Category Archives: Projects
Hi, I’d like one day pass to Bad Idea Land. Yes, the full admission, including the water park. Thanks.
I should have known that today was going to be a Bad Idea kind of day by the way I had the urge do do SOMETHING from the moment I woke up, but no specific things in mind. That’s usually a sign.
The project I’ve settled on is hanging this shelf in my closet. It isn’t actually a shelf, it is two sturdy pieces of really nice scrap wood. I’ve been planning to hang them in my closet for months, if only I had brackets for them. Today, I suddenly have the overwhelming urge to hang them. Immediately. I cannot bear to live another day in a closet without a shelf!
Reasons this is a Bad Idea:
How many other important projects am I ignoring in favor of doing this very minor one? No clue, don’t care. Those will get done eventually, probably. I can’t think about them, the pressure to do this thing is too great. Or at least it was, before I got distracted by blogging about it.
Not taking thorough enough measurements.
I got the depth of the shelves and the height. But of course, since I was just buying brackets for the shelf, I didn’t know I’d need to know the length of the wall.
I also have no idea how many studs there are in the wall, where they are located, or how many brackets I need for the length of shelf I’ve got. I didn’t really think about that.
My shelves are 10.5″ deep. I got a bracket designed for 14-18″ shelves. I’m assuming I can rip the second shelf smaller and put them both on the same bracket… maybe. Only time will tell.
In-store scope creep.
I had a very, very simple plan. Go to the hardware store, buy some brackets to put up my shelf. And then my eye was caught by shelving units. Uh oh. They were so pretty! And they are the right height, if I set them on their side instead of using them upright! The price tag swayed me briefly, but I was able to talk myself into it with the promise of how awesome my closet is going to be. It will be organized like a BOSS.
And OOH PRETTY, I can put some of those cool fabric bins I’ve always wanted in them, and they are right next to each other on the shelf! So what if that is another factor of scope creep. I swear, they design these stores just for people like me who are easily distracted OOH SHINY.
Gotta be honest, I don’t really know what I’m doing. Generally I have a plan. Put together the two shelving units and put them in the closet, and then put in the brackets and mount the shelf above them. Ish. I may rest the shelf on the top of the lower one, or mount it five inches above, or more… I don’t really know. We’ll see. Something will happen! I might even ditch the shelf and the brackets, and go for just these shelving units, in which case I may need to go back to the store and buy another. If it’ll fit. But I have no clue how much wall space I have!
The purchases are still out in my car, and I’m sitting on the couch blogging about it. This is TOTALLY IMPORTANT, you guys. Seriously. I swear I’ll get to it, those things aren’t going to sit in my car and/or closet for the next four months before I actually get around to doing the work, probably.
Forgot to account for important factors.
Like the need for screws, both to attach the shelf to the brackets, and the brackets to the walls. I see another trip to the hardware store in my future. I probably have screws, maybe. We’ll see. We tend to pack-rat that sort of shiny thing, and the odds are good that I have some in close to the right size. And bolt cutters.
Things I did right:
- Remembering to bring my measuring tape to the store. Note that I don’t say INTO the store, I left it out in the car. Oops?
- Remembering to measure the depth of the shelves, and the available space below the kneewall. Though to be fair I only remembered to get the height because the husband suggested it.
- Took the time to think about what items I want to put on the shelves, and pictured them on the shelves. It looked great in my head. I have no idea if those things will fit on the shelves how I want, but I’ll figure that out.
- Talked myself out of buying two shelving units, which might not fit in the space available. Although I did buy another smaller one, which will definitely fit, but I might want to put it elsewhere in the closet.
Alright! I’m off to go put some things together and see what happens! Will I finish the project before I get bored of it? Will the need to go on another run to the hardware store make me lose interest, or bankrupt me? Who knows!
Wish me luck, Internet. I’ll let you know what happens.
I’ve been dragging my feet on making a First Post because (a) Lib set the bar of Awesomely Bad so high that the pressure’s really on, and (b) I have so many Bad Ideas that I don’t really know where to begin.
