Adventures In Crafting

 

          This week has flown by for me. I spent three glorious days crafting — and entirely new crafting for me.

          Last week, when I was writing about making the tin can flowers, I realized I was negligent in picture taking. So, this week I did a much better job of documenting the processes and pitfalls.

          Something I’d love, love, love to do is make garden art and whirligigs from scrap metals. I’ve often thought I’d ask our son to teach me to weld; Kevin’s an expert welder! But a hobby on that scale is way beyond my means, not to mention Kevin’s a thousand miles away. I’ll have to content myself with a baby version, namely tin cans and hot glue.

          I found directions and a pattern online for a pinwheel made from a plastic folder.

         I’m gonna make it from tin, methinks. I use my trusty printer to resize the pattern then set to work opening six spent red beet cans. The hardest part was getting the bottoms off without bending up the can and something I couldn’t accomplish. If only I had one of those army can openers. I thought that would do the trick. I even think I have one around here someplace and took a few minutes to look for it. But I knew even before I started the search that it would be a waste of time. I’ll just have to pound the dents out.

          I drew the pattern on the can and cut it out. I’d been playing with the best way to do this and as a result, I got five vanes going one way, and one oddball which was cut wrong.

          It took me a while to figure out how that could’ve happened and I was really puzzled for the longest time. Especially when I was getting ready to re-cut it so I had a matching sixth one and saw it would be backwards too. What is going on! I wondered. I know I didn’t flip the pattern over and I know I laid it along the seam. Those two things I was certain of. I turned the can upside down but that still wasn’t right. Finally, it dawned on me that I’d drawn the other five on the outside, the shiny side of the can, and this time I’d drawn it on the inside.

          Next, I needed a spindle for the pinwheel to spin on.  The instructions specify a straw for use in making a plastic pinwheel. I don’t think a plastic straw’s gonna hold up in a metal pinwheel, I think and start searching for something to replace it with. I racked my brains and dug through all our treasures, aka junk. I couldn’t come up with anything. I might be able to use copper tubing but I’d have to go buy some and I didn’t want to do that. Eventually I thought of a barrel from an old ink pen. I tore the pen apart and cut it to size.

With that hurdle cleared, I now had to find a way to make a hole in the vanes big enough to accommodate the tube. This is where my problems started.

          I’ll use a drill, I think and hit Mike’s tools for the proper size drill bit and a drill. I didn’t ask for help but I got caught.

“What are you doing?” Mike wanted to know.   

          “I’m getting a drill bit so I can drill a hole in my can.”

          “One of my drill bits?” he wanted to know.

          “Yeah! I don’t have any of my own!”

          Mike got up to investigate.

          “Is this the size I need to fit this tube?” I showed him the tube and drill bit.

          “Yeah. What are ya gonna drill?”

          “My pinwheel. I need a hole big enough for this to go through, then it gets a nail through the center to nail it on the post.” I held up a piece of scrap wood in my other hand. “I’ve got a piece of wood to drill on.”

          “It’s a lot easier to just go out and buy one,” Mike, otherwise known as Mr. Grumbly Pants, said.

          “I don’t want to buy one. I want to make one.”

          Resigned to helping, even though I didn’t ask, Mike took the drill bit and secured it in the drill gun for me. “What do you want to drill?” he asked dropping the gun down to his side, offering, in his way, to do the drilling for me.

          “My pinwheel,” and I led the way to the kitchen/craft room. I picked up the vane from my worktable and showed it to him.

          “You can’t drill a hole in that?”

          “Why not?”

          “It’ll wind up on the drill bit.”

          I think he was worried I’d get cut. Me, a Hoosier at heart, says, “Show me.” He did. It did. And it ripped to boot. “We should’ve tried it on a scrap piece first. Oh well,” I said and shrugged. “I can make a new one.”

          “Don’t you have a punch?” Mike asked.

          “I do!” I remembered. I’d bought a disc cutting set years ago thinking it was a dapping set and never used it. I went out to my shop and brought it in, glad to have a reason to use it. I unboxed it and handed it to Mike.

          “These are all too big.”

          “Show me.” I took the dies out, slipped the edge of the vane in. “How can I tell where it’s at?”

          I know, right! I can be slow but I’d’ve probably figured it out in time. Mike is a much faster thinker.

“Put a dot on it.”

          I felt like an idiot. I dotted it with my trusty Sharpie, slid it into place, and Mike took over, hitting the die once with a hammer and he was right. It was too big.

          “Maybe it won’t matter,” I say.

          “It’ll wobble,” Mike guesses.

          “Well, how else am I gonna put a hole in it?”

          “It’d be a lot easier to buy one,” he iterates.

