Something New and Sparkly: Mellow Yellow Corsage Necklace

Mellow Yellow Corsage Necklace

I'm proud to introduce my biggest "go big or go home" corsage necklace yet - Mellow Yellow! Once I saw all those sweet ribbon flowers and ornamental birds in A.C. Moore, I was powerless to stop myself from cramming them all onto a single felt disc . . . But then, I like a necklace with personality, especially when it's paired with a retro-inspired polka-dot top. I just listed this one in my Etsy shop and was surprised to find that my homepage format had changed. (I'd read about this upcoming development somewhere but forgot that it was being implemented today.) The items seem bigger, or maybe they're just arranged so you can see more of them. Or maybe there are more of them. Darned if I know. What was clear was that the shop announcement is now teeny-tiny with an option to read the rest of the text in a dialogue box. Also, the navigation menu is on the left instead of the right. This seemed really weird to me, but now that I think of it, a navigation bar really should be on the left. Isn't it funny how you can get used to something, even when it's wrong? Although I'm not completely at home with the new layout yet, I must admit that the images look more enticing. Hopefully the shoppers agree :)

Tonight I got so caught up in my Etsying and blogging that I burned dinner! I was making this Sandra Lee recipe that I'd made only once before, with chicken breasts, grapefruit, mint, lime juice, and some other cook-bookish-sounding-stuff (I was trying to make something healthy for once). At one point, I tore myself away from my computer to check on it and was satisfied to find it bubbling away fragrantly, just like a good Sandra Lee dish should. Confident that all was well, I resumed blogging for just a few minutes. Or so I thought. But it must have been longer, because typing mid-sentence, I was disturbed by the faint sound of sizzling. I ran back into the chicken to find my poor chicken breasts lying on a bed of nasty-smelling charcoal. The bf (bless his heart) insisted they were still edible, so we ate them. But they were kind of awful. And I'm fairly certain that my largest KitchenAid frying pan is ruined. I always knew my narcissism would lead to destruction . . .