OK, mostly B. Sorry for trying to throw you under the Crazy Bus there, Lib-o-saur… 😛
My Bad Ideas usually fall into two distinct categories:
- Ridiculous applications of things I already know how to do. These can be particularly insidious, because they don’t SEEM like Bad Ideas initially. They BECOME Bad Ideas because I dramatically overestimate how many of them I can reasonably get done while still doing other things. Some examples:
- I want to transform almost every ball of yarn I touch into some kind of awesome self-designed sweater. In theory, this is fine since (a) I know how to knit (extremely well, if I can toot my own horn for a sec here), (b) I know how to write patterns for self-designed garments, and (c) I probably already own whatever size needles I need to make this happen. It becomes a problem when I want to do this with EVERY BALL OF YARN IN THE WORLD OMG, such that I have no less than 4 22-gallon storage bins full of Future Sweaters in my basement. And if I do out the math, even if I quit doing everything other than eating chocolate and sleeping for 6 hours a night (you know, the bare necessities), it would take me something like 3 years to finish them all.
- I want to write a ballet. I’m not crazy enough to think I can actually choreograph one (although if someone else wants to do this, I won’t stop you…), but I want to write one. Again, I play several different instruments, and know everything I need to know about the others to make this possible. I even own software such that I could write out the parts in a nice, neat, lovely printed format and have a virtual orchestra play it for me. But seriously? A ballet? I should really be writing a dissertation. Which was a whole other Bad Idea in itself.
- Enormous projects that sound spectacular, but for which I possess none of the necessary skills. I’m a pro at this, and especially at getting other people excited for such projects. However, I often dramatically underestimate the learning curve on the skills I will need to execute such projects. My current Big Bad Idea falls into this category, but I’m not ready to divulge that one publicly just yet. Other examples might include:
- Similar sewing troubles as recounted in previous entries by other conspirators. I am an OK sewer, but almost always take on MUCH bigger projects than my simple curtain-hemming skills can handle. As such, I get frustrated when I’m trying to Learn-As-I-Go, and usually end up ditching the project before it really has a chance.
However, I aspire not just to be a Generator of Bad Ideas, but also to be a Reliable Executor of Bad Ideas. I was greatly inspired by attending Burning Man this year, where I was surrounded by literally TENS OF THOUSANDS of people who would dream up completely ridiculous ideas… and then execute them… AND drag them out into the desert in the middle of nowhere so others could enjoy them! It was a transformative experience, but probably not in the traditionally-expected Burning Man sense.
So for my part, I’ve been trying to pare down the Lame Bad Ideas so I can focus on the Awesome Bad Ideas. This has been a process for me, and one where I’ve had to learn to let go of some projects that I know will never get done because my heart just isn’t in them anymore (if indeed it ever was in some cases). So while I will certainly be documenting many Bad Ideas here in this very blog, my goal is to document their progress and (hopeful) successful completion rather than just their conception.
So join me, yes? You know you love us. That’s why you’re here, and why we love you, too.
I have a secret confession to make. Its a Bad one, so brace yourself.
I own a sewing machine.
Yeah yeah, it doesn’t sound so awful, does it? At least until I let you in on my other secret confession: I can’t sew. Oh sure, I can make simple things, like pillows and blankets. Things that are square, with straight lines. I’ve even successfully hemmed pants.
I am fascinated with the idea of making my own clothing. I have been ever since I was a little girl. Not knowing what I was doing, I attempted to construct outfits for my teddy bears and barbie dolls, using scraps of fabric and elmer’s glue. The resulting misshapen, stiff garment-alikes were never used for long before they were discarded.
Disaster struck the day I inherited my mother-in-law’s unused sewing machine, along with a box of thread in every color, buttons, even a repair kit. But the machine never worked right, either due to mechanical flaw or my own failing in setting it up properly. I blamed my inability to make anything on the way it would bunch up the fabric and ruin my projects before they even got started.
Then I bought a new sewing machine, and actually took the time to learn to use it. I no longer had an excuse. Nope, I just can’t sew.
I still like to pretend I can sew. I’m smart, I can figure it out, right? I look at fabric and I see so much delicious potential. Its why I have four piles of fabric, with matching thread, buttons, and other “notions*” sitting in my craft pile. I look at them and can still picture in my head the skirts and shirts they might one day be. I can picture some of the steps required to construct them. Not all, but some.
It might help if I could follow a pattern. I tried once. I got an entire pair of pants traced and halfway cut out. I even got so far as sewing together the pocket. Now, seven years later, I still own a pile of pieces of pre-pant, and one very nice pocket.
