OldBagNewTricks

Dreamers to Doers!!! Terry Needs your vote

2009-09-16T22:50:00.004-04:00

Hello Bloggedy Buddies -- this is from the land of Martha Stewart who is running a contest of some pretty terrific business women who are making their dreams come true. Some of these spectacular women are building their business for themselves, by themselves, which is no small thing. But one special contestant is building her design business while she significantly helps women in shelters feel... well, more homey, less needy

Terry Grahl designs and decorates women's shelters. Imagine being in a situation where you have no place to go... or rather the only place to go is cold and gray and scary, furnished entirely with castoffs and leftovers. You've gone from a bad situation to a bleak one -- a further burden standing between you and normal life.

Enter Terry Grahl who designs cheerful and charming rooms and public areas via her non-profit business, Enchanted Makeovers. Terry transforms women's shelters into places of peace and possibilities. Her rooms are designed to lift the spirit and to help a woman feel whole and valued, less like a second class castoff herself. What could be better than that?

If you believe in the work Terry is providing, follow this link and vote for this wonderful woman: http://dreamers.marthastewart.com/profiles/blogs/vote-for-your-favorite-doer-of

Where in the World has Jenny Been?

2009-08-31T09:04:00.005-04:00

Hello, hello Blog Buddies -- I do apologize for disappearing for a while. It's been a kind of crazy summer. I did not disappear for any real good reason other than I had nothing much to say.

Well, it has been busy-ish, sort of. Early in the summer my son and his wife bought a dear little house. This took what felt like forever to close and then another big chunk of forever for them to paint, pack and move. It's a very dear house... with a darling yard... in which reside the most vicious chiggers! I offered up a spreader and the meanest chigger killer I know -- you haven't lived till all your public and private parts have been bitten up by chiggers. Eek! You will thank me for not documenting that bit of news on my wee blog.

At some time over the summer we started the Great Porch Project. If you recall I took the porch down last spring -- not this past spring but rather spring of 2008! It's been a tragedy of architects. The project is frankly too small to be bothered with, although a flurry of architects and plan drawers promised to squeeze it in on the side. They never did. One after another promised, though none delivered till finally I tracked down a woman architect who kept her word. Her drawings passed the building permit process. Hooray. So now I have a building permit. We have dug and poured the footers, which passed inspection. The framing for the floor is now complete and is awaiting inspection. This has been such a slow laborious, frustrating process that I'd just as soon not blog about it.

Other little odd things have included finding a cousin who has been missing for most of 40 years. We were very very close as children and then... life happened. I saw him once for a few minutes, at a family funeral some 15 years ago. And then poof, gone again. It was wonderful finding him again, finding him safe and sound and living very nearby. This would have been an eventful blog post... if not for the tangle of emotions that come with it. People don't make themselves scarce for no reason...

Here's another not so fun tidbit -- I've been sidling up to a diet, unsuccessfully for several months. Do you know how Oprah announces that we should not spend another summer fat. Well I did and I am not real happy about it. In fact today I feel very fat. Harrumph.

There are projects going on, but nothing ready to show. The beginning stages, fiddling with designs and colors, even deciding which projects are going to stay and which will never see the light of day... hardly worth a blog post.

So, I have been sort of busy, I have been at wit's end and largely witless. I didn't mean to slip away... I just didn't have anything much to say. I'm hoping all of you have had a much more fascinating and productive summer than I have... this can not have been hard.

I am here now, waving happily and cheerfully to all of you. Now that autumn is upon us... I'm hoping that a change of season will bring about a change of attitude and momentum. A girl can dream.

There we are, Dear Blog Buddies -- I am back.

Back from another Polo Weekend

2009-08-30T16:48:00.006-04:00

I Love polo. I have been around polo for all of my adult life. It was entirely by accident. I grew up on a small farm. Surrounded by big farms. One of the big farms included a polo field and a family who was very involved in polo. Their youngest daughter is my age -- I've known her since before kindergarten. This is how I came to polo. Polo involves a lot of work, a lot of hands. Mowing the field, taking gate fees, hiring goalies, finding grooms, finding an announcer, preparing food for the refreshment stand, preparing food for the after game picnic. One does not even have to see a polo game to be thoroughly wiped out with the work required so other people can see the game. But if you actually do get to see the game it is very exciting -- like football and golf... on horseback.

It is loads of fun. You meet the nicest people. There is lots of food and an endless stream of interesting drinks.

This adorable Castle Cake is for a very lucky Princess whose 1st birthday happened to fall on game day. I'm guessing that someday, if she asks very nicely, she will get her very own pony. And why not?

As often happens polo games center on some charity or another.

This particular game supported an Indianapolis program called HELPING HER HEAL. It is a very cool charity that supplies the needs of women who are undergoing cancer treatment. (I say women because this program focuses on women's cancers -- breast cancer, ovarian, cervical -- women's cancers.) And what needs are provided, you ask. Any need. If the a woman needs her electric bill paid, Done. If a woman needs school clothes for her child, Done. If a woman needs transportation to her treatment, Done. Is that the right kind of charity, or what? Over the last several years polo teams have diminished somewhat -- once upon a time there were more than 300 teams nationwide. Cincinnati, where I live, used to play Cleveland, Columbus, Dayton, Indianapolis, Lexington, Louisville, Darlington and Sewickly. Of these the only Team I know remaining is in Indianpolis. So every year my boyfriend is asked by the people who own the Indianapolis team to come announce their two biggest charity games. By association I get to come too. Lucky me. He announces and I schmooze, even though he is a much better schmoozer than I am.

So there we are, at the polo game again this weekend -- I hope they raised a whole bunch of money for a really worthwhile charity. I know there were a bunch of people who certainly had a terrific time.

The Gift

2009-05-18T10:01:00.005-04:00

Have you seen this book? THE GIFT OF A YEAR. It's lovely. It's a book club selection of an on- line women's business group I belong to. I never would have thought of this on my own. The Gift of a Year... to me... Oh My Goodness, just like you, I have so many things to do for so many other people each and every day, how could I possibly give myself a year?

Um, but wait... how could I not? Whose life is this? And how much time are we talkin' here? Every waking moment of every single day devoted entirely to me. (All me -- all the time?Frankly I am not that interesting. By the middle of the second day after a very long nap I would be bored smack out of my mind.)

But all me in small doses... I think I like that. According to the book everybody's gift to themselves is as individual as they are. One woman gives herself a year to redecorate her house. Another one admits she's sick to pieces of where she lives, where she works and who she's involved with and that this year she plans to remedy all of that. One woman simply wants a year of naps and catching up on reading -- essentially to slow the crazy-making pace she's been on.

And me? What do I want from a year?

I want to take care of myself. It isn't just about dieting, getting skinny or looking good in cute clothes, although that would be great. But what I want, down to the core, is to energize my body in ways that will result in my body energizing me.

I've hired a trainer, I've restocked my pantry and my fridge. I work out. I plan my meals. I think about what I'm doing. Wine, yes. Buttered popcorn, no. I need every brain cell and every muscle I've got left. I'm not interested in getting older and grayer and slower. What I want to do is get older and busier and to go go go in ways I could not when I was younger, child-encumbered, work-buried.

Did it ever occur to you to give yourself the gift of a year? What would you give you? Foreign language? Foreign travel, belly dancing classes? A great yard? I might give myself some of that too -- but I am thinking, first things first -- who knows what getting in shape might lead to. And by way of a small me, this could be the start of something big.

Just for Giggles

2009-05-10T09:10:00.004-04:00

You know it's a good day when it starts with a bucket on your head...

And if life doesn't hand you enough obstacles, make your own.

I'm just sayin'... it's a choice... cry over spilled milk or party like it's 1993.

So, Yo Dude, rock on

Grace Loses Her Hens

2009-05-06T21:41:00.004-04:00

http://news.cincinnati.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/AB/20090430/NEWS0108/905010331/

I haven't any photos for this one -- only that link to our local paper -- The Cincinnati Enquirer -- which ran a story regarding Grace Harpen being forced by her township to get rid of her three backyard hens.

Please check it out -- this is so unfair, and frankly just plain crazy. People can keep potbelly pigs, pythons and dangerous dogs... but a hen is a nusance! I am outraged. It isn't that Grace lives in the center of Manhattan -- she lives in an ordinary neighborhood of ordinary houses. There are no sidewalks. The neighborhood is neither grand nor pitiful. And yet the township considers hens to be "livestock" (though not pot belly pigs) and there is an ordinace against livestock.

I am not sure how, but I'd oh-so-much like to help change this ordinace -- whether at the township level or at the state level. If anyone has any ideas, please share. I'm not yet ready to organize a letter-writing campaigne, but at some point I may beg for letter-writers.

Please read Grace's story. I've known her since we were 12 -- she's my oldest friend in the whole world and the the most inoffensive person I've ever met.

Thank you so much Blog Neighbors -- if you have any ideas, spill them.

I was at the pet store, see...

2009-05-06T09:19:00.007-04:00

I am tickled and delighted to announce the newest member of our family -- Little Miss No Name!!

The acquisition of this dear little baby girl is entirely a blog phenomenon... Some weeks back I was showing off my new and improved dining room, with the pretty plaid drapes and the inspired china rack designed by me... where tucked in the back corner was an old fashioned bird cage, a decorative thing, an after-thought really. But someone (Dori) asked if anyone lived there.

Live there? A bird? Me, a bird keeper? I am planning to get chickens (the rule is I can not get chickens till after I get the blessed front porch restored... if it were up to me I'd have the hens, a hen house, a hen run and phooey on the porch, so i have to put in place rules designed to keep me in line.) But I'd never really thought about a bird. Not the way I'd once thought about a kitten. When I got my first indoor cat some thirty years ago I was 6,000 miles from home, pregnant and if I didn't get something in my arms to mother soon I liketa died! I desperately wanted that kitten. I sought her out, carried her home, named her Gillian and she was my right-hand man, er, cat, for 18 years. But a bird? I'd never really thought about... not till someone (Dori) merely queried if someone lived in that bird cage.

My Boyfriend wondered the same thing... was I ever going to get a bird for that cage? Silly Boyfriend doesn't know the difference between someone wanting a bird and someone wanting a bird cage. He understood the former... but the latter blew his little male mind.

But then we went to the pet shop to get water conditioner for the pond... and as long as the parakeets are right there, we could at least look... Oh my heavens. That is always my swan song... just a peek.

So now I have this dear wee bird who has no name. I have a little list going... but I'm really kind of stuck. Wee Birdy needs a name -- so would you be so kind as to make suggestions and help me name this little nameless bird?

(Isn't this better than a dead fish story? Yes, a live bird trumps dead fish every time.)

Here Fishy, Fishy, Fishy

2009-05-04T08:33:00.004-04:00

Of course it had to come to this -- spring cleaning of the pond. Personally I am a little ho-hum about real spring cleaning. Frankly I don't have a week to dismantle my house. sort through all the linens, repair tattered edges, discard everything that's beyond repair, beat rugs, scrub ceilings -- good grief, does anybody do any of this any more? In my own house I give everything a good vaccum, spray all the corners with Renuzit and call it a day.

But the one thing that could not be neglected, ignored, overlooked or dispensed with was the pond. After a long winter of battling leaves and algae and other icky stuff, my fishies were much in need of fresh and clean digs. Despite their protests to the contrary I am only guessing that they do not really love that dirty water. I certainly could not stand to look at it another minute.

Not to be too hasty, before I could empty out and clean the pond, what I needed to do first was move the fishies to temporary quarters. Let's see, with all the new babies there are roughly 30 fish in all... these storage tubs filled with their own familiar brackish water would fill the bill.

And then to catch the fishies... you'd be surprised how unwilling these fishies were to be caught. Despite the sludge and mess in their home, despite the promise of better things to come, they were really very happy where they, thank you very much.

Just to catch fishies and empty the pond ended up being an all-day event.

Here I've taped the pump hose to the garden hose so's the water could be drained down the driveway and not flood my yard -- it's a good thing.

By the time the fishies were caught and the water was drained the sun was setting oh-so-low in the sky. Boy were my muscles aching. Catching fish is brutal, bending, swishing, missing, bending swishing, catching, carry to the holding tank, back to bending. And a couple of these guys held out till the very bitter end.

The plan for the next day, Sunday, was to remove the liner, scrub it of all traces of algae, replace it into the pond, shore up in sagging spots, fill it again and return all thirty or so fishies to the fresh clean home. The Boyfriend had agreed to help and there is nothing more fun than working with him -- he makes great suggestions and he makes me laugh -- how good a day is that?

Imagine the horror the next morning when I went outside in my jammies to check onmy fishies to find some 7 fishies, including my very biggest fantail, lying dead on the pavement around the temporary tank. OMG, had they leapt to their doom. Was the trauma too much? Had they hoped to leap back home? I hadn't thought to screen it in any way. I was worried about oxygen getting in, not fishies leaping out.

Oh, but wait! The big fantail blinked. Was that a blink? Was it possible she was still alive? I picked her up and slipped her back into the tank. Holy Smokes and blesssed be -- she was still alive.

The rest of the day was a worry and a concern. I was too upset to even think about taking more photos. The Boyfriend helped me remove the liner. We dragged it out to my driveway, scrubbed off all the algae, without slipping on our fannies even once. The low sagging spots around the back perimeter of the pond edging were shored up and the liner was replaced. Whilst the hose pumped fresh water into the pond I made us a nice lunch and we watched Bullwinkle. How nice a day is that.

To replace the fishies from the holding tank back into the big clean pond I needed to dechlorinate with water conditioner and I needed to float the fishies in plastic bags, so the temperature change would gradually acclimate and the fishies would suffer less trauma. So little by little I caught the fishies in the holding tank and shifted them into big plastic bags to float in the fresh pond.

Imagine my surprise when I got to the last of the fishies and hadn't yet transferred my two very biggest -- a very large bronze fish and a very large calico. How does one loose 7 inch fish?

And then the whole picture of my fishies that morning having leapt to their doom came clearer. They'd been invaded... something snatched them. A cat or a raccoon had gone fishing and hit the jackpot.

I am trying to not be too devastated... but I feel I failed to protect them. I hadn't guessed there might be danger. What I am grateful for is that whatever marrauder snatched up the bigger fish and laid waste to the half dozen others didn't entirely knock over the hold tank and kill them all.

There are now 26 fishies, all the more wary and wiser for it, swimming in the fresh clean pond.

Whew! The ugly part is done!

The Difference a Door Makes!!!

2009-04-22T08:35:00.008-04:00

The question isn't whether I have Too. Much. Stuff! The fact of it is I have a very tiny house and no place to put the stuff I have -- which makes me wonder why I bother ever to buy anything new.

See... clutter gone wild!

I built this cabinet, heretofore referred to as the Mother Of All Cabinets (MOAC), because all that stuff you see living in it now had previously no place to live at all. There are cleaning supplies on the right and office supplies on the left. If it weren't here it would be... everywhere. Piled, stacked, shoved into corners, spilling out of drawers. The upper left houses excess baking pans (like I bake!!! ROFLMAO!!) The center is Command Central -- TV- computer-printer. What more could a person need? Not to see it all hanging out all the time would be nice.

Even with the MOAC built and in place and filled there is clutter spilling out everywhere. Aaaaaaaaagggghhhh. There I am, still in a complete shambles all of the time. I am not built for this kind of mayhem. At this stage of the game, and I am loathe to admit this, who I am is a "place for everything and everything in it's place" kind of girl. There, I've said it. My name is Jenny and I like, no, I require, an organized life.

