DIY

Collegiate DIY and post-collegiate DIY are very different: the main difference being that one audience is generally very sober and one is generally very…not.

Let me start by saying that I am a professional DIY-er, and have been for a very long time.  My DIY portfolio includes Christmas Pageant garb, four years of sorority theme parties in upstate New York, and obviously Halloween (times three per year because, duh, college.) I haven’t purchased a Halloween costume since 2004.

That being said, my post-collegiate DIY has morphed into an obsession with apartment décor and creating a Pottery Barn feel on Dollar Store budget, and am on a never-ending quest to answer the “how do I make my frat house apartment not look like a frat house apartment?” question.  No answer on that just yet.

Additionally, being an adult has now afforded me the luxury of DIY in real life. [Real life meaning not stitching myself into a toga and calling it “sewing.”]  Now, I am hosting baby and bridal showers for women with real, expensive standards on a real, non-expensive budget. Challenge accepted.

Because of my uncanny ability to set unrealistic expectations for myself, I will share the easier DIY projects from my recent party. 

Most Recent DIY Event: Boyfriend's Sister's Baby Shower 

DIY baby banner 

Effort Scale: moderate

Price Factor: inexpensive

Wow Factor: moderate

The banner was made using thick, by-the-sheet paper found at Michael's.  I opted to use the same colors, but different patterns to make it less flat. If calligraphy isn’t your thing, you can also buy pre-cut letters…but where’s the fun in that?!

This DIY banner was super fun, and personalized the giant wall we were playing one-sie games on, but required lots of supplies, and even more glue-on-fingers.  Overall, not a show stopper.

DIY table sets

Effort Scale: easy

Price Factor: veryexpensive

Wow Factor: moderate to high

The centerpieces were simply mason jars with fresh sunflowers and assorted pumpkins.  To personalize, I created a baby photo montage of the Mum and Dad-to-be and recycled three old frames.  The baby photos were a hit, but the sunflowers were quite pricey. 

DIY Chalkboard

Effort Scale: moderate to difficult

Price Factor: inexpensive

Wow Factor: very, very high

These are so fun to make, if you enjoy doodling. All supplies, including chalk, can be found at Home Depot (but if you want chalk in fun colors, hit the CVS en route home. And, maybe get some Swedish Fish...)

If there was one highlight of the entire baby shower, it was the Chalkboard signs - the ladies simply could not get enough of them. If you like sitting on the floor and coloring while watching sports, this is a good craft for you.

DIY table decor

Effort Scale: easy to moderate

Price Factor: inexpensive

Wow Factor: moderate

Again, super cheap and super fun. I simply drew what I wanted to write in pencil, and outlined in marker.  Boyfriend and I also wrote a note to Future-Neice so that it could live in her nursery.

DIY Favors

Effort Scale: moderate

Price Factor: moderate to expensive

Wow Factor: low to moderate

No, I didn't make the wine corks, but I did make the tags!  Use a fun font, print out, and cut into circles, then simply tie ribbon into a loop and tape on the back.

This is how I tricked everyone into thinking I hosted an almost Pinterest-worthy party without breaking the bank.

Questioning Questions?

I ask meaningless questions, allegedly.

Boyfriend told me this with an accompanying eye roll immediately after I looked over at him and asked: “how often do you think someone throws up in the back of that cruiser?!” while we were watching “Cops.” [Please ignore the fact that we were watching “Cops.”]

Little does he know that I have only shared a small tidbit of the reel of questions that I actually had.

Why did the police just shove a smelly, fat, drunk man into the back of the car that they drive every day? How much booze does it take to get this giant human being as drunk as he currently is? Do they have a special transport car for those in custody that smell like perma-drunk? How do they drive a car that smells like perma-drunk man every day? What does a person that fat and that drunk even smell like? What if it is extremely hot? How do they get the smell out? This man is so drunk he is slurring. What happens if he throws up in the cop car? Do they have a giant hose to clean the car? Can they charge the drunk giant for throwing up in the police car?

These are all questions I had asked myself that I opted not to ask.  Really, he was lucky that I only asked one.

It was then that I realized that I may be the only person who contemplates these types of questions while watching reality law enforcement television, which leads me to my next question: how does no one else think about this?!

I had a similar experience last weekend when I realized that I am the only one who finds favoritism in Pottery Barn magazine extremely distracting.

