if you’ve had a bad reaction… don’t swallow one. Especially don’t swallow 3 in the four hours recommended… without food, and exhausted.
Gee. That would have been nice to know those four hours previous.
So, after worrying the Prime Geek far more than is good for him, he has taken the route of grounding me. Can’t do jack today, have to rest tomorrow, and he is now danged and determined that I have to…
1) Get in shape
2) Take care of myself properly (or run the risk of HIM taking on the job)
3) See several doctors to deal with an abundance of “issues”
4) And learn how to shut off my brain and relax. Something might have been muttered along the lines of “You’ll d*&% well get Zen if it kills us both."
Grounded. At 27. Crap. Natural Nerds will be up to its usual foray into the wild world of Natural Living tomorrow.
(Huh. He only THINKS he won this one. He hasn’t found the 6 articles I worked on over the week in my notebook. Try and tell ME I’m grounded.)
Monday, September 3, 2007
Labor Day
As today is Labor Day... and all this Natural Nerd DID over the weekend was labor, I do believe today is going to be spent in blissful non-movement. Back tomorrow.
Okay, we also partied for a grand total of 20 hours in three days. I'm getting older and that IS work. We also cleaned the entire nest to a level that even my mother would be impressed. I swear, you could eat off my floors.
Okay, we also partied for a grand total of 20 hours in three days. I'm getting older and that IS work. We also cleaned the entire nest to a level that even my mother would be impressed. I swear, you could eat off my floors.
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