          “It’s not about having a pinwheel; it’s about making one! And making things is what makes me happy.”

          “Do you have a paper punch?”

          I did! An old single-hole paper punch from a hundred years ago. I dug around till I found it and it worked — and it wasn’t even hard to punch the hole through the tin. “It’s too little!” I whined and held it up for his inspection. “The tube won’t fit through!”

          “Maybe you can just use a nail.”  

          “Will it spin on a nail?” I asked.

          “It should.”

          “What’s going to keep all the vanes in place?” I asked aloud. “Oh. I’m supposed to hot glue them together.”

          Mike left me to it and I have to tell you, I’m not a big fan of hot glue. It gets hot! I burned my fingers more than once! I got all six vanes glued together but no matter what I did I couldn’t get the other side of the vanes glued. There was too much tension for the hot glue to hold. And once again I wished I could weld.

Mike had wandered out to the kitchen to check my progress. “It’s not going to work.” I told him. “Maybe if I used something thinner, like a soda can, it might, but this tin is too stiff.” I foresee a roadside pickup-trash day in my future. It’s littered with lots of drink cans. Mostly beer. In the meantime, this is what I ended up with. The wheels started spinning in my head and I’m dreaming up ways to finish this off and make it a flower.

But I really had my heart set on a pinwheel! I’m not buying plastic folders to make one, I think. Then I remembered that I’d been given a bunch of sheets of plastic. I have no idea what you call this kind of plastic, but when it was given to me by those wonderful, beautiful neighbors of mine, the Kipps, I thought I could use it to make stencils. Now I went out to the shop and brought a sheet in. I was soaring to new heights, working with a new material. I traced the vane, times six. The whole time I was cutting them out, I wondered how I could decorate them. An image of the Shrinky-dinks I’d made flashed through my mind’s eye. Permanent marker won’t come off plastic — at least not with water. I drew and colored the vanes. This part was time consuming, although not altogether unpleasant, but I didn’t want to spend so much time on the other side and I didn’t want to leave ‘em white either. I decided to use a wash and make it a solid color.

“How did you do that?” you ask.

          Well, I’ll tell ya. I scribbled some marker on, spritzed it with alcohol, and brushed it around.

         It doesn’t take long for the marker or alcohol to dry so the next step was putting them together. I have to tell you. I hate hot glue! I did what the directions said, made a circle of hot glue around the hole, lined the holes up, and promptly burned my fingers as the hot glue squished out and clogged up the hole. I think I have a blister.

          But I muddled through. You’d’ve thunk I’d’ve noticed before I was done that it was backwards, wouldn’t ya. I didn’t.

          I pulled the vanes apart but couldn’t pull the hot glue off. I had big ole gobs of hot glue left behind. I thought about just adding more glue and sticking them back together the right way but I thought it might be too lumpy.

Inspiration struck.

          What if I iron them? Would it stick to the fabric more than the plastic?

          So off I went on an experiment. I layered it between two pieces of cloth and when I saw the glue melting, I lifted it away. It was sticky and half on the cloth and half on the plastic, so I gave it wipe, and burned my finger. Of course I did. Have I ever told you how much I hate hot glue?

          For the most part it worked beautifully, until I wasn’t paying attention to where the iron was and melted the top of one of the vanes. I actually tried to add a little heat and straighten it out, but it didn’t work. This one would have to be mine.

          I re-glued it, used a file and Exacto knife to open the center hole up, inserted the pen barrel, a nail, and nailed it onto the post.

          Learning curve, folks. That’s all I gotta say.

          I tapped the nail in until the barrel rested against the wood — and it wouldn’t spin. Dah! I pulled the nail part way back out, the wind grabbed it and it spun like crazy!

          In the end, I’m the victor!

          But I have to tell you. I’m so excited to make one for my Miss Rosie that I set to work on it straight away! This one would be a lot bigger than the first one I made. The first one had vanes that were about six inches across. Miss Rosie’s would be ten-and-a-half inches! I drew, 

and I colored, then the weekend arrived and it’s on hold till next week. But I think she’ll like it.

          Speaking of learning curves…

          Besides saving the cans, I saved the lids. I had it in mind to make spinners from them but found out you can make bells with them. Yep. You heard me right. Bells.

          It took me several tries to figure out how to make them so they were more or less consistent, but I kept at it until I figured it out. I punched a hole, made my marks.

          Cut out my vees.

          And folded them over.

          Fishing string and nuts made the clapper on one.

          Fishing string and metal staples for clappers on another.

          When I shake them, they make lots of noise. But hanging outside, I’ve yet to hear the wind hit them hard enough to make any noise. I might have to re-think the way I put the clappers in.

