Nine Years

I wore a medieval gown a generous and talented friend custom made for me. The fabric was (and still is) a soft ivory, but it looks white in every picture. My long, dark hair falls down my back, the front braided (less than symmetrically) by my soon to be sister - in - law, who realized half way through that we should have taken time to practice before the big day. I chose not to wear a veil. The red roses in my hand were a last minute bouquet my soon to be mother - in - law assembled from flowers purchased from Costco just hours before.

The embellished sneakers I wore caught in the aisle runner; the park wouldn’t allow us to anchor it to the grass. My dad was reluctant to let go of my hand.

 But at the end of the aisle stood the only person I had ever loved, had ever wanted, had ever needed.   

We got married in front of the same fountain we had taken prom pictures under.  The Officiate had married most of my family, and although we had talked with her about our beliefs, during the ceremony all of our revisions were forgotten, but the I Do’s were heartfelt. And if we both had happy tears threatening to fall, they only served to make our eyes brighter as we walked back down the aisle together, fingers intertwined.

In the nine years that have come and gone since that joyous afternoon, we have lived with family, had our boys, lived on our own as a family, bought a house, had triplet girls, lived through darkness, had moments of shining happiness. 

The groom I walked to on that day is now my wife.

And we are stronger for it. Our marriage, our partnership, our love is stronger, and deeper for every step we’ve taken together. She is still the only person

 I have ever loved, have ever wanted, have ever needed.

 I now understand why her face is hidden in most of our wedding photos, why so many of her happy smiles were tempered with a trace of sadness. And why she doesn’t look at our old photos anymore. But her smile today is radiant. 

The joy of being who she really is burns so bright she almost glows.

Here’s to walking this path together, fingers and hearts still intertwined;

 to holding onto each other through both the smooth and the rocky.

Happy Anniversary, Beautiful Girl.

I love you.

  

Kid’s Quick, Dirty (and Cheap) Blaster Tutorial

Ok, my last few posts were pretty heavy. I thought I’d get off my soapbox for a bit and show you guys some last minute steampunk blasters I made for my kids.

We live near two great Renaissance Faires and were given some tickets. We had already gone to this faire opening weekend, so Hunny and I decided to take the kids for Steampunk & Time Traveler Weekend. I have been working on my gear for over two years but didn’t have near enough to outfit myself, my Hunny (who decided to wear her medieval garb with just a blaster) and our five hoodlums.

More accessories would be needed.

We only got the tickets a few days ahead, and our budget for anything is always tight, so the day before we went I took a break from the kids and hit the local dollar stores. A few hours (and $15) later I headed home with what I hoped would be enough supplies to give everyone that steampunk touch.

These are the pieces I put together for the kids to wear. The eagle pouch and belt set were for Elroy (he wore a frontier Doctor Who inspired look), the green blaster was for Bam-Bam (he went as a futuristic Indiana Jones type character), and the girls wore their pirate dresses from Halloween (without the jewelry) with one of the small blasters each.

Now, on to the tutorial . . .

I got these mini squirt guns in a three pack on Target’s dollar aisle last summer. They were transparent colored plastic that showed none of the fun (Hunny says Duck Dodgers -esque) detailing. Since paint doesn’t always stick to plastic (and I didn’t want to be constantly repainting them) I wiped each one down with acetone nail polish remover to rough up the surface. These were cheap enough plastic (three for a dollar) that the plastic got cloudy and the paint has stuck no problem. I tried using the acetone on the other squirt guns (both transparent and opaque plastic), but as they were a dollar each, the plastic was of better quality and the acetone didn’t rough up the surface (the paint on these has not stuck near as well and they are already in need of touch ups).

I used my enamel paints for this (because I already had them), but if I had had more time (or a larger budget) I would have probably done a base coat of plastic friendly spray paint and then used the enamel paints for the detail work. The yellow tube gun and muzzle are actually from a ‘ninja blow gun’ I picked up at Dollar Tree (the paint does not like this plastic; these pieces came home from the faire almost entirely yellow again).

Once the base coat was on you can really see how much detail was put into these molds, which I found fairly depressing. Someone had spent a good deal of time on each of these designs; not only are they being sold for next to nothing, they’re being molded in a plastic that makes all that detail invisible. *sigh*

After the base coat, it is simply a matter of deciding which details to use each specific color for (I try not to use more than 3 or 4 colors for any one piece, I prefer a more streamlined look) and painting (and repainting . . . and repainting . . . and touching up) until I liked the look of each one.