When I moved into this house there were exactly two closets. Neither one of them in the master bedroom. One was a coat closet in the dining room -- an afterthought of a thing wedged into a corner built for the primary purpose of hiding a radiator pipe. The other "closet" was tucked under the eaves of a second bedroom. It is what normal people in normal houses would call a cubby hole.

Before moving into this house I never before thought about stuff, excess or otherwise. If I needed a new pair of pants I simply went out and bought them. I didn't stand in the store and wonder what on earth I would do with them once I got them home. But in this house, everything has to be thought out. Printer paper? Ammonia? Dog leashes? Where, oh where, am I going to put it?

And there I was with this big expanse of wall... standing there doing nothing. Eight feet of blank space...

Building the cabinets themselves was not particularly tricky. Any four-year-old understands the concept of a box, which is what every cabinet is. Other than the lumber being very unwieldy -- a concept not at all understood by the people at the lumberyard who sell it to you. "Little lady, wouldn't you really rather have 3/4" ply?" Well, yes, the Little Lady would but the Little Lady can't freakin' lift it, so we'll just muddle along with 1/2", thank you very much.

The tricky part was the doors. But they are the most essential part too. I don't have the right tools -- or the wherewithall -- to build doors. Oh, thank heaven for brothers. My brother has not only the right tools, but the know-how. Hooray! Hooray for brothers. Hooray for doors.

There. Isn't that better? All nice and tidy and tucked away. A person can walk through the room without being assaulted by a barrage of stuff.

Clearly I am still deciding on color.... Black? White? Medium glazed amber beige? I will think about color tomorrow. Today I will open my little TV/computer cabinet and simply breathe, calmly, in and out. Ahhhhh.

Doors. Don't you just love them?

Support Your Local PBS Station!!!

2009-04-07T22:29:00.005-04:00

I've been watching PBS forever -- haven't you? I know, I know, some folks think this is strictly a high brow thing to do, like yachting or joining the Junior League. Well, maybe other folks don't watch PBS the way I do. I started watching PBS when it featured the indomitable Julia Child -- and not because she made a first rate coq au vin. I watched her because I was nine years old and she talked funny. I had a secret private my very own TV and I was the only one in the house who could get the "UHF" stations and so I watched. I watched Julia and Big Bird. I watched Alistair Cooke and there was nothing high brow about it.

PBS took me to China and Alaska, it explained things the president said and it brought me Kukla, Fran and Ollie. I LOVED Kukla, Fran and Ollie.

And so I do this tiny little thing of donating to their Action Auction. The thing I have in abundance are doggie accoutrements -- a bed, a carry-bag, a water bowl, a collar and leash. This year the bed is paisley. Pink. And green. Last year it was red plaid.

Isn't the bed cute?

It's even cuter with Talia in it... but I draw the line at donating Talia. She's mine all mine.

See, the stuff I watch on PBS isn't high brow at all. In fact, I watch a lot of dumb stuff -- bad mysteries, old movies, woodworkers, seamstresses, painters. I once spent an entire rainy Saturday watching ANNE OF GREEN GABLES from beginning to end. The wonderful thing about donating to our local PBS is that when I am watching my favorites (or parking my grandson in front of Big Bird exactly the way I once parked his father, my son, in front of Big Bird) I don't feel one bit guilty the way I would if I didn't offer up so much as one thin dime.

Talia likes donating to PBS too -- she'll gladly trade in this bed and settle instead for a place on my bed. It's big of her.

So what's your favorite can't miss PBS show?

Bloom Where You're Planted

2009-04-02T09:15:00.004-04:00

Surely, I am delighted to have laid not one, not two, but three lengths of fabric cloth in the Children's Garden. That's 150 feet of garden fabric stretched, overlapped, pegged and trimmed. This is the garden fabric so carefully fitted so's errant plants and weeds don't come bursting through...

And yet, how to complain about Daffodils... I should be thanking my lucky stars that they were determined enough to bother.
And these little daffodils popped unexpectedly in the lilly bed

My guess is this is the work of an industrious squirrel who must be thinking this compost bin is sort of an outdoor pantry.

However they got here, wherever they grew, I've gathered daffies from all over my yard for a beautiful indoor bouquet.

Sick, Sick, Sick!

2009-03-31T09:47:00.003-04:00

I can't tell you how much fun this has been...

Endless Entertainment

2009-03-16T23:13:00.004-04:00

I could watch this for hours - the cat grabs the dog and the dog grabs the cat and the cat grabs the dog, on and on it goes, round and round, day after day. Are they fighting? Are they dancing? Who's to say... all that's for sure is that I am the cheapest of cheap dates. I could watch Bailey and the Beloved Talia square off and spar endlessly.

I'm not sure precisely when this started... but it started with a whole different cat. It started with Maggie who was black and white and practically perfect in every way. My current two cats have issues, as do many cats... with a capital I. But Maggie was a text book perfect cat. Charming pleasant, didn't tear up mail, pee on carpets (or shoes or the stove -- I once knew a woman whose cat regularly peed on her stove!!!!) Maggie was perfect. And she played a perfect little game of "Poke" with Talia. With her nose Talia would poke Maggie before hurriedly darting backward before Maggie could liesurely grab her. Then Talia would dart in for another quick nose poke to which Maggie would calmly stretch and reach out for another grab. It was a sweet game - kind of quiet and charming, like watching two little kids taking turns to play jacks.

Suddenly one weekend Maggie sickened. She was gone before we knew it. Our Practically Perfect Maggie. We missed her terribly -- none of us missed her more so than Talia. For weeks Talia had that lost look, a little sad, a little confused. But I give Talia huge credit for her attempts to rally. She first tried to play the game with Molly. I should say that Molly is 16... you can only guess how little Molly was up for a game of Poke!

Talia then tried Poke with Bailey... who was NOT amused. "Poke me, will you?" Bailey hissed. Talia's face was priceless. She had offered her greatest gift -- the invitation to play Poke and the snotty haughty Bailey had the nerve to hiss! Harrumph!

But maybe hissing wasn't so bad. It wasn't the way Maggie had played the game... maybe Talia could teach Bailey the rules. Maybe they could take the game of Poke and make it their own. Maybe.

Poke has evolved into a game of Grab-n-Snatch. It is not a quiet little parlor game. It's a tumble-bumble raucus good time. Talia pounces on Bailey, Bailey pounces back. It is anybody's game. There's an object lesson in here about resiliencey and evolution and blah, blah, blah... but mostly it's about the little white dog and the big black cat making splendid good fun.

The Big Reveal!

2009-03-11T10:01:00.011-04:00

For most of us we are never truly DONE with home decor -- we're forever adding, a plate here, a throw there... or taking away, the vase that doesn't work, the print that misses it's mark. So I can't say I am done.... but what I was shooting for is "livable". (My secret dream was for my rooms to feel like a jewel box. From the sub-standard, less than humble beginnings, what I had were HIGH HOPES!)

That was then:

This is now:

Notice the picture on the wall above the pitiful blue chair never changed.

It started with removing this wretched radiator! My problem with the radiator is that it extends beyond the window (read drapes) by several inches. My second problem with the radiator is that even an attractive cover would have resulted in a large "dead zone" in an already small room. Clearly the radiator HAD to go.
Here's the radiator:

Here it's gone:

Here's the result:

Finally, this shot of my living room, is from the space between those dark cabinets (where the radiator used to be) looking squarely across the room.

The dining room was another "Project". Initially when I moved into this house I did not want a "Full Time Dining Room". Thinking that we use a dining room twice a year and I use a work room on a daily basis, what I wanted was a Full Time Work Room and a Part-Time Dining Room. But it did not work out...

It wasn't a bad idea... the problem was that I did not take this room seriously. I didn't really "decorate" it. I kept the ratty old carpet, I did nothing to disguise or gussy up the lower cabinets. I did not consciously worry about storage or edit my projects and materials. The room quickly grew into an Unmanageable Monster Mess.

So I took it apart -- moved the work room upstairs...

And reclaimed the dining room...

It has been a very long process -- it started with having the radiator removed and baseboard radiators to replace them. Then there was installing the carpet. Both were projects I hired outside contractors to do. Everything else was all me. From painting the walls to dyeing fabric for the drapes, sewing the drapes, upholstering the furniture... oh, I did have my boyfriend build the china rack. I even learned to matt my art -- not because I am such a stickler for details... though maybe I am, but because of "creative differences" with the frame girl at Michael's (let's not go there).

One of the cabinets in the living room had to be, shall we say, rescued. It feels like a baby's bottom now, and I've turned it into a first rate liquor cabinet with a wine fridge and all, but when I first suggested bringing it in the house the looks I received were shock and horror.

It's been a lot of work and there are still things to do... but we've gone from a frightful chaotic mess to pretty and presentable.

And during the process there were birthdays and holidays. I did the kitchen too. And the occassional time off for good behavior or to prevent bad behavior. So I hope you can understand why there were weeks, even months, when I was silent here... there just wasn't much to report... there were often things I'd rather not mention... But finally, finally, I have what feels like a home. Ahhhh.

Hooray!!!

2009-03-05T11:20:00.006-05:00

Looky!!! It's done, it's DONE, it's DONE!!!! Lest you think I've been lounging about popping bon-bons... shall I say, I've been indispoed. I could not be happier or more thrilled!!!! My beautiful, wonderful, spectacular chair is DONE!

Remember where it started!?! This is my shame, my embarrassment -- worse even than the Heartbreak of Psoriasis!!. This chair was loved. A LOT.

The Naked Truth.

It looks way better with Talia in it, don't you think?

Best to rip it up and renew it's dignity. I like this part -- it's satisfying and already the ugly chair looks better.

This part, though, I especially HATE. This is the cushion getting it's piping. Of all the things I sew, and I've sewn everything including dog collars and leashes, velvet capes, a Batman suit, pillows, drapes, dust ruffles, duvets -- all the usual suspects, prom dresses, baby clothes, hands down a seat cushion is the absolute most hateful hardest. All those fiddly corners, fitting the final ending of the piping... or maybe I am just a whiner.

But Tah-Da!!! Let's look at it again!!! Ain't it purty!?!

I haven't fallen in... yet

2009-02-16T13:53:00.006-05:00

Hello, hello, -- I am upholstering this poor tattered chair -- the same one Talia is sitting on over there >>>> It desperately needs doing, don't you think?

It's the last big thing I have to do in the living room. (Hooray.)

The poor hideous chair has been hiding beneath a veil of canvas and who can blame it? This chair has had a long and checkered past -- and you wouldn't believe what was found within. Mail... rocks... spare change and curiously, the collar to a cat whose name we don't recognise belonging to a neighbor we never knew. (Having experienced one teenager in the house you learn to not press for answers to the hard questions.)

The hard part of upholstering, after selecting new fabric, is stripping off the old fabric. Sheesh -- this can take days.

While we're waiting for the end result I wanted to thank everyone for voting for my sweet Talia in the Bissell Sweeper SpokesPet Contest -- somehow she didn't win. Go figure. Still, she remains Queen Bee in my heart. And we'll just have to think up a different way to raise a few dollars for the no kill shelter my youngest niece rescues for. We so much Thank You, Thank You, Thank You.

Now, I am back to that upholstering thing. Ick. (It'll be lovely when it's done, It'll be lovely when it's done... this is my new mantra. It'll be lovely when it's done.) Ok, here's a peek at where this is going, but don't tell a living breathing soul, ok?

Back At It,
Jenny

What's not to like?

2009-02-09T00:11:00.004-05:00

Some rooms come together in a flash... while others unfold bit by bit. That is so in the case of my dining room. I never thought of myself as a "formal dining room" kind of girl. In fact, quite the opposite -- up till now I'd considered myself more of the "mix-n-match" sort -- a couple of battered chairs, goblets from one era sidled up to various plates from another...

But I kept inheriting things... things I love... my mother's goblets and silver, my boyfriend's mother's linens... and then I acquired these plates, Franciscanware, Desert Rose. I've written about them before. Oh, how I love these plates. And they needed a place to be.

I looked and looked for china hutches... shelves, cabinets. Keeping the buffet was crucial, whether a hutch sat on it or shelves hung above it offered some wiggle room... but still, the answer did not come easy. The search was like being stuck in the Faeiry Tale of the Three Bears -- what I found were shelves and cabinets that were too big, too small, too glitzy, too shabby... nothing was just right... till I started poking around in my workshop where I have a stash of spindles. What I thought was that a set of shelves suported on spindles would be just right And then the process continued -- some spindles where too long... too short... too delicate.

Briefly I considered making the spindles myself. I said "briefly".

Finally it struck me that the woodworking store, Rockler, might be just the ticket. And it was -- it wasn't an easy fix -- their were strill length issues and it took several trips and a special order, but finally the picture in my head is now hanging on my wall.

My brother tells me that this open cabinet is known as a Welsh Dresser. I've since looked it up; Welsh Dressers generally feature open cabinets or shelves that sit on the buffet, as if attached. Strictly speaking mine isn't really like any Welsh Dresser I've ever seen... but whatever it's called, it's this cabinet, these dishes, this formal room that feels like home. Who knew?

Vote for Talia!!!!

2009-02-04T21:19:00.006-05:00

Bissell Sweeper is looking for a new "Spokespet" and Talia wants to win! Vote over there>>>>

That is Talia, above and featured on the right>>>>, on the tattered blue chair. If ever there was a dog in need of a sweeper to pick up the white hair trail she leaves behind it is Talia. Oh, but she is such a dear thing it is really hard to mind a few million dog hairs here and there.
(Talia's not so fond of visitors -- particularly not cute besweatered ones like the spring-footed Miss Lucy.)

Talia is a rescue puppy acquired entirely by accident, as most rescue puppies are. I was at the vet's office with a foster dog when I happened to admire a deeply cute fuzzy puppy in the waiting room. I mentioned to his owner howe much I'd always wanted a long-haired pup just his size. The owner said she was supposed to have gotten only the one... but she couldn't leave the runt behind. From her coat she withdrew the very tiny sibling of the fuzzy dog I'd been admiring. "The conditions they were living in were criminal. No shelter, not even a blanket to lay on in all this snow."

She said there was another puppy left... in need of a home...

"I'll take it," I said, on the spot, sight unseen.

We made arrangements -- the puppies were owned and neglected by a co-worker of her husband. The transfer was made and I brought her home two days later.

Talia was then five months old, completely unsocialized, untrained, undisciplined. All she had going for her was cute, which goes a long way. The first night I brought her home she sat on my lap for four hours while the foster dog and my own dog took turns sniffing her. All over, back and forth, sniff, sniff, sniff. She has been my constant companion ever since.

Don't let the hard luck story fool you -- she's working it for all she's worth -- for all the steak and snuggles she can get her paws on.

What she most reminds me of now is a joyful three-year-old child. Talia spins and dips and twirls. She seemingly giggles. She snaps at the cat so's the cat will smack back -- it's a game they play. Talia really is a rags-to-richs girl and now she wants to be the Spokespet for a vacuum cleaner company -- makes sense to me.

Talia needs your vote -- the first listing on the right features a highlighted (purple) link to vote for Talia -- just click the link and vote for Talia.

I Won, I Won, I Won!!!

2009-02-01T18:19:00.006-05:00

Some weeks back The Slipcover Diva, Angie, held a drawing -- the prize being a lovely-exquisite-beautiful custom silk screen.

Be still my heart, I WON!!

And look, there are TWO!!!

For one thing I am thrilled -- they are so beautiful. For another thing, I haven't yet decided what to do with them... make pillows, frame them? Add fringe? Put them on the bed? The sofa?

