I are a genius!!

In keeping with my usual "hmm, how can I spend waaay too much time and effort on the [insert upcoming minor holiday gifting opportunity here] that the Things can hand out in class this month?" method of driving myself crazy, this weekend was the beginning of the crayon-hearts factory-palooza.

It was going pretty well, Thing 1 only wanted to partially bash to bits one bag of crayons before getting bored with the whole operation. Thing 2 could not be bribed to participate in any way. The Things think the finished products are way cool, however. I like projects where the Things want to participate, but I am just ecstatic as happy to do craft projects on my own. This one, from Family Fun magazine last year, seemed tailor-made for our overflowing bin of rejected crayons (crap I couldn't bring myself to throw away). You know, the fat ones "we're too old for these, Mom", the broken ones, from the "Mom! Mom! They make a cool snapping sound!" phase, the ones shaped like animals that you must anally probe in order to color with them. They've all come to the end of the road.

Today, its an OCD extravaganza: The sorting by brand (for consistent melt point)! The xacto-ing off of wee paper wraps! The removing of muddy colors (and setting them aside for lesser recipients? Nah, that's just cold-hearted.) The hammering into the exact consistency of perfectly balanced pie dough! In double zip-locks! The scooping of perfect portions into the heart candy mold tin! Oh! Simple fun!!

Well, like most things, its all laughs and grins, right up until I idiotically whacked the side of the heart tin against the freakishly reflective/invisible chrome moulding around our ancient oven, and splashed multicolored molten wax over a 5' radius. That's when the shrieks and cussing moans began. Fortunately, I had been smugly recording my progress on this project, thinking I would do a Martha Stewartesque blog post, so my camera was handy to record the horror. It was a pretty breathtaking mess, the photos don't do it justice. Spatter pattern worthy of CSI. The oven, the pan, the bottom oven, my new socks, the table and chair legs, the cupboards, the kickplate, the tile. The grout. Augh. The grout.

Several intimate hours with the iron, blow dryer and some rubbing alcohol later, the mess is all cleaned up. I still have about 3 more tins of hearts to go. And I will absolutely do them, if only to empty the dud bin.
[Insert expletive here.]

We went to In-n-Out for dinner. I was kinda done with the kitchen 'bout supper time.