Since it is Halloween…it’s time for Frankenpants! George tears and wears his pants out at a frightening rate. I get snagged on the barbwire fence and slow down and try to unsnag. George just pulls hard enough to get away. Almost all of our jeans come from thrift store. It just isn’t worth the extra money to buy them new off the lot. I also mend our farm pants. Style isn’t a big part of our farm life. Therefore…Frankenpants!
The crotch was torn (speed trip through the barbwire?) and the knees were worn out in the bibs. Also George didn’t like the button fly. He mumbled something about them being too breezy. What to do? Sew the good parts off a pair of worn jeans onto the bib tops and ta-da: Frankenpants!
To be honest, it would have been more efficient to go and buy another pair of thrift store bibs, however I took it on as an artistic challenge. And it is quite possible that my “free-time” is free and doesn’t have any value. (I don’t want to explore that idea too much.) George has tried on the Frankenpants and declared them a success. Time will tell.
Anyone want me to alter their prom or wedding dress? Zig-zags and contrasting thread included!
More on speed over style. Love those little cake pops? Can’t imagine making cute spheres out of food? Don’t want to count how many you would eat? Make a chocolate cake and some yummy mocha frosting, dump together, close your eyes and enjoy!
Happy Halloween everyone!
The weather has been unseasonably warm here in Wisconsin. Someone told me that our daytime temperatures are reaching the average for July. I believe them. Spring chores have been sped up for me. Getting things done before the grass gets too long seems to be a deadline that I never quite reach in time.
Along with the hot weather, George has spring break, and we have been married 11 years this March. We took some time off from the grass deadline to canoe on the Little Wolf River today. George was in the bow because I have more experience steering than he does. Like many things that he attempts, George relies on brute strength than balance or finesse. I felt like I was mostly paddling to counter his force rather than navigate down the river.
We saw a frog, lots of turtles sunning themselves on snags, ducks, geese, and a turkey. Most of the plants are still thinking about turning green and the grasses along the bank were brown.
The water was high enough, even though we didn’t get nearly our usual amount of snowfall or other precipitation since fall. We had to work to hit a couple of rocks and there where nice ripples, but nothing rough. Perfect for us. There was a tense moment when George didn’t feel like I was doing my job of steering well enough and attempted to steer from the bow. When I thought that the moment was over I told George that he would just have to trust me. “But I don’t trust you!” George shouted back. Maybe we will work on trust for our twelfth anniversary.
Endnote: No, George does not want a hug. He’s showing off a spruce moved from Scott and Barb’s land and transplanted on Paul and Barb’s land.