Magic Wiki Dress

So my husband had this great idea: he suggested I draw a Wiki Dress. That is, have a wiki (a page that anyone can edit) with a dress description, let everyone edit it for a few days and draw the results. So please edit the wiki however you see fit: I’m going to leave this up until noon (eastern standard time) on the 21st and at that point I’ll draw what got described in the wiki.
Edited on the 20th: I love how the Wiki Dress is going. I don’t think I’ll be able to just draw the final version, as I had planned — I’ll draw a couple of suggested dresses instead. That means there will be dinosaurs, yes.
Edited on the 21st: The Magic Wiki Dress is done for now — thanks to everyone who had something to add!

Khaki Trench Coat with Green Dress and Grey Boots in honor of Different Chairs and

Click for larger version; click for the list of dolls.

So my husband’s business is called Different Chairs, and he does a lot of different things, but chief among them is web development using Django. He has been helping put together a new weather site,, which just officially launched the other day. What’s so great about another weather site, you ask? Well, it shows real-time, helpful weather information, it has great animated maps that you can enlarge and it doesn’t have a lot of other information cluttering up the screen — just weather, right? Frankly, it has more weather information than most decent humans want to know, and my dear husband has been living and breathing weather for months now. (There’s a reason our new cat is named Radar. She narrowly escaped being called “Haircast.”)

So, in honor of Brian and the weather site, Sylvia and Iris can now brave weather in a cute short khaki trench coat, although you wouldn’t want to brave too much weather in a skirt like that, I guess!

The Good Queen’s undead nemesis seems to be catching up…

A Paperdoll Dress Made Entirely Out Of Tabs (for my husband)

Click for larger version; click for the list of dolls.

Thanks to Brian for putting together my April Fool’s joke yesterday. I’m, er, back from my ninja duties. (My mom couldn’t believe I was a ninja. That is why I’m such a very good ninja.)

As thanks to my darling husband, I made him a dress he’s always wanted me to do: a paperdoll dress made ENTIRELY out of tabs. I think you all are lucky that he actually isn’t taking over for me…

If it looks like I’m phoning this one in, well, I am (and depending on how I like it tomorrow, may redo it)… I worked on a new doll for today, and I like her but she’s not ready yet.

Good news, bad news

Click for larger version; click for the doll.

Hey, this is Brian.

So: there’s good news and there’s bad news.

So: what? There’s always good news. And always bad news.

But here we go:

Liana and I met about a decade ago. That’s a long story. You know 2001? This movie about time. Long story. Cave dude throws that bone up into the air — it spins — sunlight — cut to spaceship. Yes, the movie says, some deliberate, ordered sequence of events happened between the bone going up into the air and this spaceship out way beyond the bleeding edge of the sky. But none of that is important, now, since we’re watching this spaceship. And that’s sort of how the movie starts. People mark time. Birthdays, durations of video screen calls, all this garbage. And by the end, there’s all this weird kick the can stuff that makes you want to lie down in the wet popcorn dust on the theater floor and feel time and space and so forth kind of loop out, and then the guy is old, and he’s walking through these rooms, and then there’s this spacebaby. And that’s sort of how the movie ends.

The point being that I could go on for a long time about Liana, how we met, what a joy it’s been to have her companionship and sweetness and laughter since. But instead I’ll jump cut to the fact that, well, she’s gone.

I never had her pegged for the ninjitsu type. True, the warning signs were all there. But she’s up and left us. She didn’t write a note. Ninjas don’t write notes. Nor do they leave forwarding addresses, or even, apparently, lock the doors on their way out.

To the ninja, every door is unlocked. Locks are illusions. Doors are illusions, too. So it makes sense, from a certain perspective.

Hers, not mine.

So now you know the bad news. To wit: ninjas don’t draw paper dolls either. Paper shurikens, maybe. But then they cut them out with the force of a thousand burning eagles and — well.

Thinking about it, I’m glad I’m still alive. I was married to a ninja!

But I feel bad for all of you, who apparently derived some satisfaction from Liana’s paperdoll art.

And I feel bad for myself. Because, come on, I don’t know where she is. Maybe she’s under the fridge. Hiding in the cabinet. Hidden in the shadow of a table leg. Waiting to strike, with the force of a thousand burning eagle paper shuriken.

Hence I’m making the best of things, and I’ll be drawing some paperdoll costumes for you. That’s the good news.

Today’s doll is a celebration of Springtime in the Rust Belt. Frog legs for springing through the mud, a stupid hat for the usual reasons, and a sandwich board bedecked with the smiling sun, token of the King of Shadows and the elves, and also the only thing anybody drinks in this state between approx. March and September.

Happy spring. Also, send me your ninja evasion tips. I’m already doing all the usual stuff: garlic, wolfsbane, mousetraps.