These things are medicine. Headaches and fear too, but mostly medicine. I love these rotten babies.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Today.
These things are medicine. Headaches and fear too, but mostly medicine. I love these rotten babies.
Monday, June 08, 2015
Gypsy got a facelift.
You know that sailboat Mack bought while I was out of town? Well, we are broke and Gypsy is gorgeous.
The first thing I decided to do was sew new cushion covers because I had no idea how to sew new cushion covers. I guess the horror of mustard yellow was enough to make me believe I could do it. Let me tell you, these were no ordinary covers. They had to have piping and zippers. And they had to have a pattern that aligned. And there was vinyl. And vinyl piping. And it's a miracle I am alive.
Since I discovered grossness that shouldn't be talked about when pulling out the cushions, I also decided to clean Gypsy's guts from top to bottom and all around in every nook and cranny with a magic eraser and disinfectant. Which is why I now have a lung disease and a new appreciation for flexibility.
Some cushions were just too ewww to cover, like the ones in the V-berth. Those smelled like 20-year-old piss, drunk sweats, and old oysters. I became a coupon hoarder for JoAnn's fabrics and bought new reticulate fancy foam for 40% off and made a new mattress. Then I bought some sheets from target and pinned, sewed, repinned, trimmed, and resewed them, which is a long way of saying "customized." There may or may not be duct tape holding the mattress position, but shut up because look how pretty the top is. And comfy. And smells so nice.
I really wanted to personalize the place with some artwork, so I bought the vinyl octopus legs for the slats (which is sailor talk for door wood). I also found an awesome sailor, an old-timey couple in a sailboat, and a photograph of a half naked Gypsy on Etsy that were perfect for giving the old girl some moxie and sex appeal. And lastly, I framed the letter that the previous owner wrote Mack when he left the boat because it was sweet and dreamy and on a brown paper grocery bag.
All these little touches (along with the cast iron mermaid bottle opener we inherited with the boat) has made Gypsy one of the happiest places on earth. I'm terrified to sail her, but luckily Mack is brave and I can be medicated.
Since I discovered grossness that shouldn't be talked about when pulling out the cushions, I also decided to clean Gypsy's guts from top to bottom and all around in every nook and cranny with a magic eraser and disinfectant. Which is why I now have a lung disease and a new appreciation for flexibility.
Some cushions were just too ewww to cover, like the ones in the V-berth. Those smelled like 20-year-old piss, drunk sweats, and old oysters. I became a coupon hoarder for JoAnn's fabrics and bought new reticulate fancy foam for 40% off and made a new mattress. Then I bought some sheets from target and pinned, sewed, repinned, trimmed, and resewed them, which is a long way of saying "customized." There may or may not be duct tape holding the mattress position, but shut up because look how pretty the top is. And comfy. And smells so nice.
I really wanted to personalize the place with some artwork, so I bought the vinyl octopus legs for the slats (which is sailor talk for door wood). I also found an awesome sailor, an old-timey couple in a sailboat, and a photograph of a half naked Gypsy on Etsy that were perfect for giving the old girl some moxie and sex appeal. And lastly, I framed the letter that the previous owner wrote Mack when he left the boat because it was sweet and dreamy and on a brown paper grocery bag.
All these little touches (along with the cast iron mermaid bottle opener we inherited with the boat) has made Gypsy one of the happiest places on earth. I'm terrified to sail her, but luckily Mack is brave and I can be medicated.
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