Halfbaked

Lots of my ideas can be described as halfbaked. I can't stop them from flowing. If I thought things completely through I probably wouldn't even begin to take on half the projects I attempt. Or even post half the posts I do. Halfbaked it is. It is totally how I feel tonight anyway. Crusty on the outside, mush on the inside. I am like Jiffy Cornbread.

Yeah, I have no idea where I was going with that. My brain isn't completely engaged. Halfbaked. Appropriate, considering I'm 20 weeks pregnant. Pollywogallina is halfbaked, too.

I watched the third piece of wallpaper come crashing off the wall.  Dammit all to hell and back again! I think I'm going to cry. I don't remember that happening in my mother's basement. Hanging the blasted wallpaper I got on clearance was the last project Husband and I did before he left on his trip. And at like midnight. He didn't complain. He was leaving the next day for eleven days. At one point he even said he kind of liked doing it. I'm thinking of texting him a picture of my recent calamity along with "don't quit your day job." But I wont in case it is the very first text he gets when coming off the mountain. He'll see it and turn around and start walking back in the opposite direction. We really need him around here, so I will keep my snarky texts to myself.

In case you missed it, my husband is hiking the John Muir Trail right now. It's kind of a big hiking deal. A notch in his outdoorsy-mans belt. Personally, I think the whole idea is a little... well, you guess it... halfbaked. But it's not like all my ideas are genius. We clearly have somewhat differing opinions on what is considered fun. He's obviously going to be kicking himself for missing my attempt at sewing a slipcover this week. I hope this halfbaked plan turns out. Some of them do. Thank goodness epoxying corkboard to the glass insert on the pantry door did. He isn't particularly fond of texts like, "Hey babe, could u swing by THD and pick me up a new pantry door?"

I sewed the faux dish towels out of napkins I liked and some fabric remnants. Woohoo! It worked.

Since Husband is pretty used to going along with my whims, I forget at how out of nowhere they might seem to some people. With my sister here she is frequently reminding me that I'm nuts. I don't know why she thought taking the kids on a field trip to the side of the road to pick weeds for the mantle in flip flops was a problem. She's coming around though. Soon I will win her over and she'll quit asking questions when I say, "I have an idea."

My almost free fall mantle. Rootbeer bottles from movie night, weeds on the side of the road, paint tarp turned banner from the garage, cheapo gourds from the farmer's market and my backyard, wah lah!

Further proof that buying eight bags of Dollar Tree fall leaves was not a halfbaked idea. Neither was the grape laden hideous topiary from Goodwill that looked like it came from the foyer of a nursing home. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with either, but now it's one of my fall favorites.