For Pottery Barn and wasps everywhere, the monogram is an interior decorating staple, and thereby is a feature in every magazine. I find the monogram to be extremely distracting and have to investigate it with every PB mag I look in. Want to know my question?  Who has the monogram CME? CME is sewn onto something in every single Pottery Barn magazine, a close second being MHK. Go ahead. Look. My questions begin:

Who is CME? Does some big-wig Pottery Barn executive have a wife with the monogram CME? Does she get everything? How many monogrammed pieces can a single person own?  Who are the other monograms?  Where do these monogrammed products go after their use in the magazine?  Is there an employee rotation? Do they play psychic and assume someone with those initials will buy it and ship them used goods? Can I be put on the list of monograms?  Who gets the dog bed that says “Coco?!”

For a moment, after Boyfriend called me out on asking pointless questions, my feelings were hurt. Am I really that abnormal because my brain continues to ask? I’ve decided no. I’d rather be overly questioning than overly boring.

Dessert Was A Bad Idea...

Sometimes I have this weird moment where I say: “Self, maybe you are just a giant Hypochondriac and don’t have Celiac Disease after all. You should eat something with wheat in it…just to be sure.”

Then, days like Christmas Eve happen, and I re-learn that I never want to eat gluten ever, ever again.

I am super aware of what I put into my body.  Gluten hides in everything and I’ve learned that being a tad more relaxed on food research, especially during the holidays, always results in my curling up on the floor, wondering if I am actually going to die.

The floor is no place to spend your Christmas.  Trust me.

This year, our Annual Mother/Daughter Christmas dinner occurred on the Eve of Christmas Eve.  Second to Christmas itself, this tradition is my favorite evening of the year where my mother, our two friends, and I meet at a super-fun restaurant and laugh, drink, and eat delicious food together. This year, while we certainly laughed, drank, and ate; I opt to omit the “delicious” descriptor from our meal; our service was rushed, our waitress was distracted, and my scallops were burned.  I should have known then that dessert was a bad idea, but upon receiving the dessert menu, the words Gluten Free Chocolate Cake immediately got my attention.  Yes, just yes.

Usually I skip dessert, but because it was advertised specifically as gluten-free, we decided to get a slice for the table.  To be sure, as always, I confirmed with our waitress that the cake was actually gluten free, to which she said yes.  She even mentioned that they had a regular chocolate cake with gluten, but I reminded her of my allergy to wheat and she confirmed.  I should have known then that dessert was a bad idea, but went against my better judgment and trusted the waitress. 

I continued to ignore my gut when the cake arrived: it was the most beautiful slice of cake I had seen in a long time, partially due to my thinking I could eat it. It was delicious, and addicting, and I found myself devouring it with my usual self-control seemingly missing.  I should have known then that dessert was a bad idea.

Fast forward through my evening, I was restless and uncomfortable but thought nothing of it - usually gluten poisoning hits me soon after ingestion, so the thought never crossed my mind that she could be the culprit. In hind-sight, I’ve never willingly eaten something so saturated with flour: now, I think my body was in shock.

It wasn’t until the morning where I realized the searing pain shooting through my body was gluten, visiting for the holidays without an invitation. As it stood, I was due at my parent’s house for pre-Christmas festivities, so I made my way there, fighting the pain, pretending it could go away. It didn’t.

I’m sure my mother appreciated my holiday arrival which was something along the lines of: “Hi. Merry Christmas. Iamgoingtothrowupmovemovemove.”

I will spare you the details, because Google, but after trying to fight through the family dinner …and failing, I gave in to the Gluten Gods, and realized my Christmas wasn’t going to be the usual church-going, carol-singing, Santa-filled night. No lights, no carols, no laughing, no ho-ho-holiday spirit. Just me, my miserable self, and my rockstar boyfriend. Missing church on Christmas Eve was my ultimate nightmare.

Luckily, this Christmas, I was also witness to a true Christmas miracle.  As quickly as the poison came, it seemingly left.  That’s not to say I felt good by any measure, but on Christmas, I was able to co-exist and ingest food like a normal human without looking sloth-like. [Yes, that is actually what it looks like.]

I have taken small memories from this past Christmas Eve, and tucked them away to remember in times of Celiac Doubt, for the days when I’m just unsure if I am actually capable of lying to myself. No Kristin, you aren’t faking.  No Kristin, you can’t eat that roll. No Kristin, Christmas Eve 2013.