But what about the adults, you might ask . . . Hunny decided to be my ‘Companion’ (think Doctor Who, not Firefly) and carried the long muzzled blaster in a holster made out of a piece of cheap belt and a shoe lace (sorry about the focus, this one didn’t want to photograph nicely).

 

 I carried my ray-gun, wore my goggles, and wore this great pouch (found at Harbor Freight for under $20!) filled with dollar store bits.

 

In my kit were the painted out blow gun (2/3 of it anyway), a magnifying glass (I painted the rim copper with brass details), a pair of copper rimmed reading glasses (I got lucky with those, I got a pair for Elroy and just popped the lenses out so he could see, and painted 3 coats of iridescent nail polish on the inside of my pair so they looked like the lenses were made of mica), a plastic caliper from the same tool set as Elroy’s hammer (I repainted the handle, it used to be blue) and screwdriver. I also took a small wooden toy spoon, stained it using dark furniture scratch cover and glued some decorative plastic trim onto it. The trim was actually part of an old ‘viking’ helmet that I had used for another costume a few years ago and hadn’t survived the boys’ closet. I also got all of the decorations on Elroy’s belt pouch from this same helmet trim (I just painted out the pieces for the pouch). I even used one of the horns to make an alien tooth necklace for Bam-Bam’s costume.

Everything else was something we already owned (we keep an extensive set of dress up clothes for the boys as well as the girls, it comes in really handy and since I clearance shop after holidays, I’ve been able to pick most of the pieces up for next to nothing).

We had a good time at the faire. There were some really great steampunk outfits and weapons (one guy had a nerf rifle he had modified onto a 5 foot long bazooka, it still fired). We even got pictures with a guy doing a great 10^th Doctor cosplay (staying in the character you’re dressed as). Since Elroy and I are both fans of the series (since the 2005 reboot), that was a definite highlight. Totally worth the late night putting all the props together the night before.

Anyone else do any cosplay? Feel free to share any tips and tricks in the comments.

Arguing with Myself: Rape Prevention

Lately rape has been in the news quite a bit . . . 

Congress voted down the Violence Against Women Act.

 

Jyoti Singh Pandey, the 23 year old med student was brutally gang raped and beaten, days later dying from the event.

Notre Dame University chose not to bench 2 football players after separate allegations of sexual assault and rape, leading to the suicide of one victim.

Two members of Steubenville, Ohio’s high school football team were videoed bragging about taking a girl who had passed out at a party, stripping her, digitally penetrating her (fingering her), and taking her, unconscious,  to three other parties where they exposed her body to others, urinated on her and humiliated her.

 The boys still got to play . . . . 

I think the underlying reason that so many people are willing to use this as an excuse to ‘slut shame’ (she was drinking, out at night, wearing X style of clothing, was dancing, wasn’t a virgin and had it coming) or ‘victim blame’ (she fought back, didn’t fight back, should have done X to avoid the situation) is because rape isn’t generally understood.

 

Most people believe the fallacy that rape is an issue of impulse control.

That rapists can’t control their sexual urges.

That rape is about sex . . .

Rape is about power and control, not sex.

Rape is about taking the power to consent away from the victim, about proving the rapist has more power because they can make you submit to them.

That the rapist is entitled to the victim’s body, to sex,

even to the victim’s life.

I have been lucky. I am 31 years old and have not been the victim of sexual assault or rape. But there is a very real chance that at some point in my life I will be, simply because I’m a woman. My sister and three other friends over the course of my life have been. My daughters, my sons (men are as vulnerable to rape as women but very, very few report it), my wife (she’s at higher risk because she’s transgender), everyone I love has the potential to be a headline.

Or, far more likely, not make the headline.  

Prevention isn’t about the victim avoiding being victimized. That hasn’t worked in the past, and isn’t working now.

Rape prevention is about people, men as well as women, working to change the conversation. Parents teaching their sons and daughters that only yes means yes. That being drunk doesn’t equal consent. That no does not mean try harder.

Custador, a fellow blogger who writes at Unreasonable Faith ), has made this pledge in order to help do just that . . .

 

I will never condone rape or support rape culture in any way. I will object, loudly, when a rape joke is told. I will not tolerate objectification of women, amongst my male friends or amongst anybody else. I will do my best to be aware of my male (and white, and straight, and middle class) privilege, and to not take advantage of it. If and when I have children, I will try to educate them to critically appraise the media to which they are exposed and be aware of the gender messages within it. I will not spend money on any product, company or media which I am aware of having promoted rape culture or gender disparity, regardless of whether they have done so deliberately.

 

I think most of us, men and women, can get on board with that.