RUSH is the worst band in the world.

Well. Yesterday was kind of the shits. Not in any clanging disaster sort of way, just sort of quietly not my fucking day, you know? I tried to work it out with a little retail therapy (didn't buy the faux leather party dress, but I DID pick up a rather scandalous skirt from the same line that is pretty cute) but for the most part things were not going as planned, and that stuck in my craw. I arrived back at the snuggle shack and checked the mailbox and SHAZAM! Day saved by the world's cutest mail presents from sweet miss Harriett, referred to hereafter as the cutest lady in all the land.

(I don't know if you can tell, but Royal Mail has shiny gold stamps and I am SO JEALOUS.)

If you have ever followed the million links I have posted to her blog, Bright Young Twins, you will know that she lives in a beautiful time warp and dresses in head-to-toe perfect vintage every day, and so of course she sent me perfect presents from the past.

 So cute! Are you kidding me?!

Everything was wrapped in such precious little parcels that I barely wanted to open them up:

But then I got over it:

Pow! A tiny cute mirror, perfect because I have been fixing my lipstick in the cruddy smashed mirror in my old wallet and thinking about BAD LUCK every time. Pearl necklace in my favorite colour ever with a matching beautiful enamel and rhinestone thistle brooch and coolest of all, a collection of 1950s pinup temporary tattoos! So sweet! I had no idea that temporary tattoo technology went that far back. Now we know.

So. Thanks and a million hugs and kisses to Harriett for saving the day with her kindness and impeccable taste.

It always becomes obvious when I have started to absorb the fact that cold times are coming, because I hole up and get crafty. Usually that involves taking on large projects for which I have absolutely none of the required skills at all (remember when I was going to design a full line of lingerie? WHAT?) The Mister's sister is having a little she-baby in December and I decided to get granny about it and make a baby quilt.

I have no idea how to make a baby quilt.

But I'm trying. I picked fabric, which was harder than I actually thought it would be, as fabric stores are overwhelming, especially to impulse shoppers like me... There is a lot of pink, which I was a little conflicted about, but the mom-to-be is into girly things, so I thought I would save my nudging of gender stereotypes for when I buy the chick a drum kit for her 3rd birthday.
So, pretty pink it is:

I quickly realized that making a quilt requires quite a bit of precision. I am not very good at precision.

So far it seems to be working.

So far, no major disasters. I am hoping the slight crookedness comes off as charming, rather than pathetic. I think I am going to make some cute hearts or stars or something and attach them on top of the patchwork background to break it up a little, surround the whole thing in a seafoam green border and I think that will be it.

(Sorry about the fuzzy photo, that thing was hanging off my ironing board and it was hard to get a reasonable shot).  Anyway, so there's that.

This weekend is going to be so good. So busy, but so good. I am really looking forward to Bob Log III at New City. He hasn't brought his cocaine stomp to dirt town for so long, and although I seem to recall getting into a bitchy fight with an ex about whether or not I was allowed to comply with Bob's request to have the audience ladies flash their racks, I think that this time around will be better, now that there is no one contesting ownership of my boobs. Also, I wish I could sit down and have a chat with 2003 Amelia. I could have saved that chick an ocean of trouble.

On Saturday I'm starting out at the final Wet Secrets show before lovely miss Donna Ball leaves us for true love, which is patiently waiting for her in Glasgow. I selfishy wish she'd stay forever, but moving across the world for love is wicked romantic and really we are all so happy for her.

After that I am going to see Black Thunder with the Get Down at New City. When Brontoscorpio played that Beatroute thing in May, Black Thunder played the afterparty and I almost lost my mind when I heard them. They look like IT nerds and sound like total shredding rock and roll destruction. Seriously, their drummer may be my new favorite and that is saying something. I highly recommend that if you are around you should check it out.  The only video I can find of Black Thunder does them no justice whatsoever, so you're gonna have to take my word for it. Also, the Get Down is awesome every time, as we know.

Perhaps a hot rock infusion will cure me of my need to make fluffy pink quilts, at least for a little while. Sometimes it's like I don't even know myself anymore.

Recipe for specialty drinks for Friday and Saturday:

26 oz whiskey

Serve in 1 oz glasses at regular intervals throughout the evening.