Yardwork has created a deep vendetta within me against all plant life.

It started out innocently enough -- weed this patch of dirt by the garage.

No problem, right?  I can weed.  I can yank plants from their life source with ease and aplomb.  Piece o' cake.

One dirt clod and two sticks to the eye, and unseemly amounts of my own blood later: Everything's a weed.

Salads never tasted so good.

Rawwwwwwwr.

In other news, I have finished the Bum Roll.  This lovely little thing helps Elizabethan skirts stick out and transfers the weight of the fabric.

....It looks like a burnt croissant on steroids.  Kid you not.  {{What I get for making it out of black canvas.}}  My God, this thing is HUGE!  Is it supposed to be that big?!  I could serve drinks on it.  There's enough stuffing in this thing to confidently knock someone out {or decorate a haunted house -- we ran out of stuffing, so I resorted to faux-cobweb-in-a-bag.  It was great suddenly coming upon a massive black arachnid when I thought I was still in regular stuffing *insert high-pitched scream here*}.

All in all, a very fulfilling day.  Days without school tend to be.