          Besides Miss Rosie’s pinwheel, I’ve got another project awaiting completion. I’ve got three different size tin cans and I’m thinking I’ll paint them with homemade chalk paint, decoupage pictures on them, string them in a line, and add a clapper to the last one.

          Getting the cans out was easy. When I went for my homemade chalk paint, the chalk part had settled to the bottom and was pretty firm. I stirred and stirred.

          I should try my emulsifier, I think but was a little afraid to try. When I wasn’t making any headway with the lumps and a stir stick, I did break it out. It helped a lot but I wasn’t able to get all the lumps out. When the hand mixer started to smell funny, I decided to call it good enough and washed the paint off.

          I painted the cans, added owls, and set them aside to dry. We’ll have to wait and see how it turns out.

          And speaking, once again, of learning curves…

          The flower I made last week was put out on a fence post. This week I noticed that two of my petals had fallen off. I’m thinking I’ll have to find a better adhesive or maybe I’ll try soldering it.    

 

          Besides the cans and pinwheels (as if that wasn’t enough!) I also made matching Easter face masks for Lamar and Rosie. Easter is two weeks away and I thought if the Kipps wanted to get more than one wearing from the Easter mask, I’d better get ‘em made.

          “They’re so cute!” Miss Rosie gushed when I gave them to her.

          Just then Lamar came in from walking Tux. When he saw his mask he chuckled, went in the other room, and came back out with the book he was reading.

          Rabbits all over the place!

          Miss Rosie also liked the set of bells I gave her.

          “How clever,” she said. But I can only take credit for making them, not for the idea. Mother Earth News had a simple diagram for the bells, just no measurements.

          “You’re lucky I didn’t give you the first ones I made,” I told her. “They were all catawampus and different sizes.”

          “I wouldn’t mind,” she said and I know she truly wouldn’t’ve. I just wanted hers to be better than that.

>>>*<<<

          We had a visitor this week. I looked out and saw the stranger sitting just at the edge of the kitchen patio.  

Tiger and Spitfire were both out there and didn’t scrap with him. I took a picture through the door, but as you can see, with the sunlight in the background, it’s not a good picture.

I took a chance and opened the door. He looked up. I stepped out and he started to run, but stopped.

Now that I’ve gotten a good look at him, I see he’s a gray and white cat. I’ve not seen him around here before.

I cooed to him, but he wasn’t having any of it and took off, this time only going so far as the corner before stopping again.

Looking at him on my computer, I see he has the longest whiskers!

Whiskers! I think. That’s a good name for him.

I turned to go back in the house and see Mr. Mister is on one of the patio chairs, soaking up the sunshine.

Maybe it’s a female. If it was a male, Mr. would run him off, is what I think.

Once I was back inside, Whiskers came back. This time I went out with some food but my slow walkin’ and slow talkin’ didn’t entice him to hang around at all. He took off again. So, once again I went back inside.

The third time I saw him out there must’ve been the first time Mr. Mister saw him because he took off after him like his tail was on fire!

The next few times I saw Whiskers, Mr. saw him too and ran him off.

The Kipps stopped by after their morning walk for the first time since I don’t know when! Yay! I’ve really missed our morning visits and now that we’ve all had our shots we can resume them.

I showed them a picture of Whiskers and his really long whiskers hoping they might recognize him. Could he be from one of Mama’s litters before she was fixed? I didn’t specifically ask but know they would’ve said so had they recognized him.

“He does have long whiskers,” Miss Rosie said.

“You should call him Tex,” Lamar said.

Immediately the image of a crusty old cowboy with his dusty and worn Stetson sitting atop his gray head, his face sunbeaten and deeply lined, and a huge drooping mustache the center of attention came to mind. Tex is an excellent name for this guy, unfortunately, the suggestion is a little late. He’s already Whiskers to us.

In the end it’s pointless to name him. He’s likely a roving tom looking to propagate. I’ll probably never see him again and Mr. isn’t going to let him stay anyway.

Speaking of ferals…

I told you about bringing Callie and Sugar in and housing them in the cat condo because Callie was so sick. I told you about washing the snot off her nose only to be horrified when I thought her nose came off. Two weeks ago, I notice she had bald patches on her side. It was time to take her to the vet. I called and had to wait a week for an appointment. On the way over to the vet we took the long way and went through Wysox in order to stop and have lunch before the appointment. I won’t tell you it was McDonald’s and it was a Crispy Chicken sandwich.

I only took one picture on the way over to show you. It’s something many of you may see often, and something we used to see a lot of too, when we lived not here, but it’s something we hardly see anymore. Two Staters roaring down the highway at break-neck speeds, lights flashing, but no sirens.

“I thought the Tunkhannock State Police took care of our area,” I said to Mike. These guys looked to be coming from the Towanda branch. We never did hear what was going on.