Despite knowing full well that I cannot sew, I still somehow seem to think that I can. I think it is a form of madness, brought on by the smell of fresh fabrics, the tactile excitement of running my fingers over soft cottons. “I can totally do this,” is the lie I tell myself, followed quickly with “…and I’m totally gonna this time.” As though it is only loss of steam that stalls my sewing, instead of the truth, that I just don’t know what I’m doing and I give up when it is obvious that I have ruined something beyond my ability to repair. I don’t even know how to use a seam ripper properly!
My delusions of grandeur lead me to believe that I can make not only simple items, but complicated, involved projects like a halloween costume. So one year, I was determined to make myself a ladybug costume. Complete with a second set of jointed arms that moved along with my real arms. It would look SO COOL! My mental image made it look pretty awesome, at least. The fact that I had no idea how to make one was no concern, I’d figure it out as I went along, like I always do. I made a few sketches that were extremely rough, but already showing that I had no idea what I was doing. I ignored that fact, and proceeded to Goodwill to buy some supplies, and then to the fabric store for more.
I got as far as doing some passable shirt Mad Science, grafting the shoulders and arms from one shirt onto another. Some foam tubes provided the stiffness for the arms, and a pair of blown-up Nitrile gloves stuffed into a pair of gloves would be passable for a second set of hands. Lacking anything better, I used some thread to attach it to my arm at the appropriate points.
At this point, it was looking pretty good. I decided to make a mock-up of my idea for the vest and beetle shell. And then.. it gets a little fuzzy in memory. The Madness had overtaken me, which is never a good sign. I can’t recall exactly what happened, but I do remember the aftermath, of realizing that I had no idea how to make a vest. It took about three years for me to give up on this idea, though I never revisited it. I did eventually manage to let it go enough that I could throw away the evidence of my failure.
Maybe I’ll sign up for a sewing class.
* Notions are one of those things I absolutely LOATHE about sewing, and one reason why I won’t follow a pattern. I just unreasonably hate the term. It sounds so stupid. Notions are the crazy schemes in my head, not an actual real thing that I need to buy! I actually don’t know what it means, but I dislike it anyways.
Tonight’s unbearably strong impulse is to carve a pumpkin.
Fortunately, I possess no pumpkins. Cleanup is the bane of my existence, requiring far too much follow through to hold my interest. Late at night, it would have doubtless been forgotten. I would have wandered off, full of the smug satisfaction of a masterpiece completed, and leaving in my wake a gory mess of pumpkin guts, smeared across the tools and table to dry into a hard semi-permanent crust. Pumpkin chunks intended to become pie would desiccate on the table into a shanty town for my fruit fly population, seeds left in a bowl on the counter never to be roasted.
Despite knowing the likely outcome, It was all I could do to resist taking off at 10PM on a gourd-finding expedition. I was secretly hoping for an All Hallows Eve miracle. A horrible accident involving a pumpkin truck outside my door, or the pumpkin fairy magically manifesting in my kitchen and turning my common every day boring food items into carvable cucurbits. I even posted to facebook that someone should fetch me a pumpkin, knowing it would never happen but wishing that some intrepid enabler would hear my plea.
Instead of seeking out a pumpkin, I will placate the beast by posting photos of pumpkins from years past. These are examples of terrible ideas that turned out pretty okay, in the end.
2005 was the year that I decided five pumpkins was a fantastic number of pumpkins to carve. It started with a week of sketching, to make the perfect pumpkin plan. I carried a stack of drawings with me everywhere I went; work, dining out, to my parent’s house, and erased and redrew and traced furiously until I had my templates ready.
I can recall, about halfway through the last pumpkin, hand stained orange and cramping from hours of delicate carving with a flimsy blade on an awful plastic handle, thinking that there might be something wrong with me. But I absolutely could not rest until I had made one carving from each of my chosen templates.
The next few years were pretty tame, as far as pumpkin carving goes. I’d learned my lesson, it seemed, and avoided the Madness. I carved at my parent’s house so my mom would clean up after me, and stuck to one or two pumpkins only.
Then came 2008. Somehow my addlepated hampster-mind managed to cling to the idea that five pumpkins all at once was bad. But purchasing a brand new chisel set from one of my favorite stores, Harbor Freight, in order to carve pumpkins BETTER was a great idea. Sure, I’d never used a chisel and had no idea how. But that wasn’t going to stop me.
Fortunately, pumpkins are a very forgiving art form, and near-disaster was averted.