It hasn't quite come to me yet... but soon -- I will get an image in my head of the right fabrics, the right trims, the right place. What to do, what to do?

For now I am content to simply gaze at them... and consider the possibilities.

One thing that keeps coming to mind is that I want to learn how to silk screen too.

Does it take you awhile to figure out how components should go into place? Or do you just know, right away, no hesitations?

(I'm thinking plaid... or paisley... I'm thinking I will think it out again.)

Thank you, Angie -- I am so honored and humbled to have a piece of your art for my very own.

An Entertainment of 6's

2009-01-29T15:29:00.012-05:00

I've been tagged, by Teresa otherwise Blissfully known as Aunt T. This one is fun and easy and quick.
1. Go to your Picture Folder on your computer or wherever you store pictures.
2. Go to the 6th Folder, then pick the 6th picture in that folder.
3. Post that picture on your blog and the story that goes along with the picture.
4. Tag 6 other people that you know or don’t know to do the same thing and leave a comment on their blog or an e-mail letting them know you chose them.

These were fun -- it was my first forray into absolute nonsense. (Despite my being a big fan of nonsense, mind you, I don't often allow myself to indulge for no reason... it's German or midwestern or just a character flaw on my part that I am trying to shake.)

I was learning to make ribbon flowers, figuring out which type of ribbon works best, though I had no idea what I'd do with them. At about the same time I acquired dozens of buttons and yards and yards and yards of vintage seam binding from the stash of my boyfriend's mom. Trust me, Hell will freeze over before I ever bind a seam. Being a "No-nonsense" type is not the same as being a "stickler". Besides this seam binding is too pretty to hide -- it needs to come out in the open and shine, shine, shine. So there we go - by combining the two, the lengths of cheery seam binding with all the lovely ribbon poppies I could end up with bracelets and chokers. This photo depicts the bracelets -- I like them quite a lot.

Now I am going to tag 6:

Angie
Tami
Francie
KT
Jean
Vallen

Snow Day

2009-01-27T20:56:00.006-05:00

There's something to be said for Snow Days. Four inches of fluffy white treachery threatening, promising to keep you indoors all the live-long day... to watch movies, read trashy novels, bake cookies, pull the covers up to your chin.

With Snow Days all bets are off. Cute shoes give way to clunky boots, the Teacher Conference guaranteed to go badly gets canceled, hopefully to be forgotten forever. The check that's supposed to be in the mail will get mailed tomorrow or the day after.

Meanwhile we'll muddle through, we'll make it somehow.
We'll improvise.

Snow Days, to my mind, are meant for reflection. To sit off to the sidelines and ponder the course we are on.. is this the right one? Should we change paths... or simply adjust this one. At the very least Snow Days are meant to sit, to think, to breath quietly, in and out.

I like to take inventory... or at least I like the time required to take inventory. I like to sit quietly and wonder if I am going the right way, doing the right thing. Is this the year I sell the house? Pull up stakes? Hitch a ride west? Submit paperwork for a master's degree in something? Join the circus? In the end it's always the same --I am a home body. I like to feather my nest, stay put, stay the course.

Oh, but Baby, it's cold outside; a Hot Toddy will do a body good.
Brrrrrrrrr

More of Jenny & Gordon's Magical Adventure

2008-11-04T18:10:00.008-05:00

Are you ready for more Paris photos? This is truly the most magical city ever; if you aren't already planning a trip, real or imagined, I can only wonder why not?

These first few photos are from our cruise down the Seine which passes all the highlights beginning with Gordon's favorite, the Notre Dame.

Our cruise was timed to span daylight to dark to take advantage of the most spectacular views. And all the more romantic.

No doubt I was told the name of this spectacular statue, but there are literally hundreds of spectacular statues all over the city -- on top of buildings, beside buildings, and like this one which flanks St. Alexander Bridge. I refer to it as "The Pretty Bridge, i.e."Gordon, did you get a picture of the Pretty Bridge? Are you sure? Are we too far away? We aren't too close are we? I really want a picture of the pretty bridge."

"Are you sure you got it? I don't think you got it -- try again."

"But that was with a flash... are you sure you got it?" I don't think he got it... but it's such an exquisite bridge, white draped with gold garland flanked with pillars, dotted with statuary. Even if he'd gotten it, a picture could never be quite the same.

The Paris convention Center, taken here on the ground on the way to the cruise is a dazzling building with an enormous glass roof. You can see part of the roof behind the horse statues a couple of pictures up. The roof is so predominant that it became my landmark of choice, as in, "No, Sweetie, we haven't crossed the bridge yet... follow there's the glass dome -- that's where we're headed."

The most famous landmark of all, the Eiffel Tower, was glowing a rich otherworldly, jaw-dropping blue after dark.

One place you could not see the glass dome (or the Eiffel Tower) was from the St. Ouen Puces (flea market). Located in the gritty underbelly of Paris, it felt like we'd taken the Metro to a world apart. The area surrounding the flea market was run down and dirty, yet you walk down the street to vendor stalls that feature pricely bronze and marble statues, crystal chandeliers, antique furniture. Exquisite things are settled next to junk, trash is piled beside treasures.

Most items were far far too expensive to contemplate... and frankly many of them were just too big. There was one ceramic rabbit soup tourrine that called to me... In the end I opted to not fret over a china bunny for the rest of the trip.

I did pick up a few pieces of lace -- nothing very remarkable about it other than the lady who owned the stall seemed kind... and desperate.

This inventive fellow seranaded the lunch crowd. He played Frank Sinatra tunes before passing his leather purse in lieu of a hat.

More inventive still is this guy who has made a strolling grill right there in his shopping cart. Nestled inside the cart is a charcoal stove. A wire wrack is suspended over the cart -- on that wire wrack are a dozen or so ears of corn cooking away. This is especially for the American tourists -- Europeans don't much fancy corn... it's mostly reserved as pig food.

This shot was irresistable -- after several days in Paris, after the flea market and just before we were to leave, it seemed wise to run a couple of loads of laundry. It looks like most American laudromats -- rather than putting coins in the machine of your choice, the coins are deposited in a single repository (there on the left) and you push the number of the machine you want to run.

And here we are in the courtyard of our hotel dining on bits of fruit and cheese, meats and wines, breads and crackers and a pastry or two gathered fron shops and markets for our dinner. This is how we ended most of our days in Paris. (Much as I don't look happy in this picture, fact is, I really really was -- the Chinese tourist who snapped this shot happened to get me at a bad moment. Oops.)

Jenny & Gordon's Magical Adventure

2008-10-28T20:23:00.007-04:00

Finally! My sincerest apologies for having been so late with this post -- my excuse is that I am just now crawling out from the weight of nearly 500 photos. I promise PROMISE to not darken your door with all of them -- but rather I will share a select few. Come to Paris with me...

This is our hotel room which I found on http://www.paris35.com/. It was cute and clean and just a stone's throw from the Eiffel Tower.

See, off in the distance, over my head and a bit to the left you can just make out the image of the Eiffel Tower. That's me, hanging out the window of our hotel room.
At night it is spectacular, don't you think?

I can't say what my favorite part of the trip was... but the museums are up there near the top. The D'Orsay Museum was spectacular in the broad range of art it featured in such a small space (compared to the Louvre, the D'Orsay is miniscule.) Among the many statues and paintings and examples of important mid-century furniture styles and the requisite paintings of the Assenscion of Christ, there were dozens and dozens of impressionist paintings. There was Renoir and Gaugin and Rhodin and Monet and Toulouse-Letrec and Van Gogh. I felt I'd been dropped into the best art text and left there to wallow around in it.

Of course one can't go to Paris and not spend an afternoon at the Louvre. Never will I have a command of my words well enough to describe the spectacle of the Louvre. I am dwarfed in it's presence. I can not comprehend it's scope or it's structure. We ventured through only one floor of one wing. If I had a month in Paris it would not be enough to thoroughly explore all the galleries within.
I found just the outside friezes pretty awestriking.

Although Gordon was approproately impressed with all the art surrounding us in the museums and off the bridges and plopped onto street corners, he is really a cathedral sort of tourist. In the shadow of Norte Dame he just seems to breathe better, his color heightens. He beams. He probably would have been happier with this picture had I not hacked off the tops of the church spires... but to be fair, it's a pretty darn big church.
If it's all the same to everyone, I'll just go shopping. I must be a bred in the bone junk shopper. We saw Printemps in Paris and Herrod's in London -- but I really only enjoyed looking at and contemplated buying the junk. These little vendors are called "bookenists" -- in decades past they have been set up to sell rare and antique books... apparently the market for rare book has dried up of late. Although a few hold-outs remain, most of the vendors now sell souvenirs and second-rate art to junk-minded tourists.

The art and architecture aside, Paris might be singularly known for it's peculiar grip on driving skills. I really can't describe it other than to guess that collective population of France dreams of entering the Grande Prix. Here in the mass tangle on the Champs Elysees, facing the Arc de Triomphe, I'll stick to the safety of the bus.
And so, after all the art and architecture, the shopping and traffic hopping, the only sensible thing to do is seek a nice eclair...
Or a real dinner at an outdoor cafe with a good glass of wine.

And so, thank you for coming along. If you care to join me again in a few days there will be more bits of Paris before we take the train to Germany. Till then, Au Revoir.

All My Bags are Packed

2008-09-22T08:27:00.004-04:00

Clearly I am not quite right -- clearly. As evidenced in what I do just before a longish trip. Most people trouble themselves to stop the mail, run a load of wash, leave a key with a neighbor -- typical pedestrian acts. What I do, however, is tile the backsplash.

In my defense it badly needed doing. I do wicked wanton things to my counter and backsplash area. (I'm not sure what you might be thinking, but lets come back to reality and clear up a few things -- what I am talking about is dying fabric, which splatters badly and makes a mess on the wall behind the sink.)

I just couldn't stand the notion of coming home to that splattered backsplash wall one more time, so something had to be done. And as I always say, there's no job worth doing that can't benefit from the use of power tools. Like this wet saw -- rented from Home Depot. Hooray!

It turned out nicely, I think. That whole area now feels like a real home, finished and ready for living. This is what I want to come home to.

Ahhhhh, and it goes so nicely with my pots.

All righty -- NOW I'm ready to go to the airport.

Au Revoir

Another Ordinary Nana Day

2008-09-20T16:47:00.003-04:00

Oh, am I the luckiest Nana, or what? Look who spent the day with me? My Baby Kai is the dearest, easiest, most enchanting grandchild... if I do say so myself. And I do.

He really is quite easy. This was a last-minute babysit, as his parents suddenly took notice of their anniversary and all. So I was going to quick like a bunny clean the leaves and little berries out of the sandbox (it has a slatted lid, yet little things sneak in) but Kai seemed happy as all get out with a bucket and pea gravel. And who can blame him. He sat there in the gravel and filled the whole bucket. It's a painstaking task when, with great concentration, one drops in the rocks only a dozen of so at a time.

Once the bucket was full there was artwork to attend to... I think he's in his blue phase, with an assymetrical overtone.

After so much concetrated effort the artful little rock-n-roller was famished. He seems to enjoys Nana's signature brand of grilled cheese on those tiny little party breads.

And what about that "high chair"? In this position it's more of a low chair. It comes in two pieces -- the other piece being a table. It configures into a regular high chair, a junior chair, a low height as seen here and by removing the tray it can be drawn up to it's table for some surface work, like coloring or doing long division. this was Adrian's high chair, refurbished by me.

We had a real good time -- I hope you enjoyed visiting with us too.

The Happy Nana

I Love Paris When It Sizzles...

2008-09-08T21:24:00.005-04:00

Never in my adult life have I taken a vacation for no reason other than "I wanna GO!" Till now. The Boyfriend and I are going to Paris!!!! See, I have my planner all tricked out. Hiding under that orderly cover is just another ugly composition book. Making the cover made my planner that much extra special. It would make a nice journal, though I am not the journaling sort. My composition book, all spiffed up, is being used for planning our trip to London, Paris and Germany.

We have our Eurail pass and our museum pass. We've reserved our hotels and we've sketched out an itinerary.

I'm so excited I could scream. My idea of a swell time is to be neither scheduled down to the last milisecond of the day, but to not fly entirely by the seat of my pants. Toward this end I have studied up on our destinations to the best of my patience anfd focus level, so we get to see and do what for us is the most important things to see and do... Then, worked into these plans, is a little wiggle room. I'm a big fan of wiggle room.

The grand plan is to fly into London, stay one night, have quick peek about, take the chunnel from London to Paris. We'll be in Paris for five days. For me the big drawing card are the flea markets. Every European city has art and fabulous food... but they don't all have flea markets. I can't wait.

After Paris we are taking the train to Germany. The Boyfriend has been to Germany a number of times and I lived there for three years when I was in the Air Force. We're taking a Rhine River cruise, we're staying in castles. There will be wine and festivals and... and shopping for baby clothes. Oh, and eating. There will be loads and loads of eating.

Our Departure Date is 23 September -- two weeks!!!! Every couple of days till I leave I'll bring about various aspects of our plans. For now, au revoir!

A New Attitude

2008-09-03T08:01:00.003-04:00

More than you can know, I HATED this counter... which is funny because upon first viewing this house it is the counter that called to me. I spied it through a window before ever setting foot into the house when and the first thought that popped into my head was, "It's blue -- they knew I was coming.

And like a bad boyfriend, ever after it was hard to work with. It never looked clean and certainly never looked stylish. Never once did I walk past or set something upon it and heave that satisfied sigh. Instead I grumbled, rolled my eyes and grimmaced. Till finaly... finally... I'd had enough. "Begone ugly counter--I'm done."

The sink was the worst: shallow, clumsy, not even a little bit sexy.

And so I ripped that man -- I mean counter right outta my house.

It was a mess for a while -- the heart of my home spilled out, tossed around...

But really soon there was a new counter. (The counter installer is Steve who is brilliant for not only showing up on time with the correct product, but he laughs at my jokes.I've promised to fix up Steve with my best single girlfriends. He didn't laugh at that... wonder why?)

But now the old cat dish looks a little dowdy, though doesn't my new counter look dazzling. It isn't granite -- in this 100-year-old house, in this down-at-the-heels neighborhood granite would be like tying a silk ribbon on a junkyard dog. Which isn't to say the old dog couldn't delight in some sprucing up a bit. I just love this new counter -- it makes me heave that certain sigh.

I'm thinking this shimmery cat dish is just the jewelry required.

And check out the sink! Even Bailey approves. Let me tell you, this is the sink to end all sinks. From this angle you can't tell, but it's huge HUGE. I could bathe my grandson AND the Little White Dog in here simultaneously. It's wide and it's deep and it is NOT stainless steel. Hoo-HAW.

However, as with many projects I have learned, there is a glitch to the finishing. The backsplash can't go up just yet(it's waiting in the wings) because of a freak of plumbing. There's a plumber coming soon. Then there will be walls to paint and all those curtains to rethink.

There may be no rest for the wicked -- but she gets a pretty slick counter and sink for her digs all the same!

Ruthless

2008-08-15T07:56:00.005-04:00

Where, oh where, has Jenny been? Trust me -- you would not have wanted to come along. I've been cleaning out closets, dismantling messes and rooting through the art room. Eek! And OH MY!