Callie, in her Pet Taxi, cried the whole trip over. I tried to ignore her and treat her meows like white noise, but Mike called to her from time to time.

We’d planned to pick up our sandwiches and eat them in the parking lot of the vet but we were plenty early so we just pulled into a spot at McDonald’s and ate. With the car parked, Callie didn’t cry.

At the vet, this little ginger cutie patootie came out to pick up Callie and take our complaints back to the vet.

“She’s got bald patches on her side, and her nose…” I told Katelyn all about it.

“Don’t forget the lump,” Mike reminded.

“Oh yeah. And she has a lump between her front legs, but that’s been there a long time and isn’t a lot bigger than when I first found it years ago.” I wasn’t very worried about that lump. It’s not fast growing and it’s not attached. It just floats there under her skin.

Dr. Lori doesn’t work Monday’s so we saw Dr. Kaleta. After she finished with Callie she came out and talked to us. “I gave her a long-lasting shot that should take care of her upper respiratory infection. And I’ve seen noses like hers before in cats with respiratory infections. What happens is their nose runs so they lick it. Cat tongues are rough so she’s licked the skin off. Once it starts to heal, it itches, and she licks it more. The shot I gave her should take care of that. I think the bald patch is ring worm and I’m hoping the shot will take care of that too. The lump is maybe a small tumor but considering her age, I don’t think it’s of any concern.”

Ring worm, in case you don’t know, is not a worm. It’s a fungal infection. If you get it on your feet, they call it athlete’s foot. If you get it in the groin area, it’s called Jock Itch. It gets its name from the appearance of a ring around the rash.

We know Callie’s old but her exact age is a mystery. Dr. K guesses she’s at least twelve. “She’s lost all of her teeth and only has her canines left.”

I was shocked! I didn’t know that, but I’ve never looked in her mouth. Callie isn’t thin. She maintains her weight well but from now on I’m going to take extra special care of her making sure she gets more soft food than the others.

“We should see an improvement in the next couple of weeks. If her nose doesn’t heal, we may have to consider alternatives. There’s a cancer that will eat at their nose but her nose looks intact.”

We thanked Dr. K, paid our bill, and took a different road home.

Can you say road pictures!

Coming back through Dushore, we swung by and visited Momma, Pop, brother Mike, as well as Aunt Marie, and others of her family that are buried here.

I thought this was just about the coolest tree trunk carving I’ve ever seen.

Look at all the turkeys that flew across in front of us.

"Don't hit them," I say, like Mike ever would.

I see them go up into the woods as we pass by.

Passing a farm, Mike says, “Did you see all the hay in that barn? It’s coming out the roof!”

I hadn’t seen all the hay. I was busy looking at the white cat as it came bounding down from the hill.

Mike checked his mirrors and stopped in the middle of the road. I knew what he was going to do. “You don’t have to turn around,” I say to him. “I’ve seen hay and barns before.”

          “I’m not,” he says and backs up.

          Outside my window, these rusted gears were tied to a tree.

          Since Mike cared enough for me to see this picture, I took it.

         And I got to see another cat.

         Callie didn’t cry at all on the trip home. “She doesn’t want to go back to the vet,” I joked.

          And this week Mike and I got our second COVID shots. I didn’t take a lot of road pictures because it’s only been a couple of weeks since we’ve been on this road and I already showed you a bunch of pictures.

        Two views of the same tire swing. I can’t decide which one I like best and they’re both so different.

          At the school in Wellsboro, we sign in and zip through the line with very little wait time. Tywanda, the gal who gave me my first shot also gave me my second one. Her name is easy to remember because it sounds almost like a little town around here.

We did have to wait our ten minutes afterwards to make sure we didn’t have a reaction and hit the restrooms before heading home. While waiting for Mike I notice the lockouts on the drinking fountains and was fascinated by how they actually stay on. I looked it over but couldn’t figure it out. A couple of the volunteers were tickled that I found lockouts fascinating.

When Mike came out, he started conversing with one of the guys and found out his name is Matt Baker. Matt was a state representative before quitting and joining the Trump team. When Trump lost the election, he resigned and came back to this area. “I was involved with the development of the COVID vaccine,” he told us. “And was interested to see how the rest of the program works so I volunteer here.”

"He's a heck of a nice guy," Mike said later.

I took a few more pictures on the way home.

Coming back into Wyalusing, I had to turn around to snap a picture I’d missed on the way out of town.

Someone spray painted over the name Biden on this guy’s political statement. I’m guessing he’s as tired of seeing it as the rest of us. I wonder how long it’ll stay up now that it’s been defaced.

In my opinion, it’s time for all the campaign signs to come down.

Let's call this one done!