Plaster Caster: Plaster of Paris

Mommy claims to have spent large portions of her summer youth "on an island, in a tiny cabin, with no running water, no t.v., and a radio that only played Billy Joel's 'For the Longest Time.'"  We can't quite picture that (does that mean she didn't even know that Andy Cohen's got the 411?), but it (and Grammie B's imagination) appear to have supplied her with some sweet craft ideas.  We capitalized on that for another craft project at the Shore -- beachside plaster of paris.

I was pretty psyched when mommy said we were going to make "beach sculptures" like Strawberry Shortcake and her pals make in my new book from Nona (technically, I think it's Cami's, but I really liked her friend Angel Foodcake and seeing as Cami's objection skillz are somewhat limited (although growing steadily), I jacked it).  And I really liked gathering the water and shells for our sculptures.  But when mommy dug a hole in the sand and said that was going to be our sculpture, it turned a little abstract for me and I resumed stealing kids' sand toys.  Mommy mixed up the plaster of paris with some fresh water she carried down (technically the mixture is supposed to be 2:1, but when mom saw her window of opportunity closing quickly, she eyeballed it and it turned out fine).  I did help mom put some of the shells we gathered in the holes, but the remainder of my beachside involvement focused on trying to step on the plaster of paris once mommy poured it in the "molds."  After about an hour, she dug those suckers right up.  Back at Nona's we washed them off and left them outside to dry.

It just so happens that a serious storm rolled in the next morning and our sculptures got soaked.  But it was a good thing they did, because when we went to paint them with watercolors, the colors mixed and bled together and made tie-dye like rocks (which went well with our shirts).  They turned out super cool (although it probably would have been a good idea to put newspaper under them BEFORE we painted on Nona's porch.  But, like our hands and feet, the paint faded soon) and look great in Nona's porch boxes.  And the one that I actually succeeded in stepping in made a sweet footprint.   If we do this again, mom said we'll definitely soak the sculptures before painting.

The beachside "mold."

Sitting, waiting, wishing.

Looks intentional to me.

All cleaned up. 

Yes, Nona's neighbors DO love that we fly the Union Jack on July 4th.

Their new garden home.