I am more of an autumn cleaner than a spring cleaner and of late there has been that "bite" in the air... the kids go back to school earlier and earlier and autumn is sure to follow. So I have begun. And it occurs to me that this house isn't big enough for me and all my nonsense. Oh My Heaven -- when you are a premiere bargain shopper it can sometimes be hard to pass up a really good deal... but if in the end it all gets bagged up and hauled off to thrift... where was the bargain?
And why, oh why, is it way more fun to buy stuff than it is to bag it up and haul it out. I don't get that same little thrill when I am randomly grabbing stuff up and shoving it in a black plastic trash bag as when the clerk at the store placed it in a shopping bag.

So now, when I am out shopping and a great, fabulous, spectacular bargain leaps upon me, I am prepared with a brand new shopping mantra: "Oh, Look, someone is going to be thrilled to find this deal... I will leave it for someone who will love it."

To be fair I have held onto quite a few things for a very long time. See those sweet Teddy bears -- I've had them for some 15 years. When you're as old as me stuff has had time to accumulate. Now it is time for stuff to disappear.

Bye-bye Teddy Bears. Bye-bye stuff.

Baileykins and the Fishies

2008-07-24T06:53:00.004-04:00

From the beginning Bailey has loved the fishies -- like they are best friends or something. She liked to watch them in the tank.

She likes to chat with them pond-side.

And oh my, what's this?

Fishy babies?

"Hello Fishies!!!" Bailey would especially like her some Fishy Babies!

Tah-DA!

2008-07-16T22:45:00.005-04:00

Remember this wretched wreck of a deck. It was piles of rotted lumber, falling down fencing and whatever that mess was in the corner, who knew!?!

But looky here! In place of the wretched wreck is the New Children's Garden. A fishy pond, a sandbox, lots of plantings, cozy seats. Oh My.

Let's take a tour: First stop is the herb garden -- this is a far cry from last years weed thatch. Intermingled among the rosemary and bail, the lavender and thyme are cheery salmon geranium and several tall hollyhocks.

Side by side are the oeach tree espalier and a very new pear tree. The peach tree is standing at attention with one lone peach not yet ripe for picking.

The sandbox is the living end. It is a slat covered trapzoid filled with fine grained sand, perfect for wee GRANDbabykins to play for hours and hours. And he does!

The seats nearby are for me to watch from afar -- a bit too far. I like to get on my knees and join in the fun.

Ah, the Children's Garden -- it's good to be done.

Goosey Goosey Gander

2008-07-07T07:21:00.005-04:00

The Goosies are Blooming, The Goosies are Blooming!!!!!

Don't they look like little goosey heads? This is Gooseneck Loosestrife and it is my favorite thing in my garden. Many flowers make me smile -- but this one makes me laugh out loud.

They are fun and fancy and happy. A whole gaggle of geese marching with purpose across the lawn. Admittedly this corner of my garden is sadly neglected, due in no small part to the goosies.

Beside them is a rose bush that needs to be yanked down, which is no small thing, so that we can get to the fence which needs to be yanked down, which is no small thing... but to get to the rose and to the fence we would have to tromp through the goosies... And I can't bare to trample them. Maybe over winter when they've sunk back to the earth. But right now the rose and the fence can wait a while... while the goosies are blooming. Next year I will move a few to the Children's Garden

A Little Deconstruction

2008-05-18T08:20:00.005-04:00

Looky here, isn't this what every girl wants? Her very own dumpster!!!! Ah, be still my heart.

I am so excited about the dumpster because it gives me a place to put my porch. Yes, my porch.

It's a very sad story about my porch... see, it has been crumbling for years... and years, since before I even bought the house and made it my own. Though it looks like a nice enough porch, it was mostly held together with paint and fading dreams.

But eventually reality sets in and the thing has to be dealt with...
That's Poor Gordon whose only mistake was dating a girl whose house is a little on the wobbly side. He did the lion's share of the demolition. My son, Adrian came to help too. My job was primarily debris removal -- I got to toss it all into that big not-so-shiny dumpster. Woo-Hoo!!I always get the good jobs.

See that post... the rain found a leak in the roof, dripped in and rotted the post from the inside out. I can't even begin to describe the damage the birds did. They found a little hole, made it bigger, moved in, brought their friends... It was like a starling frat party up there. When the old nest got too decrepit they shoved it back and built anew. Rotten birds.

And here is my porch -- No More...

The plan is to build a new one... though, time is ever the issue. Next weekend my favorite builder boyfriend is otherwise engaged... the follwing weekend my youngest niece is getting married. It could be till the end of summer... but it better not be! I'm going to go find more debris to toss in that dumpster.

The Happiest Mother's Day

2008-05-12T22:12:00.006-04:00

Where, oh where, do I begin.... let's say the beginning. My dear thoughtful boyfriend wanted a day just for us doing something beyond the norm, something romantic -- the norm being chores and projects, wild and crazy folks that we are. But this weekend, Mother's Day, to have time to ourselves meant Saturday. So he found a gristmill restaurant and off we went on our private personal adventure. It was so much fun -- this little town north of Beyond-All-That is just a crossroads in the woods where a deep gorge carved out a great place for a waterwheel. Oh, it was so pretty. Breathtaking really. The food was good, our table was right on the edge of the gorge and the service was charming.

No little town that features a gristmill restaurant is worth it's salt without a couple of antique stores. But it is such a little town. Once we'd dined in the mill and cruised through a few antique shops... that was it. But five miles away was another little town, well known as a hippy enclave with all the requisite head shops and pottery shops, stained glass designers and college bars -- think 1968, the summer of love, sandals, peace signs, peasant tops, incense... Groovy. I had more fun than a dune buggy load of Monkees. I picked up Peruvian knitted finger puppets for my wee Grandson and a beautiful blue hand thrown tea pot for my darling daughter-in-law and a surprise birthday gift for my manly-man boy child. Less than never do I simply fiddle and shop --it's a wonder I know what's available at all. We stayed and shopped so long that we had dinner at one of the college bars, outside, after the shops began closing up. It was a great day.

And then Sunday -- the REAL Mother's Day, I worked my fanny off... with this:

I got a brand new stove Saturday morning - I feared it would not be delivered in time for my Gristmill in the Woods adventure.... ahhh, but it was. I would show a picture of the old one, but I was too focused on shoving it out the door to snap a picture. Let's just say... it was OLD. Not necessarily ugly old (though it did lack a certain vintage charm from the get-go). It wasn't even broken... but this stove has a griddle. It's got a convection oven, too and a warming drawer... it's slick and shiny and... oh, I am in love.

So I worked real hard on a Mother's Day Brunch... for these people. That's my son, my Grandson, my daughter-in-law and my Sweetie.

This was the first "event" in my newly redone dining room!!!! Frankly, the china cabinet isn't yet built... but the pieces are cut out and ready... These poeple weren't going to sweat a little thing like "no china cabinet." We were too bust being dazzled by this cake my darling daughter-in-law created. It was as delicious and scruptious and wonderful as t looks. Oh, she puts up with my son and bakes to boot! She is amazing!

It was a real nice weekend. I hope each of you enjoyed a wonderful relaxing, content, satisfying Mother's Day too. To you and your family -- grab as much delight as you can. And eat cake.

The Stand

2008-05-05T07:22:00.010-04:00

So, Talia, The Wee Queen of Oh-So-Much, is pretty sure she can not compete with this little man (and hiding back there behind chair legs is Natalie poised to beat a hasty retreat) So goes my days of late -- Stay and fight it out or cut my losses and run? THAT is the question.

Ahhhhh. I so apologize for my lengthy absences. I am tied up and covered over with project after project on top of project to where just mowing the lawn seems a monumental undertaking.

In fact, under all those limbs, mowing my lawn IS monumental.

As you can see, my cottage is very old... i.e. decrepit in the most adorable way, but decrepit all the same. That porch needs replacing, the driveway is a crumble. We won't even peek at the back porch. Those tree limbs had to come out... I was so grateful for the few days they lay on the hillside -- so long as the hillside was buried I was relieved of the chore of mowing. Hooray. Yet, I am still engaged in indoor projects. The china cabinet got cut out yesterday, the dining room drapes await hemming, new shelves for a kitchen wall are now painted and might (might) get installed this evening... or not.

I haven't yet decided if the issue is money or time or bodies to actually do the deeds. I do know that when I pass by neat and tidy and completed little condo parks I am sorely intrigued.

And for a bit my computer and my camera were so annoyed with one another that they ceased to chat. After many long deliberations I have brokered an uneasy peace. For now, at least, the works are, well, working again.

As it is, I will continue plugging along as best I can, ever mindfull that all work comes to an abrupt halt upon the arrival of this little face:

Kai William -- 10 1/2 mos.

As Good As It Gets

2008-03-27T07:04:00.002-04:00

So the snow has melted and given way to these:

I love crocuses -- in their Sunday Best they trumpet the arrival of spring like a happy surprise. Just seeing the little shoots pushing up through the cold earth shakes off the weariness of winter and fills our collective heads with a new beginning, a fresh start. That's as good as it gets.

I've been so wickedly busy these past many weeks that frankly I could use a fresh start. I was in Pennsylvania all last week helping my boyfriend and his brother spruce up their parents house for sale. It's been sitting empty for some three years now -- suffice it to say that "sprucing up" doesn't really begin to cover it. If ever anything was in need of a fresh start that house tops the list. And now what I could use is a nice nap... in the sunshine... in a hammock. But I am getting ahead of myself.

My living room and dining room projects are nearly complete -- a few drapes to hem and a china cabinet to build. I tend to loose steam when I'm so close to being finished... Does that happen to you? The week before going to Pennsylvania I was in a big push to get the dining room drapes finished and up and got as far as the hem. Now that I'm back I don't yet have the itch in me to wrap it up. But by Saturday, ready or not, I'll get them done. Maybe I need to gaze at those crocuses a little longer, to breath in more of that "fresh start" air out there.

What does spring evoke for you?

Snowed In!!!!

2008-03-09T08:52:00.008-04:00

The snow came and came and came some more. It fell on fences and trees and roofs. It covered sidewalks, driveways and roads... And when I thought there was not another flake left to fall, there fell more.

The snow started shortly after 8 a.m. Friday. I stood at the kitchen window and watched it begin... by 10 the yard was covered, by noon the roads were treacherous. It fell and it fell and it fell.

There is a street between my house and that gray one. But you'd never know it.

Hmmmmmm, guess there's nothing for a snowbound girl to do except... play.

Stay busy and keep outta trouble.

Every now and then this is just what we need -- a Snow Day.

Are you Snow Bound? What did you do?

It's About Time

2008-03-02T19:22:00.003-05:00

Lest you suspect I've fallen off the planet, fact is I've been sewing and painting and building, never mind that work thing too. But my house is coming along -- two steps forward, three back, right on schedule. The living room is feeling more and more warm and inviting. Remeber this piece of art my boyfriend had framed for me for Christmas. Ahhhhh. It takes my breath away. And it's finally been hung...

But what to do with that empty space... leave it alone... add more art... shelves... Hmmm? Finally it occured to me that what it wants is a clock...

But this one, hanging in my garage, is too big, too tattered...

And this one, thanks to T.J. Maxx, is too new...

I went to a middle of the road antique store hoping to find just the right clock, just the right age... at just the right price. (A girl can dream.) The Antique Owner was on the funny side, "I haven't sold one of thjose in quite a while -- do you know what they run?" Odd question, I thought. And, "No, I haven't a clue... I'm thinking $60 to $80." The Antiques Owner's eyes grew wide: shock, horror, offense registered on his face. "You won't find it!" he said. "You just won't find it -- not for under $180." (A minute before he hadn't sold one in a long long while and had no idea what a nice old clock might cost -- but now he was sure my price couldn't be had. And that I should be smacked for even thinking it.)

But this one... I rather like this one. And I sure didn't pay $180 for it. I didn't pay even $80 for it.

How it came about was after dinner. At our favorite neighborhood Italian place I'd been telling my boyfriend the tale of the obnoxious Antiques Owner. "You won't find it," I repeated. My boyfriend laughed. We finished dinner. We jumped in the truck and upon leaving the parking lot the truck headlights swept a trash pile of the apartment across the street from the Italian place. I caught the headlight reflection on the clock face first. "STOP!" I think I very nearly gave my boyfriend a stroke. I lept from the truck, darted across the street, snatched up the clock and Looky there -- it looks nice on my wall next to my print, don't you think? A few more pieces of ... something are needed there... maybe a lantern... maybe a piccolo (why not?)

And now, back to sewing and painting and building... There's more to come... lest I fall off the planet.

A Little Birdy Told Me

2008-02-03T23:12:00.000-05:00

Finally, updating my living room and dining room has come to the art collecting segment... maybe I rushed ahead a bit -- there is still a chair to upholster and a cabinet to refinish, lamps to select. But art is the fun part and, trust me, I could use a little fun.

Sadly, my favorite, most reliable antique mall recently closed. It was one of those monster malls with row upon row, booth after booth, fine antiques mingling with middle-of-the-road junk. I loved it and then, like an errant boyfriend, just when you thought it would be there always, it wasn't. It was gone. Ahhhh me.

Forlorn and woebegone, what was I to do? Wander into every antique and thrift shop in the city, to beat the bushes for a few integral pieces of art? Mighty inefficient and haphazard if you ask me. But then, quite by chance, I overheard two men chatting... about a new antique mall. The minute I became aware of what they were talking about I began eavesdropping in earnest. What new antique mall? Where? How would I find it? Shhhhhhhh...

It's on Route 4, they said. (Oh, Bully, Route 4 is one of those busy thoroughfares with every fast food restaurant, department store and chain shop known nationwide crammed within a five mile lenghth.) Those were the only directions I had. No specifics, not even a name for the place... How would I find it?

About two miles off the highway, up Route 4, as I was beginning to wonder... there was the sign, big as life: Antique Mall. Hooray!!!!.

The wonderful thing about an antique mall, if you ask me, is the whole conglomeration of antiques in one place. If I am looking for bowls or tables or candle sticks, it is a sure bet, at an antique mall I will find not one but fifty. I can choose this or that, discard a piece that doesn't quite go....

And so it was with the art. I started looking for pieces that just "grabbed me"... and what I began to notice were bird prints... Pretty, pretty bird prints. I didn't mean to zero in on these pretty birds... they just caught my eye and wouldn't let me loose. I got several bird prints that I think will make a nice grouping. (Another grouping I got was of children, but we'll look at them another day -- today I wanted to show you these lovely birds. Aren't they nice?)

And as it happens only recently I got a mini-yard-long from Francie's Scented Cottage that features a length of birds perched on a wire. They are too too cute. Don't you think? (Even with a fuzzy picture those little birds are unbearably sweet.)

Finding the new antique mall was a mightily entertaining treasure hunt. Finding all these dear birdy prints were the bonus nuggets of gold.

So I am wondering, are the antique malls in your area fairing well... or are they dying on the vine? And when you go antiquing what do you most like to find?

Talia Likes to Help

2008-01-22T21:42:00.000-05:00

Of course I can't sew and paint and upholster by myself. Lucky for me, Talia likes to help. See, she's holding down the drapery fabric, lest it float away:

I could not have sewn these drapes without her:

It was Talia's idea to paint that cabinet black -- I think it's striking, don't you? Remember it used to be green -- nice enough, but it would have clashed with these walls and the new drapes.

Thank goodness for Talia, who simply wears herself out helping me. After her nap she'll be designing and working with me real soon.

Where Have I Been?

