Amanda is a Hamilton, ON based watercolour painter, sewing instructor, knitter, mother, and generally crafty person!

Please feel free to look around and hopefully be inspired in your own making!

Oatmeal: The Homemade Napalm

Oatmeal: The Homemade Napalm

Oatmeal

Welcome to the worst oatmeal experience of my life. 2 Days ago. And no, nobody could make this shit up.

It starts with me making oatmeal. In a skirt.

I did all the right things. I emptied the little packets into the bowl. I boiled the water. I added the water to the bowl. I stirred. I grabbed my spoon & oatmeal and walked out of the kitchen.

MISTAKE!

As I rounded the corner the bowl slipped from my fingers. It fell straight down and hit the floor like a rock. This caused the boiling oatmeal to explode.

Because of my skirt situation the oatmeal basically exploded into the area within the skirt as well as everywhere else within a 10 foot radius.

Burning hot oatmeal is like napalm. It sticks directly to your skin and begins to burn. And stick. And burn. And stick. And burn.

I immediately ran for the bathroom, thinking that a stream of cold water would be the only thing that could save me. I am not sure who I body-checked on my way through the kitchen, probably my mom. I only remember yelling "MOOOVE IT!!!!"

Who knew oatmeal could reach so far? Or that when oatmeal explodes it also quadruples in volume?

I was in the shower for a few minutes. Admittedly, I was doing a bit of skulking. Oatmeal burns are nothing if not humiliating. Finally Jay came to check on me and I was standing there in a dripping wet skirt, oatmeal still attached to my legs and all over the floor. He took one look and disappeared.

I probably looked too beautiful. That's why.

I made my way to the bedroom, feeling burned and embarrassed. Gingerly stripped the wet clothes over the burns. Took one look down and saw that my underwear was COMPLETELY covered in oatmeal.

I got the cackles. Yep. I cackle. It's like giggling, on steroids.

So.... my immediate desire was to show my underwear to someone. Brenna was my first victim and she kind of reared back, looking disgusted. Didn't find it as funny as I knew it was. Next I decided that this was something I needed to share with Happy Bunny while she is on her honeymoon. Thankfully, partway through finding my cellphone, I realized that sending anyone (even your best friend) pictures of gooey stuff all over your underwear would probably not go over that well.

I settled for blogging it, sans photographs.

Learn from me, people. Don't eat oatmeal unless you are in pants.

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