Tell me 'bout it, stud.

That was a line from our high school senior play. Can you guess which production it was? Grease, of course, and it was awesome. A dear friend of mine starred as Sandy alongside the guy half the girls were madly in love with at one time or another, whom she was madly in love with at that time, who...let me say...didn't have to stretch much to fit Travolta's role as the smoking-hot leader of the T'birds. My friend wasn't terribly shy, but she wasn't so super-confident as she is now (what seventeen year old kid is, right?), so when she had to cozy up to Danny, slide her finger down his chest seductively and purr out the line, "Tell me 'bout it, stud," she got a little nervous.

Today, I'm a little nervous. Not the act-out-seducing-your-high-school-crush-on-stage-in-front-of-hundreds-of-people-including-your-grandma nervous, but a little nervous, nonetheless. As many of you know, there's this groovy little website called Kickstarter designed to fund creative projects of all types. If you want to record that heavy-metal-meets-bee-bop album no one else seems interested in (and dude...really...no one else is interested in this...move on already), you can submit your project to Kickstarter and see if people are willing to fund it. Want to take your obsession with cats to a whole 'nother level and start a line of pet portraiture for your upcoming art show (okay...so maybe someone else is interested in this (says the lady with six pets)), slap that sucker on Kickstarter and get those peeps to bankroll it. Before you know it, you'll be ballin' like Mike (Jordan, that is (Can I just say that I always feel kinda creepy using that word to refer to the high life? I'm sorry, I just can't think "basketball" when I hear the term.). I knew nothing about the aforementioned grooviness until my little brother, who is far groovier than I am, told me about it last night, but I was so impressed with said grooviness that I submitted a project of my own - to bring 1000 vegan soaps to the huddled masses of Smalltown, LA skittering about the local arts and crafts festivals. We shall see if it gets approved, and then, you can all go see what an awesome project it is (and bankroll it, if you like...I won't stop you.). But I'm a little nervous. Will they like my project? Will they like my soap? Will they like me? (Well, of course they will, but still.)

So to compensate for this nervousness, I'm keeping my goals for today simple: buy groceries (shut up - it's a big goal when there's a moody two-year-old in tow, the closest decent store is forty minutes away, and there's still no asparagus), and find a stud. Bolt. A stud bolt. I'm trying to copy a design I found online for that stupid broken soap mold, and the thing involves stud bolts. I didn't even know what the heck a stud bolt was and of course, the guy who made the original mold didn't say what materials he used, but I squinted at the picture long enough to figure out what the hardware looked like, then scoured the five billion different types of fasteners on the Home Depot website until I found one that looked right. Yeah. That was fun. My husband does this on a regular basis - he'll spend hours looking at fireplace tools and fascia and...get this...he likes it. I don't like it, but now at least I know what the heck a stud bolt is. I need some wing nuts, too, but at least I already knew what those were and how to use the little suckers. I thought the whole mold would have to be trashed, but I think I salvaged the thing with some wood glue and the leftover nails and caulk from the chicken coop (shut up...the thing's going to be beautiful). And no. I'm still not posting a picture.