2008-01-09T09:34:00.000-05:00

Hello, hello, Bloggy Friends -- thank you all so much for checking in and checking on me. I've been very very busy -- my business is growing by frightful leaps and bounds AND I am trying very hard to pull together my first floor. So when I am not working I am sewing and staining, sawing and stapling. Yikes. I didn't mean to be away this long, but actuially I've had little to say other than, "I'm still working on the Great Big Cabinet," or, "I squeezed in an extra client today and I'm pooped," or even, more commonly, "I am still looking for a china cabinet/hutch/buffet, round four." None of that would have made very interesting reading. And less than no pictures -- but as soon as I figure how to photograph paint drying...

I have made a bit of progress, though. On our way home from Cumberland we stopped at an odd little flea market and tucked in the back corner, behind booths of new merchandise, socks and gems, pet food and tools, was one lady selling antiques. She was closing out one of her booth spaces at some mighty attractive prices. So I got this for a song:

This is near the front door and as soon as I decide if it should get a mirror or that beautiful piece of art above it -- framing that print was a Christmas present from My Sweetheart.

This is the spot where that hideous radiator once stood!!! Remember?

This doesn't work like those TV shows where the whole house is revamped by a crew of worker bees in 25 minutes or less. All this work and all these decisions and all this money is coming from me -- in drips and drabs.

This is where I have been, partly and very soon I will have some Oh~So~Nice finished photos. But for now back to work with me -- today I am sewing drapes. Hooray!!!!

Christmas Cabin in the Woods

2007-12-26T08:34:00.000-05:00

Merry Merry Christmas!!! I am hoping each of you enjoyed a warm and lovely and peaceful Christmas.

Our joyous holiday was spent at a cottage in Cumberland Falls State Park for what we have referred to as "The Christmas Cabin in the Woods". Oh, it was lovely ~~ kind of idyllic, like camping, except with heat and electric, running water and a kitchen. And a fireplace.

We had such a nice time -- my son, daughter-in-law, grandson, boyfriend and me. The weather could not have been nicer. It was a little cloudy, but warm enough. We enjoyed a lovely outdoor lunch on the deck of our cabin...

This was such a nice relaxing way to spend Christmas together ~ we went hiking -- or rather, the way we do it it might more accurately be called "tramping" through the woods.

My daughter-in-law, practically perfect in every way, is a pastry chef and a dazzling cook. I'm a fair cook myself. We much appreciated having the kitchen. Of course we brought way more food than we could ever consume... just in case. (Adrian has been trained from the cradle to help and he's very artful at it.)

And because we are the sort of people we are, there was crafting. The plan was to craft ornaments for the tree, but the only good craft project was designed and brought by my boyfriend, Gordon. And it was so simple -- play-doh rolled out and cut with cookie cutters. We blended colors, embedded gems and stamped the clay with pine branches for texture.

With all that cooking and eating and hiking and crafting, we just about wore ourselves out. Baby Kai looked after things while we napped. (He looks like he is telling a bedtime story... and maybe he is.)

But I think it is just a clever ploy to get the grown-ups to fall asleep so he can peek into all those presents.
Merry Christmas Everyone.

Will Work for China

2007-12-12T08:38:00.000-05:00

Does everyone know I have a china fetish? Not of the very large, faraway Peoples Republic of, with billions of bicycling citizens and pandas that romp in the wild. Not that China. But rather china. Dishes, porcelain, ceramic, pottery, crockery, if you will. Have I mentioned it here before? If I haven't, well, there it is -- I'm now outta the closet. "My name is Jenny and I am a china addict."

I didn't even know I had china leanings till I was on my fourth... or fifth set. This is because they are not full sets. I've been a dabbler, a social addict. A few plates here, a service for four there, add on a serving piece or two. If you are a china addict then you know how it is -- you see a few pieces, half a set... Or an event crops up that warrants all new plates. It happens.

And as it happens, I like to mix and blend pieces -- all of mine have a pink, green, blue, yellow "theme". In fact I have Fiestaware in each of those colors. I have a set from Pier One Imports that are white with with pink, green, yellow and blue stripes around the rim. A set of Pfalzgraf I once stalked and snatched up on sale have pink and green and yellow and blue featured in fruit and flowers. Chintzware, bless it, goes with everything. So when I put all these pieces on my table, a few plates here, a few serving pieces there, they absolutely are fitting with one another.

But every china addict has their "Holy Grail" -- a certain pattern... Staffordshire's Welcome Home or Pfalzgraf's Grandma's Kitchen... the pattern that one desires above all others. For me that pattern is Franciscanware. The old stuff. the real stuff.

And yesterday... a client bartered my service of cleaning and organizing for the thing I want more than... a new car, diamond earrings, a bigger table saw or grass mowing for a year.

The thing I want, the pattern I most covet, is Franciscanware ~ Desert Rose:

Need I say more?

Dying to Play

2007-12-04T08:56:00.000-05:00

If you've been reading along a bit then you know I am finally rehabbing-updating-decorating the living room/dining room portion of my abode. Rather than continuing with the disheveled hovel look, I am reaching for something more ... cleaned up.

So now that I have ripped out the radiator (not me personally, but I cheered heartily), replaced the carpet (again more cheering), painted (me) and upholstered (me too), I am moving on to the drapery aspect of the new decor...

This was a hard step for me ... because I am funny about fabrics. By "funny" what I mean is I LOVE them. ALL. My heart races, my breath comes in short bursts. I could grab any fabric, sew it up, stretch it on the window... and even if it is the "wrong" fabric for the room, what I would see is a beautiful fabric for which the room is wrong -- don't change the drapes, change the room. WAIT.

This time I decided to go slow, hold my breath, put blinders on if need be, but choose drapery fabric very carefully, very cautiously. Whew -- it was hard... it's a mine field out there. There are florals and checks and stripes and toiles and sheers and wools and, oh my, a girl could get dizzy.

But here is how it worked out:

Yards and yards and yards of tone on tone white floral jaquard. Now, white will work... but it won't be what I want. With three windows, 6 feet tall, in a small room, the draperies will loom large. And what I want is for the draperies to be a feature... but not too much, I sure don't want the drapes to be the biggest freakin' thing in the room. I want them to blend in with the walls... I want to dye.

I LOVE to play with dye. Can you tell? Have you ever dyed anything? Do you mix and blend dye colors? A little wine with a little tangerine and brown and you get burgandy. A bit of orange and a smidge of fuschia and you get peachy-shrimpy-melon. Hip-hip-hooray for dye. I even dyed the fabric for the dress I wore to my son's wedding. Any excuse to play with dye. Any excuse at all.

And here it is -- from yards and yards of white to yards and yards of medium green:

Doesn't it look like the paint is leaking off the walls and flowing onto the sofa. That is it -- my singular skill -- I can match any color, be it in paint, dye or clay. And now, the only task left here is to get the fabric up from lounging all over the sofa and make it stand straight and tall at the windows.... I'll get back to you on that.

Keeping Busy

2007-11-27T08:06:00.000-05:00

Because I haven't enough to do, what with chasing fishes and cabinetmaking class and working a bazillion and a half hours a week, I needed a little something to fill the empty hours of my quiet little life. Sooooo, after having the hideous behemoth radiator ripped out (wasn't THAT fun?)and painting walls, and then having carpet laid, I selected new colors for upholstery...

And then I ripped into the sofa like nobody's business! Can I just mention here how very much I HATED that old upholstery? I love the shape and size and scope of this sofa... but the medium blue that went with nothing and always looked dirty. Blech.

I'm liking this black and white check. The idea for black and white check came from a ribbon poppy pin I made once. The ribbon poppy, pretty enough, needed something... a background...

See, the black and white just goes...

And it goes with everything... and green, the color of leaves, goes with everything too ... hmmmm, a Decor Is Born, almost.

And there it is, awaiting drapes and pillows and pictures, behold, the sofa, because I just didn't quite have enough to do (but truly because I could not stand that dirty medium blue that didn't go with anything another minute.) Up next... something purple. Who doesn't like purple?

Got 'im

2007-11-24T09:09:00.000-05:00

It was a fight to the finish -- could'a been anybody's game, but I was brave and determined, with single-minded focus, and only one wet shoe -- I am the winner. And so's the fishy!

Isn't he pretty? You can see that this gold fish isn't so much gold... he's rather bronze. Against the black liner of the pond he disapears entirely and is known as The Great Invisible Fishy. (We're given to hyperbole here.)

Whatever his color, I am much relieved to have them all together. For a while there I was worried.

And look, Bailey like's him too.

She likes them all.

The Fugitives... or How I Spent a Long Cold Weekend

2007-11-19T10:09:00.000-05:00

This is the continuing saga of the pond, which I love.... however. When I dug the pond in June I did not think ahead, as is my wont, to autumn, when it turns cold and the leaves will fall and fall and fall. (How's that for a run-on sentence?) A dear neighbor gave me fishies for my pond -- how sweet, but a frightful mishap of construction killed them. So I got more. I got three little fresh fishies to replace the three little dead fishies. They were feeder fish. If I had not bought them they'd have been somebody's dinner.

Over the summer they had the loveliest time, flitting and frolicking in my dear little pond. But then summer ended and it did turn cold, and I worried about my three sweet fishies. They would shiver. They would freeze. The dirty dish fountain had to come in for the season as it is too delicate for the weight of frozen water -- so there would be no airation (did I spell that right?).

Oh... my fishies... But I checked with fish people at fish stores and I checked with fish people at pet stores and I checked with fish people at pond stores. Everybody told me the same thing, "The fishies will be fine. They will swim to the bottom where it is warmer. They will winter over beautifully." Finally I believed them... exept no one said beans about leaves in the pond. I am in the middle of Freakin' Sherwood Forest here. Much as I tried to keep ahead of the leaves.... the leaves got ahead of me. They floated onto the pond while I was at work and then when I wasn't looking the leaves sunk to the bottom of the pond where I could not see them... and every school child knows that rotting leaves emit carbon dioxide. Not good for fishies. Not good at all.

When the fishies paddled to the surface, gasping for air I was horrified. Fishies gasping for air at the surface can not swim to the bottom where it is warmer, where4 they will winter over beautifully.... if I did not do something soon I would be an accessory to fishicide (is that ichthyicide? just guessing).

So I spent $50 on an aquarium and $13 on gravel and $7 on food... to save $4 in fish... but of saving the fish is not about $$$$... it's about my heart breaking if I do not save the fish. (But still $70 to save $4 in fish seems unbalanced to me.)

And this is how I spent the weekend... fishing, as it were. And they didn't want to be caught, I tell ya. They weren't coming out alive... It's a fairly big pond. I was risking life and limb, or at least wet sneakers and soggy pants... so I emptied most of the water, all the easier to catch elusive fish.

It isn't pretty saving lives... down right ugly... but then... Oh, they ARE lovely. I have managed to catch two of them.

I also managed to get one sneaker very wet and very cold, but I caught these two. It's hard to tell from the photos, but they are very big -- 4" long and at least 2" top to bottom. I am breathing easier having caught these two... and yet one fishy remains in that shallow brackish water. I am going back in. Cross everything for him -- he doesn't know how nice it is getting caught and all.

Just a Little Housekeeping

2007-11-12T13:05:00.001-05:00

I have these cabinets, see. It seemed like a good idea at the time -- "Install cabinets in the dining room, to store fabric, because who uses a dining room? If there's fabric in there then it's a sewing room."

Molly thought it was a swell idea.

All those cabinets were packed full of fabric. (We won't discuss the closet across the way.) And it was a fine idea as far as it went, but frankly I took it too far. My dining room was always a mess... and so the only solution was to clean it up.

I emptied the cabinets

And took them out...

And I emptied and removed the shelves...
And painted the wall. The carpet people will be here Wednesday. At this point it may not look like much.... but I'm pooped.

I don't dare turn the camera in the other direction -- all that mess had to go somewhere. It is now a toss up between Trash Day or a Goodwill run. (But if you've wondered at all where I have been, what I have been doing... wonder no more -- I've been buried under piles of my own debris.)

UPDATE: The cabinets will not be returning -- I sold them on CraigsList -- God LOVE CraigsList. My sewing/art room has moved upstairs. My plan is to make this space into a proper dining room -- an odd idea, but I am going to try it.

Blankets and Sweaters and PotPie, Oh My

2007-11-05T07:24:00.000-05:00

Finally, autumn is upon us -- frost is on the pumpkin and it's about time. Toward the end of August... and this year it was all through September and then all through October, I was so looking forward to selecting sweaters...

"Hmmm, the peach, no the green, the yellow... oh, purple, where's purple?"

snuggling into blankets...

(I have kind of a blanket thing... can you tell? I see them at auctions and flea markets and think.... "I will cut that up into pillows," or "I will upholster a chair," but then I never do, so here they are for the snuggling. )

...and dishing up PotPie. (The recipe for this, in as much as I can follow a recipe, I got from MaryAnne .) Gotta say, it was delish.

Ahhhhhh, Autumn... it almost makes wilting through the doggiest days of summer worth it... almost.

What's your favorite part of Autumn?

C'mon a My House

2007-10-30T22:14:00.000-04:00

Looky what we have!!!! Up here. C'mon and see. But cha gotta be quiet.

Are ya comin'?

Shhhhhhhhhh.

It's Jenny's grandson -- Sweet Baby Kai. He's the dearest thing.

Did that Little White Dog mention that if you tattle, we'll deny everything? And if he awakens, it's on you. Kapeesh?

Sometimes it's the Big Things

2007-10-26T18:50:00.000-04:00

Let me explain... See that great big thing there...

Yes, that, it's a great big radiator cover trying, unsuccessfully to hide a great big radiator. I don't know who installed it in front of the window like that... but I would lay even odds his wife wasn't home at the time. I can readily hear the conversation when she first laid eyes on this monster in the window... "Excuse me ... what were you thinking? Were you thinking that a radiator is a fine accompaniment to drapieries? Or were you simply thinking I would not notice? And I suppose you are now going to tell me it cannot be moved or removed? Is that what you are going to tell me?"

I want to go find her -- I want to look her up at the local cemetery and whisper into her grave, "Looky, here, Sweetie, That big ol' boat of a thing is GONE. " (Cause you know she went from this life to the next ticked as all get out over that hideous big monster radiator.)

She'd heave a sigh so deep the earth would rumble.

That radiator has been under my skin since the day I bought this house... but it's gone, gone, gone now.

Next, paint, new drapes (real drapes -- ones that can actually hang right) new carpet, new upholstery... I might even spring for a new lamp.... Those oil lamps might have to find someplace else to live.

What I did, in terms of heat, was have baseboard radiators installed. It's no taller than the baseboard and unless you are looking for it you don;t even know it's there.

Oh, I am now the happiest woman alive -- sometimes it isn't just the little things -- sometimes it is the Big Things too.

I'm going to go pirouette in glee now. Twirling, leaping... yep, I am the happiest woman alive.

What with the rain and all...

2007-10-22T22:44:00.001-04:00

See what happens when the skies open up and the rains come crashing down, endlessly.
First you start fooling with ribbons... then buttons... a little filigree here, a bead there.

The background ribbons for these bracelets started out life as vinatge seam binding. Well, it didn't start as vinatge. Once upon a time it was new and pedestrian as chicken soup. But now it is old and wonderful. Who binds seams anymore? As it turns out it makes very nice bracelets. I inherited this from my boyfriend's late mother. Actually it was bestowed upon me, by reason of my being the only "girl in the family". Silly boys assumed I would use it to sew.

No... I'm just using it to fool around. Then, as often happens, one thing leads to another... first it's seam binding bracelets, then it is button and bell brooches. Aren't they cute? I likes to jingle.

Clearly, I am way too easily amused.

Oh, and before I forget -- I was tagged. Betty at She'sSewPretty hit me up for 7 random things about me... (I thought everything about me was fairly random...

1. As an infant I used to regularly escape from my playpen. It was one of those wooden jobs -- I would pull back the pad, stick my find in the hole, lift up and crawl under. I'm sure I had no place particular to go -- I did it simply because I could.

2. I am not remotely competitive. I don't care who wins or loses, so long as we have a good time playing the game. Once I came in first place in a diving contest over a girl who was previously known to always win. She was devastated and I did not feel much better -- for me winning is not what it is all about.

3. I hate 3/4 length sleeves -- when I wear one, and I don't, all I can think about is how these sleeves are cheesy and too short or not short enough and they need more material.... or material needs to be cut off and if the meeting has gathered do start without me because I'll be over here in the corner fussing over my sleeves, ya see.

4. I built my first bench when I was four.

5. One of these days I want to just up and buy an airline ticket, fly to New York City for the day, see WICKED and fly back home. Ok, once I'm there I'll want to stay several days, a month even, but I can't get more than a day off to save my life, so one day and WICKED will do me.

6. Speaking of New York, when I was in 8 grade I had a brave junior high history teacher who took 70 7th and 8th graders on a long Easter weekend trip to Washington D.C. Baltimore, Philly and New York City. I still remember parts of this trip vividly.

7. I'm so dyslexic that it is not funny... actually it is, frequently.

As for who to tag who has not already been tagged... I don;t know anybody who has not already been tagged... twice... so I am going to start a new one... The New Jenny Tag is to name your favorite dish to prepare and write out it's recipe (give us a little history about why you like it or where you got it) And I am tagging: Francie of Cottage Scents, Vallen of Queenly Things and Sharon of C'est Chouette.

Tis the season -- it's all about the food.

From Little Acorns...

2007-10-20T12:35:00.000-04:00

Oops... that should be, "From Little Peach Pits"...

This little tree is planted in the Children's Garden, pretty much all alone. The drought this summer was so horrific that rather than nurse half dead things along endlessly, I opted to wait till next spring, when this dry spell will be a distant memory and all the nursery plants are fresh and hopeful.

But this little guy was at Home Depot , on clearance, where he'd soldiered on despite a plastic pot and drought conditions and substandard care. His leaves are limp but clinging. If he had that much life in him the least I could do is give him a place to be and a hope in hell of making something of himself. That's all any of us want anyway, really.

It's a very small area, not large enough for a huge tree and my intention is for everything planted here in the Children's Garden to be very child enticing: good things to eat, smell, touch and see. My plan for this little peach tree, the reason I wanted a small one to begin with, is to train him to the wall, so he stands straight and strong. It's called "espalier". He'll require some discipline and some training, but I think he's up to it. And I think I am up to the extra care required, the good things to eat he'll need.

Maybe it's just me, a mother's puffed up pride, but I'm thinking he's going to Do Great Things. Don't you think?

Hot Stuff... Comin' Through!

2007-10-18T07:31:00.000-04:00

Looky here -- two posts in a day!!!! Most unusual, but today is not just any ordinary day -- there's a Queenly Potluck going on. I'm bringing my specialty, Jenny Tetrazzini.

I can't call it Turkey Tetrezzini because.... here's the facts, I next to never follow a recipe -- but I promise you this is delicious. The basics are whole wheat spaghetti, chicken breast, thin veggie gravy and shredded swiss cheese -- to this add whatever it is you like most. In mine this would be bacon, onions, apple, carrots, celery, and mushrooms. And I like to spice things up; a little sage, some ground ginger, a wee pinch of nutmeg and a caution of salt.

It's a full on potluck -- Francie has already brought out jugs of moonsh... um, adult beverages . I'm sure later there will be a bon fire and line dancing. Grab a plate and join us.

What the Flock?

2007-10-17T20:57:00.000-04:00

The crafts I come up with for the Little Old Ladies in my art group usually must fit these three criteria: it must be easy, it must be beautiful, it must be useful... But every now and then we throw caution to the wind and just fool around.

This was such a fun project. What I do is gather supplies. For the flocking I took this fuzzy, eyelashy yarn see...

Then I shredded it into a billion pieces.

I shredded deep pink, bright orange, royal purple and very black. It was fun, fun, fun (but you can see that).

All the supplies were collected into the spectacular Art Case -- all the flocking, the glue, the masks, the rhinstones, the glitter, the sequins and most importantly, the feathers. The art case, packed with mask-making-booty, was dragged to the epi-center of Little Old Lady Crafting Headquarters...

where we had a blast -- so much fun was mask-making that I forgot to take pictures. Oops. It isn't the first time. But trust me, they had a helluva swell time. One of them made a purple and orange mask and anther went hog wild with the feathers, one was entirely enamoured of rhinstones. One, who says every week, "I can't do this, I can't do anything," succeeded in making the most beautiful mask ever. And they asked the same question they ask every week, "How do you come up with these ideas?" If truth be told... I came across a big bag of cool feathers and had to have a place to go with them.

If you were to hide yourself behind a mask, what secret would it conceal?

Treasures

2007-10-10T09:21:00.000-04:00

Never in my life have I owned real silver. Till now.

And to be fair, this isn't "real" silver. It's plate. What connoisseurs of fine things sniff at. But this is my family silver. I'm not sure what happened to the everyday stuff. This is what we set the table with for Christmases and Thanksgivings, Big Deal Birthdays, Engagement announcements.

I didn't so much "inherit" this from my mother, rather I acquired it by default. We went around the room, "Do you want this? Do you want this? Do you want this?" We did this about everything -- from silver to blankets, holiday decorations to sweaters. It was very quick; we're a decisive lot. I got the silver because nobody else wanted it. I guess my brother and sister already have silverware. And now, so do I.

But something was missing. A knife and a fork. The set was incomplete -- I felt I'd failed to look after the family silverware from the minute I got it ... 5, 6, 7, 5, 6, 7... there should be 8. 8 little spoons, 8 salad forks, 8 dinner forks, 8 knives... Why don't soup spoons ever go missing? There were 8 soup spoons, but only 7 forks, 7 knives.

It bugged me that two pieces were missing. Thank goodness for the internet. Thank goodness for Replacements. Have you ever been there? I love Replacements.com. For one thing I LOVE china. But they deal in crystal and silver too. Even if you don't know the pattern name of the piece you are looking for, send in a photo and they will identify it for you. How cool is that?

As it happens I do know the name of my silver, so I looked it up, placed an order, -- 1 knife, 1 fork. There was even a choice between pristine perfect ones or ones with "flaws", "mars," and "imperfections". Wait, mine are 60 years old -- this was my mother's wedding silver. It's been banged around quite a bit. I opted for "flawed" silver.

And looky -- it's here. I still don't see any flaws. It's lovely. My family silver is once again a whole set.

Just in time to set the Thanksgiving table... I better practice -- I've never set my own table with good silver. I wonder if my son and his wife will like it... I can tell them the story about the missing knife and fork. They can tell their son... after all, it isn't the silver that's the family treasure, it's the stories... always the stories.

Gut Apetit.

Men Working

2007-10-07T10:28:00.001-04:00

What's not to like about men working? ... gathering their tools and making something wonderful happen.

Especially something wonderful on the roof of my very cottage.

Ain't it purty? I so love this steel roof for so many reasons -- not the least of which is that it went up so fast. No tear off, no mess, no stress. Now the autumn rains can come and I won't cringe every time the sky gathers dark clouds. My pretty green steel roof is secure. My only worry is the next project... It's always something. But this something is done.

Dying for a New Purse

2007-10-01T23:02:00.000-04:00

This bad pun was bound to come up sooner or later. I LOVE to dye stuff... any stuff. Tops, bed sheets, wee little ribbons, great big drapes. I need less than no incentive to drag out my boxes of dye. I mix colors, I blend colors, I play like nobody's in charge.

But this time I really have a good excuse ~ my old purse is ratty. I need a new one. And I can't just go to the store to buy a purse. (I'm beginning to notice that I can't just go to the store to buy anything -- first it was curtains. I can't buy curtains -- I have to make them. Then it was doggy collars... and pillow shams, towel trims, dust ruffles.) Once I even made my own dining room rug. This is getting out of hand isn't it? I'll consult a psychiatrist another time -- just now I have a purse in need of making. So, I have dyed my fabrics, gathered my pieces, cut out my "pattern" -- "Pattern? I don't need no stinking pattern."

I have embellished my pocket. Stitched down my straps. (yes, it is lined, I should have showed it to you.) Then I stitched and snipped and fluffed my fringe.
Looky here, Mama's got a brand new bag. How cool is that?

Dance With Me...

2007-09-24T18:11:00.000-04:00

I am soooooooooooooooo ready for DANCING WITH THE STARS. Are you ready? It's one thing to be a JEOPARDY Dork... but they at least give me a brand new show every night, no waiting, no withdrawals. But now I am a Dancing Dork too and between seasons, I. Can't. Stand. It. I need to dance... Gotta dance... I can't dance... don't ask me... But oh I will, with much glee and enthusiasm, I will twirl and pirouette, leap and plie. It is not just a TV show, it's an event, a happening. Speaking of which, it happens to be "Work in the Shop" night. No play time for me... OH... but a girl's gotta eat... a little wine, a little cheese. Breads, meats, fruits...

So here we are... a well-stocked shop fridge, a precisely placed TV and I can have my work and my dancing too. I better turn the saw off whilst I "shimmy-shimmy-shake" lest I come up short on digits.
Dance with me... I'll share my wine, I'll slice off some more cheese ... we'll make a night of it. Here in the shop, join me, there's room.

Ushering in Autumn

2007-09-05T00:56:00.000-04:00

I can't say where summer went, but this week my Senior Art Party project will usher in autumn. I'm a big fan of treasure boxes in all shapes and sizes. For my group I did in fact get wooden boxes in all different shapes and sizes. Square, round, oval, sectagonal. Some have hinged lids while others have lift off lids. I thought the little clasp on the hinged lids might be hard for the ones with arthritus. It's no fun having a treasure box if you can't open it to take a peek at your treasure. Add an autumnal floral arrangement on top and what's not to like? The colors will set the tone and I'm hoping to engage them in a discussion of what they'll keep in their treasure box. Maybe they'll squirrel away a treasure, like a key to an old long-gone car. Or snippets of silk and lace that remain from a wedding dress.

If you had a treasure box just for you, what would you hide inside?

Sum Total

2007-08-29T23:51:00.000-04:00

Of course these few things are not the sum total of my mother's life... but I see any of them, individually or as a group and instantly my mother springs to mind. The picture in the back is of her mother, my grandma, as a child. I use this image a lot A LOT in my artful collages. The china shoe is from my grandma's collection, dispersed and dispensed with in 1968. It is all that remains.The chicken trophy was won by her dad, my grandpa. He won lots of chicken trophies, oddly enough. The Hummel, the doll in the green dress and the pearls all belonged to my mother. She especially liked pretty things. I have lots of her pretty things... a ring, nice wine goblets, now the pearls...

And yet the thing that most reminds me of my mom is this ugly pitiful doll. I have held onto and protected this ugly doll most of my life... since I was ten or so. My mother made her when she was seven. This pitiful doll doesn't even have a name, though I have taken to calling her Ruth, my mother's middle name. I have long been amazed that a seven-year-old could make such a thing, shape the wire armature body, wrap it 'round with muslin strips, puff out the body, stitch on a head. Mom made the clothes... all from scraps, leftover bits of nothing,

The hair is fringe from her mother's bedspread. Mom, at age 7, snipped it from the very most visible center of her mother's bedspread and got into terrible trouble for the deed. "I got beat for that," she said. I do not doubt for one minute that my grandmother, enraged, certainly did beat her for cutting a snippet of fringe from a perfectly good bedspread. But my grandmother is long gone. The bedspread is gone. And now, too, my mother is gone. Only this doll, this pitiful ugly doll, remains. My mother died Sunday and all I have of her are these trinkets, among them this doll and the knowing that her hands made something out of nothing.... that's it... the sum total of a life. Something out of nothing, which is enough really... In fact it is everything.

Polo Anyone?

2007-08-26T18:11:00.000-04:00

Oh, how I love watching polo ~ don't you? If you haven't yet encountered a match, at next opportunity you simply must. It is a fun game, an exciting game. There are horses and handsome riders, there are tailgate parties lining the field -- there is nothing to not like about polo.
This is a charity game we attend in Indianapolis the same weekend every year.

Sometimes the charities are animal related, like dog rescue groups. (That dog, Holly, is hardly in need of rescue.) Once or twice the charity has been Agape, which is a horse riding therapy program for children with neuro-muscular issues like cerebral palsy or children with MS or MD or even autistic children benefit from a horseback riding program.

This year the charity is women's breast and gynecological cancers. They are putting together a women's health symposium of female specific cancers to further the cause and hopefully hurry the cure. This tent, above, is the raffle and silent auction items -- there were weekend getaways, spa retreats, there was local art, carpets, limo date night with dinner and entertainment -- all sorts of fancy stuff was raffled off. the silent auction items were mostly sports related (don't ask me why or how -- something about a shirt signed by Larry Byrd and Jerseys by the Colts and ... ok, my secret is out, I know squat about sports.... I'm under the impression, though, that this was great stuff, jerseys and shoes and tickets, tra-la.

Apparently this is a very big deal on a lot of levels -- the news people come out....

Little children get dressed up . Isn't she just too too cute in her be-ribboned chambray dress and charming cheery pink cowgirl boots?

The reason I get to go is that guy there, Gordon, in the yellow shirt. I've been dating him since... a long long time. He announces this polo match every year and they LOVE him for doing such a spectacular job. He explains the game very clearly --- he explains the rules and how long the chukkers are and the significance of the riders' positions on the field. When there is a penalty on the play he explains why and how. When Gordon announces a game even first timers catch on very quickly. And since he goes to Indy, I get to go to Indy too.

Ahhhhhhhhh, polo... what's not to like?

Pasta Salad?

2007-08-22T17:48:00.001-04:00

What this bowl needs is a nice pasta salad, don't you think?

I'm going on a picnic and what I need to bring is pasta salad... So, do you have a Best, Fabulous, Wonderful, Remarkable or even simply Really Good pasta salad that you care to share? I have thunk and thunk and have come to the conclusion that pastaly speaking, I am stumped.

I'd much appreciate it.

Look What Got Dumped on My Doorstep

2007-08-19T07:27:00.001-04:00

It's the dearest baby!

And I guess, if nobody else wants him for the day... I'll take him in... we'll muddle through. (oh, such a face!)

Looky, he has a turtle on his shirt... maybe my froggy pond needs a turtle... or two.

The Dazzling Dirty Dish Fountain

2007-08-15T08:36:00.000-04:00

After weeks of fiddling and fooling and deconstruction and digging deep and waiting for electric and cleaning out mud, finally, tah-da, the Magical Froggy Pond with it's Dazzling Dish Fountain is finished:

The very second I turned on the pump and the water cascaded over the stack of dishes and spilled into the pond just the way it is supposed to my heart swelled with pride and delight. "OhMyGosh, the image in my head is actually working before my eyes!" I LOVE that.

I have to mention that this is not entirely my own original idea. Miss Greenthumb Jean
has the cutest tea kettle fountain -- it's shown in her archive under May 5. The minute I saw it I knew I wanted dishes in my pond. I LOVE dishes. Perfect. So thank you Jean for the perfect idea. Blessedly it turned out really well.

Next is the planting here and there so it doesn't look quite so bare. As this was coming about I did get some mums, but despite daily the recent sweltering heat took it's toll. They don't look so good... so back to the nusery to see what further mischeif I can get into.

Also, of couse, the pond so longs for fishes and froggies. There is a fish hatchery nearby, which is where I got the water cabbage/lettuce, water hyacinth and lily pads. (There is some debate here as to which it is -- lettuce or cabbage. If you know, do tell.) Anyway, the fish hatchery people are smart enough to sell other pond accoutrements to suckers like me who say, "Oooh, pretty, I will pay cash money for some of that." At some point I will have to blog about the fish hatchery -- it is amazing! Tank after HUGE tank of fishes and froggies and crawdads, oh my!

But for now we are all glee and delight over my dazzling dirty dish fountains. And if you have any ideas of what to plant there around the pump please share, I am eager for ideas.

Welcome to the Swelter Belt

2007-08-11T22:29:00.000-04:00

I know many of you live here permanently and could just as soon quietly die of heat stroke than hear one more peep about current temperatures, but for those of you who aren't from around here there are a few details one needs to to know while visiting the Swelter Belt.

First of all, no matter how cute it sounds, and frankly it doesn't sound all that cute, asking anyone, "Is it Hot Enough For Ya?" not only marks you as a tourist, it's the kind of idiotic comment that can put your life instantly in jeopardy. It IS hot enough for us which gives us cause to be real cranky.

Another overused comment to keep to oneself is the one about it not being the heat, but rather the humidity. When, at 8 a.m. you step from a cool shower in an air conditioned house and by 8:15 you are profusely sweating it's the heat. When you stop at the market on the way home to pick up a bottle of milk which, during the 12 minute ride from the store to home, curdles, it is the heat. When having a bowl of ice cream on the front porch sounds to anyone older than age four like a lousy idea it IS the heat.

Some folks, I suppose, are more acclimated to heat than others. If you live in the southern states along the gulf coast where it is sticky miserable 8 months out of the year, one presumes that eventually a body gets used to it. But those of us in the midwest whose thermometer guage ranges from the depths of sub-zero winters to the current outrageous angry high heat, we're confused for the first ten days or so of a heat wave. "Is this really happening," we wonder. Didn't we just put away our galoshes? Isn't summer supposed to be "Fun in the Sun" season. Sticking to the car seat and not being able to breathe is somehow not so much fun as one might imagine.

So do yourself a favor, grab something tall and cool. Pick up a quiet, solitary activity like reading (it's way too hot to crochet). Sit under a tree or near a fan. As night falls you won't feel any cooler, but you can pour something potent into your tall glass. Pretty soon, for no reason, you'll feel more chipper about both the heat and the humidity... for a little while.

Y'all come back now... ya hear.

For any of you who have wondered where I've been for the last ten days or so, as I pop in sporadically, my computer is in the hot part of the house. My bedroom and my kitchen are air conditioned... the rest of my house is not. We seem to be getting a reprieve. Right this minute it's only 87 ... I might need a jacket. I hope all is cool as can be where you are.

Nice Matters

2007-08-08T20:45:00.001-04:00

Out of the blue she pegged me for the NICE MATTERS AWARD. Thanks, Betty. For this I am thrilled and honored. How nice. My own private little credo is that if you can't be nice be quiet. I try to follow this rule as often as possible.

I do need to mention that for some reason I could not get the graphic to come live at my blog, despite noble efforts. It happens that way sometimes. But I did make my own:

And isn't it so true -- being nice DOES matter.

As for who to tap as "nice".... such a hard call. Hmmm -- I can't pick everybody, but I will definitely pick Francie at THE SCENTED COTTAGE... go see her ~ she really IS nice.
Enjoy the nice heat (grumble, crab, bitch, bellyache, whine... ooops, not quite sooooo nice.)

The Happy Gardener

2007-08-05T19:57:00.000-04:00

This is my dad who is a lot happier about his abundant hanging baskets than he looks. In fact he is downright puffed up with pride and delight about them -- though you can't tell by the look on his face.

My dad is the CUTEST little thing. I always thought he looked a lot like a leprechaun. And most of the time he's cheerful and charming... accept with certain relatives, which makes loads of sense to me.

Daddy has been legally blind for some fifteen years -- he has macular degeneration from having spent 40 years in the sun with no eye protection. Yet he does his own cooking, cleaning, laundry and plant growing. Just in front of those baskets is a mighty impressive tomato plant -- and when the tomatoes are ripe he will pick them, peel them and can them. Another thing he does is volunteer at the local municipal building -- what we used to call Town Hall. He works real hard and flirts with all the secretaries and lady cops and anyone else who will laugh at his shenanigans.

He even does his own grocery shopping -- I drive, but he writes out his list which is only sometimes hard to read. Did I mention that he is 80.

We should all be this energetic.

A Room of One's Own

2007-07-30T13:58:00.000-04:00

I've been gone most of the week for a very good reason... What I have been using as an art room for entirely too long is meant to be the dining room. It was inadequate and cramped and not set up right.... It seemed like a good idea at the time -- but I could never keep it tidy nor could it be used for dining... And sooooo, I hatched a plan: make the second bedroom serve as a proper art room...

As you can see the walls are slanted, precluding the use of full size bookcases or installing permanent shelving for storage... Also, I very much need a work surface. My solution was to build two identical bookcases, back-to-back at 37" tall to double as storage and work station.

And so they are...

This is a closer look at the front...
And a closer look at the back...
It is the nicest space... I LOVE being in there.... I love that there is a place for everything. I love that it is cozy and inviting.

Yes, this is what I wanted all along ~a room of my own.

Did Somebody Say Pony?

2007-07-24T22:54:00.000-04:00

Because her parents went outta town and she really isn't a lap dog (we don't tell her that) this week Dixie the Great Big Labradoodle spent the week at Camp Jenny! We had a rip roaring good time.... Check out them legs!

This really is one GREAT BIG DOG. She is a Labradoodle, as I mentioned. That's a Labrador Retriever and a Standard Poodle. Someone said this makes a perfect pet -- the laid back Lab and the smart smart poodle.... Someone has not met Dixie. She is, granted, a puppy, but wild as a billy goat. And DUMB. But tender too -- a kinder dog I have never encountered.

Words can not describe how wiggly and squiggly and twisty and turny this dog is... She doesn't walk, she leaps and bounds and gallops and floats... All those long legs seem to know just where to go. Graceful, that's what I'd say.

And kindly. There is that. When Dixie leans against you for comfort, you know you are being leaned against. Dixie is all legs and tenderness. There are certainly worst things to be.

What's Your Sign?

2007-07-18T12:02:00.000-04:00

Of late I am all at sixes and sevens -- though I haven't the first notion what that means... I know it means disoriented and discombobulated. I just don't know where the expression, "Sixes and Sevens" came from. Unless it came from the multiplication tables -- I have never been able to do sixes or sevens with any reliability.

What has me all at sixes and sevens is that I have projects ongoing, but nothing very nearly complete.

Outside I am awaiting an electrical line for the Froggy Pond Pump. I have the pump. I have the fountain (oh, boy this is one really cute china fountain) ... but I can't show it till it is installed and I can't install it till the electric is in. (heavy sigh)

Upstairs, my infamous, "By Noon Tomorrow" art room move from the dining room to the second bedroom is coming along swimmingly -- but, BUT -- there is always a but, what I need are two bookcases. The walls up there are slanty. They're called "hip-walls" or "knee-walls" depending on where they angle up. So I can't hang shelves. And every art room is overrun with bits and pieces of this and that that should have homes and a shelf makes a lovely home for such things. No walls equals no shelves. What I need are bookcases, low ones, that will double as a work surface.

Yes, yes, I CAN build them.... soon as I get one little minute. I'm thinking over the weekend will be fine.

Meanwhile, the onliest little thing I have accomplished this week is that small but essential sign. "Please Be Sure to Close the Refrigerator Door."

I made it for a doctor's office -- for her office staff. They were leaving the little office refrigerator door ajar to where after a short time the little freezer in the little refrigerator was one frozen block of ice.

She wanted to scream... she wanted to kick things. She may have even wanted to smack people upside the head... but we can't as a safe and sane society do that anymore... (too bad)

Instead of screaming or smacking she had me make this sign. It is gentle. It is tender. It wiggles and flitters and is very pretty. It is also to the point. And when I see it I am reminded to calm down, take a deep breath and not scream or smack, not to lose my little mind... in a calm and gentle way, in a dear and favorable time, my things will get done, my electric will get installed, my bookcases will get built... and if not I'll go back to the drawing board and make a new sign.

Once Upon a Doorstep

2007-07-17T08:17:00.000-04:00

On a day when my upstairs is a sHaMbLeS and my downstairs is DIS*mAn*tlEd and I am moving forward on inertia and because there is simply nowhere else to go, the mailman brings this>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>v

Aren't they amazing? The packaging and labels alone are ArtPresent enough!!! See those Great BIG cherries? Hand drawn. The USPS doesn't add artwork (unless you count that stiff stylized eagle.) You should see the letters in my name upclose and personal.

These packages are sent to me all the way from Washington state by DecoDivaDeb, the result of a nickname contest in which she delighted in my entry. If you care to read it it's all here: HummadeedleDee. Mine is the 8th entry down -- OldBagNewTricks -- but the nickname I told my story about is Whistlin' Pete. Go 'head, read it, I'll wait....

Then I began opening the packages. Prizes and presents kept spilling out. It was jam packed loaded! Christmas presents aren't required to be this amazing. There were boxes and bags and envelopes, each stuffed with, well, stuff. Buttons and cards and letters and...

ribbons and totes and tins and things that hang and things that sit, things that twirl and things that glitter...
red things, purple things, yellow things, dotted things, striped things, things tied up with ribbon, things tied up with strings. Just when I thought I was done and had seen it all and was entirely finished... there were more things. Oh, this was the most wonderfullest wonderful package of all. And on a day that promised mess and mayhem... delight and wonder.

Deb, I can not thank you enough for picking me, for sending this wonderful package, for adding your personal touches and details. I am entirely enchanted -- I am going now to Bloom where I am Planted. With Glee.

Back to Work

Is THIS the dining room?

2007-07-14T20:12:00.000-04:00

What I want is my dining room back.... it is as simple as that. Simple yes, but it is the hard part too. Right now and since as long as I can remember (which isn't very long) my work room has been in the dining room. Once a year I make a cursory sort and toss so's that the dining table can be found, a meal is served and then quick as can be it is business as usual, a happy mess again.

But somehow I got this niggle... it is a wiggly niggle -- I want my dining room back. I want... I want... I want, as they say, to have my cake and eat it to... in civilized style, at a table please.

So if I am to have my dining room back (which is silly because, accept once a year, who uses it?) I will have to either dispense with my work room...YIKES! Oooorrrrrr, I'll have to move my work room. Move? Move where? Listen, this is a really little house and I have some nerve expecting as much of it as I do and now I want to have a dining room and a work room, my cake and eat it too. Hmmm, I am pushing it...

But there is a solution. I do have a second bedroom. It currently isn't doing anything... accept it houses brickabrac and knick-knacks and old clothes and an old bed and... oh, for the Love of Mike, if I want my dining room where a dining room belongs and a work room in the second bedroom... then I am required to sort through all those knick-knacks and brickabrac, the flotsam, the jetsom, the old clothes, the nonsense that has become my life. I have to take things out of the closet and ask the really hard question -- "Can I now or will I ever again fit into this?"

Some smart aleck organizer once said that we wear 20% of our clothes 80% of the time -- That sounds about right. The rest of our clothes simply take up space. Well in a house this small there isn't any space to lose... Where'd all this stuff come from. Is it like stray puppies that simply follow me home?

Some folks are mighty attached to their excess clothes, some folks like to hang onto their pretty things... And the rest of us just don't want to be bothered sorting through them... I am the latter sort. My deeply attached days are done -- but sorting through all these things is no fun.

It occurs to me I should have bought myself a treat, some bribe... I will work for bribes. I am easy, but I am not cheap. The bribe should have been something good, like a new rug for the dining room... or at the very least a table cloth.

How about this -- if I get these rooms switched by noon tomorrow I will buy myself... more stuff? Hmm, no wonder I didn't bribe me -- I'm no good at dreaming up an adequate bribe.. But wait.... Not stuff... if I get this miserable, I mean lovely room transformed by noon tomorrow I will create a FAB-ulous dinner... a nice wine, a stuffed mushroom or two... What? It isn't like I'm going to fit into those old clothes again.

Here I go, to pitch a bunch more piles and dream up a menu... Too bad you don't live closer -- I would happily share. Happily.

Sure, I could fold laundry...

2007-07-10T22:59:00.000-04:00

For that matter I could wash dishes, clean out the fridge, sweep the porch, dust the lightbulbs or wax the driveway. There are dozens of inane little household chores to which I could attend... Or I could wander into my workroom and play with this...

When you come across a wee-tiny bottle as adorable and dear as this one... you can't just leave it standing there naked, awkward, shivering. It needed... beads... and paint... glitter.

For this the laundry will wait... I'm like that.

What are you like? Which art or craft grabs you by the throat and whispers in your ear, "Come play; we need you,"? What's the wee tiny naked bottle that calls your name?

$19 Worth of Flea Market Dishes

2007-07-08T08:46:00.000-04:00

First of all I am tickled... second of all... to figure out how to make it all work.

Work into what, you ask.... Oh, how to explain... these lovely dishes are destined to be an intregal function of my Froggy Pond Fountain... Aren't they lovely? I love dishes. I had three sets of dishes for my own use before I knew I was collecting. At five sets it was borderline obsessing.

So it makes sense that I should have dishes in my Froggy Pond Fountain...

Oh, pinks and greens and flowers, oh my. I'm not sure if they will all fit in ... clearly I have more dishes than I have space in my dishpan. But who was I leave behind? For .50c here and a dollar there... And all of them raising their little china hands shrieking, "Pick me, pick me!!!" who, I mean which, was I to leave behind?

This is where I am spending my day, what about you?

Froggy Pond Extraordinaire

2007-07-05T18:55:00.000-04:00

Remember this -- these wretched scary roots and the sad as anything soil?

Behold -- the froggy pond. This is the difference a holiday can make. Oh, I so wish you could see inside -- the terracing is a work of art. I am so amazed and impressed! Clearly I need more rocks and there is some tweaking to do, a fountain to build. But very soon I will get to the fun planting part... I think a frog or two might be happy to call this little pond home, don't you?

2007-07-04T07:36:00.000-04:00

Happy 4th of July!!!!!

Some of you may know that one of the hats I wear is that of Miss Jenny ~ The Art Lady. For this endeavor, labor of love, I pack my little artsty-craftsy suitcase with glue and glitter, bits of ribbon, bottles of buttons and other fancy stuff. This I take to select senior centers and assisted living residences where, with the Little Old Ladies who live there (rarely do men engage in art or craft) and we make stuff. We've made magnet boards and treasure boxes, May Baskets and graduation cards, night lights and picture frames.

I have a list of criteria for what makes the list of things we will make. It must be EASY, it must be BEAUTIFUL, it must be USEFUL. Also, we don't do paint and we don't do candles. Dreaming up projects is sometimes a challenge -- sometimes I don't know what we're doing till almost we are doing it.

4th of July, being (one hopes) a bright, sunny, outdoorsy kind of holiday, a broad brimmed straw hat is nice shade to aging eyes and adds instant flare to an otherwise ordinary ensemble. And if you haven't noticed little old lady hair, a hat is a good thing.

They had such a good time assembling their patriotic hats. One of my little old ladies once taught French; to her this was a chapeau. "My daughgter will be so jealous," said another Little Old Lady, beaming with glee. They like that, having something grand that no one else has. Perhaps one day scientists will discover that that is the key ingredient in keeping us young. Pride in Ownership. The Little Old Ladies selected ribbons and flags, flowers and garland. They wrapped and twisted and taped and glued. They had a joyous good time. My Art Lady project was a success. Whew!

What others of you don't know is that I am a veteran. It sounds a bigger deal than it is because it happened almost by default. When I was 18, graduated from high school and didn't yet know what I wanted to do when I grew up, I went to see a recruiter so that at least I had a place to go while I figured out what to be. Next thing I knew I was Air Force.

I say that like I alone was the whole shootin' match military. It is a common vernacular. When a veteran talks about his or her branch of the service it will be in the possessive. "I AM Air Force." Not, "I was IN the Air Force." I am not sure why this is... I guess it is again, Pride of Ownership, though I can not for sure say if the Air Force had me or I had the Air Force... hmmmm. At some point, though, it became who I am: I am blond, I am blue-eyed, I am Air Force. Before I knew it, before I knew I had a patriotic bone in my body, a piece of our country slipped into my DNA. Now when I see the flag, hear taps or stand to sing the obligatory Star Spangled Banner, my right shoulder itches to snap a salute.

And so for me, for one reason or another, 4th of July is a little bit of a big deal.

Over the Moon!!!

2007-07-02T21:48:00.001-04:00

OMG -- look who I got to hang out with yesterday!!!

A Little Tuffet Came a Callin'

2007-06-28T23:27:00.000-04:00

So I arrived home with a truck load of dirt, see... when there on the porch was a package. Do you ever just know something special is at hand? One minute before what we had was an ordinary day and then... Oh My, looky here. Better than a box load of puppies is all I'm sayin'. Don't you think?

This is such a pretty tuffet. Even Talia thinks so and she' not easy to impress.

These beautiful vintage needlepoints are rescued by Sharon at C'est Chouette. With an abused or neglected needlepoint in her hot little hand, Sharon co-ordinates the perfect fabrics and trims. She measures and cuts and stitches till they are cushions anew. Once restored and refreshed, from her website, Sharon finds them new homes. A one-woman needlepoint rescue society. Ya know, more and more these pretty little tuffets do remind me of a box load of puppies -- but quieter and better behaved.

It seems someone dear to me conspired with Sharon to send this lovely tuffet. I'm not sure I should say who.... but it was such a nice gesture, a grand gesture... It occurs to me that if she and Sharon combined their efforts, stuffed the Scent from one's Cottage into the pillows of the other, they'd have the world's great biggest sachet.

I love this tuffet -- doesn't it look like the Painted Cabinet has been saving a spot for it?

Thank you both for your kindness, your generosity and for being my friends. Talia says "Thanks" too -- she especially likes her pretties.

A Sink Full of Bailey

2007-06-27T08:37:00.001-04:00

On a day like any other day, when all I want to do is brush my teeth and get on with it ... I encounter this... Bailey in the Sink. And I have to ask myself, "Is she there for a reason (the gods have conspired to put obstacles before me to keep me home and safe, to which I would be wise to listen) or is she just there?" For me it's a hard call, really.

Roots and Other Treasures

2007-06-23T09:00:00.000-04:00

My wee froggy pond is going and growing, but oh-so slowly . It seems I encountered some nasty nasty roots. In my yard it is hard to not encounter nasty roots. My house and my postage-stamp sized lot, sits smack in the center of freakin' Sherwood Forest. There are trees to the right of me. There are trees to the left of me. Any trees that were actually mine have been mostly hacked down. I don;t have a problem with trees per se -- trees are nice... unless they are shading and shadowing my house, my garage, my deck, my everything that is mine, blocking out sunshine which warms and cleans and kills mold and moss spores.
And so, in revenge for hacking down six trees, each and every spade I dig into the earth is circumvented by roots. Roots, roots, roots. Like these:

They look like they could happily reach out and snatch me into the earth and keep me. But I will be brave and see what I can do to hack them out of what will be my frog pond. It's them or me.

So on a day when I have my work cut out for me, this lovely package has arrived from Dear Francie of The Scented Cottage!!! Boas and bells and beads, Oh My!!! This is from the private crafting stash of Francie and her late mother -- I am so honored that Francie shares with me. I do crafting classes at a couple of assisted living centers. Coming up with projects can be a challenge, but twice Francie has generously shared from her stash. As a result she has saved my crafting sanity. This box also includes ribbon roses, patterns a bit of piece work, crafting sticks, charms and stencils... Surely I can find something in here to craft with my "Little Old Ladies" , or I'm not Miss Jenny the Art Lady .

I knew this treasure was from Francie of The SCENTED Cottage before I even opened it, thanks to the wonderful aroma coming from within. Right on top, the lower right hand corner, is the loveliest scented sachet in the prettiest vintage morning glory packet. She has sachets and candles and sprays and melters... I'd be hard pressed to select a favorite... I love her candles -- the rich scent lasts and lasts even when they are not burning. These sachets I tuck here and there around my workroom for a nice scent wafting past my nose as I work -- that's really nice. But I'd say the most glorious luxury of all is linen spray. When my weary bones nestle into my bed at night, after a long day in the workshop or an afternoon wrestling roots, my cool scented sheets envelope me in a delicate lavendar scent and I am off to sweet dreams in minutes. A visit to Francie's scent shop and in no time your home will enjoy the most wonderful medley of soothing scents.

Picasso Blew Up

2007-06-19T06:01:00.001-04:00

I thought I was on the right track, getting all my little projects done.
First this:
Then these:
Followed by these: Which made way for bigger projects, like this:
And this:

But it has all taken a toll and now my workroom looks like ... well, it looks like Picasso exploded in there... don't you think?

My choices are clear... I could clean it up... I could... or I could go take a peek at this little guy...

Hmm, what would you do, if it were up to you? Me too - See ya.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Boy

2007-06-15T23:36:00.000-04:00

Kai William
8 lbs.

Exquisite doesn't really cover it....

Is It a Baby Yet?

2007-06-14T18:22:00.000-04:00

Hello, hello -- I am off to the hospital with this wee bit of a tea cup bouquet for my dearest of all Dear Daughter-in-Law, Shanna. She is poised to produce my much awaited grandchild... Oh My...

UPDATE: According to folks who know about these things, this baby isn't making his appearance till after midnight -- likely after 1 a.m., way too late for this aging Nana. Photos to follow.

Luckiest Little Girl in the World

2007-06-11T08:20:00.000-04:00

It is amazing how early the dye is cast. This little girl was a ruffian from the start, but tender too, easily bruised and very kind. Little has changed.

I recall the day this picture was taken as if it were yesterday. It was early, we'd come from Grandma's and I'd been "dressed up". A dress. Nice shoes. As we pulled in the driveway in that big tank of a car I became very excited. Boys were playing baseball in the makeshift ball diamond across the street.

"Oh, I wanna go, I wanna go, I wanna go."
"Not yet," Mom said. "You have to get your clothes changed."
"I wanna go, I wanna go, I wanna go."

I LOVED watching the boys play ball. I wanted to BE one of the boys playing ball. I didn't want to go in to eat. I didn't want to go in to sleep. I sure didn't want to go in to take a bath. I wanted to sit in the fine dust of the ball diamond dirt and watch the boys play ball.

And for this I needed wardrobe. That was the girl in me. The right clothes for the setting. I needed my hat, my glove, my bat. (To watch cowboy shows on Saturday mornings I needed my cowboy shirt, ironed, which is another story.)

We were in my room, Mom and me. It was summer, the casement windows were cranked open. In with the breeze that ruffled muslin curtains came the sounds of nearby play. The sharp crack of a hard bat meeting ball, whoops and cheers from boys thrilled at how far the ball had flown. The batter ran. Outfielders scrambled to scoop up the ball. The ball was thrown from hand to mit, from the outfielder to second baseman, thwop, to catcher, thwop. "Safe."More cheers. More whoops. And I was missing it as Mom pondered whether I should wear the blue chambray shorts or the yellow flowered skirt set. She had gotten only as far as my shoes. "Gotta go."

Her back turned, I grabbed my chance, along with my bat, hat and glove and darted out the door. I wasn't so much running away from real clothes as I was running toward the baseball game, my eye on the prize, as fast as my fat little legs could go. "Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go."

So little has changed, nothing is really different. I wear more appropriate clothes now is all.

Before I got very far somebody snatched me up. "Catch her," I heard Mom's voice trailing behind me. "No, don't catch me, I've got things to do." But somebody did catch me -- my legs still flying, two feet off the ground. It was Daddy, laughing, dodging my bat, ducking my hat, bending to pick up my dropped glove. "Hold on there." He carried me back, presumably for more clothes.

"Set her down there." Mom had thought to grab the camera. It must have been out. It must have been loaded. We were not the impromptu photo kind of family. I remember looking at her, camera in front of her face, and me thinking, "Can't you see I have things to do. Gotta go." She snapped the picture and the moment was saved. Me and my wardrobe. My altogether. This is who I was, who I am. Then the moment was gone and I was off.

It would be years till I knew girls were not allowed to play ball, years more till I knew girls couldn't be carpenters or veterinarians... and even more years till I understood what it meant that girls couldn't just walk into Harvard to take their own hard won seat. I didn't know any of this on that day. I was merely there in my underwear being my very best little happy self and nobody dared tell me the battles that would come. Maybe they didn't know... maybe they couldn't bare to think about it.

When I look at this picture it tells me everything I need to know about myself, about who I am, which is that I am very lucky. And I think that if you are very lucky you know you are not where you came from or where you went to school. You are not the number on a bank account, nor a gender or an outfit... you are who you are. For better or worse, whoever you are at two is essentially who you are -- that is who you have to work with. Lucky for me, I came mostly equipped.

So Many Projects...

2007-06-07T07:16:00.001-04:00

Perhaps it is a function of my age... there's just been so much time elapse, allowing for backed up projects. All I know is I turned around three times and my work room was buzzing as I was merely passing through...

It all seems to go along swimmingly. I have a plan. There's a baby gift, a graduation gift, a "You are My Friend gift"... on top of "I need to sell something so I can buy more supplies" projects. I have motivation... then somebody calls. Somebody needs me to babysit, somebody wants an Art Party... or most recently, somebody died (an uncle, my dad's last living brother -- I am more driver than mourner, either way, I've got to drop my work and go.)

Mmmmmmm, what to do, what to do? What I was thinking was... I could clone myself... Well, you didn't think my solution was to stop this "make it madness" and simply go "buy" gifts, did you? I'm not sure I would know how... Hmmmm, I'll visit that one a while. Have a Terrific Day; I gotta run.

Magical Frog Pond Dig Soiree

2007-06-04T08:50:00.000-04:00

It is the sort of event you aren't sure is going to come off -- like a move. Is it going to happen? Is it going to be awful? Are my people who promised to come going to come?

The event was scheduled for Dining at 6, Digging to Commence Immediately After. Adrian has never been an especially enthusiastic physical laborer and I've never set down judgments about that, though I could, considering he is of a family of physical laborers... Is it a good thing? A bad thing? I don't know. But he agreed to come -- this Magical Froggy Pond is for HIS upcoming child after all.

While planning this event it seemed a lovely idea to set up a canopy. Dining outside, nice enough on it's own, also provides a lovely "nest" if you will for Shanna, the mother-to-be, to be. And so the canopy was raised, a nice cushioned wicker chair was settled in. Odd chairs from here and there were gathered round. Lucy the Cheerful Bichon, who is visiting, checked to make sure all the preparations were being placed correctly. She especially approved the sheer swag for it's
festive appeal. I was about to string lights inside the canopy when it began to rain buckets and vermin.

Oh no -- I was pretty sure I could get them to come to dig ... but would they come to dig if it were raining? Would they bulk... would they grumble? Well, yes, they would grumble, de rigeur for any work required event. The food was already prepared and with rain coming in torrents there was only so much fussing I could do with the tables and table settings. Then, just in time, it cleared. The rain ceased, the sun came out -- temperatures had dipped comfortably and the ground where the digging would take place was softer but not soaked. How good was this? Divine Providence.

And so they came... Well, Shanna, the Mother-to-Be, did not come and I was very sorry to not get to spend time with her -- she is very dear. She sent her regrets and it reminded me of when Adrian was very nearly here. I had a day when I felt, oddly, not quite right... and then nothing. For several days I was fine as fine, till one day, during which I felt like any other day, he came.

My workers were amazed that I set out all this for them. If not for them, then who? And as it was raining I didn't get to set up the lights or really fuss with the tables, but men do not notice. As it was they seemed pleased. Impressed. Hungry.

I love those little ceramic dishes -- they all have lids, so I can prepare all my foods, stack them in the fridge and yet they are nice enough to set on a table (I have issues with plastics as tableware. Seems lots of my issues involve the table... I eschew paper napkins... Oh, if only there were time enough to seek proper mental health.) What I opted to serve -- because we would be working afterward, and because my son and his wife are vegetarians, -- was veggie wraps. Filling enough that my workers wouldn't faint, healthy enough that they wouldn't stuff themselves into a useless stupor.

It worked and so did they. They dug... they cracked concrete. Adrian, as it turned out, was a really really good digger. And he was the one who helped me figure the shape. I can usually envision anything -- things that aren't there is a specialty of mine... But this Magical Frog Pond had me stumped. The white stuff is flour that we used as a sort of "chalk" line. They did such a nice job.
Once the big chunks of concrete were broken up and once the perimeter was dug my workers enjoyed a lovely dessert... strawberries, apples, raspberries with orange glace and whipped cream. We admired their work and then they left. It is now up to me to dig deep, to fuss, to get the fine points right.

This is what I will be doing for days -- but what I lack in speed, I make up for in sheer sticktoitiveness ... and so I go, back to dig. It will be done soon. It will be a Magical Frog Pond.

Visitors, Packages and Brainstorms

2007-06-02T21:07:00.000-04:00

I do a lot of different kinds of work for a lot of different kinds of people and one of those tasks is more a labor of love -- I get to babysit Lucy. Lucy, as you can see, is entirely charming:

Maybe she looks only a little demonic -- well quite a lot actually, but I assure you, she really is a sweetie. Everyone thinks so... accept Talia:

Talia is not buying the "Happy Visitor" routine -- she believes down to her toes that Lucy is an evil invader and it isn't soon enough till Lucy goes home. Talia will sulk, Talia will pout... for about four days, at which time she will decide that maybe Lucy isn't so bad after all and so she will play nice and happy and cheery. They will cavort and leap and twirl for an entire day and a half. Then it will be time for Lucy to go home. And THEN Talia will sulk and pout and look bored and pitiful. Good grief

Today was not only a thrilling day thanks to the arrival of Lucy, but also my very brave mailman delivered the happiest package. (The dogs carry on so ferociously I am ever amazed the mailman bothers to approach my doorstep at all.)

My Package was from Teresa at MaggieGraceCreates and boy did she ever. This was for an ATC swap -- part of the swap is that the ATC be mounted or framed. Teresa is a quilter of the first order... so she quilted both the ATC AND the frame upon which it hangs!!! Isn't this the cleverest thing. One of Teresa's posts, while making this was JENNY, DON'T LOOK! It was so hard to not look, but I didn't want to spoil the surprise. Now I'll have to go back and look! I am endlessly impressed with quilters. All those perfect little blocks... all those tiny stitches. Looky here: And being very sweet, Teresa packed, and I mean packed this box with all manner of lovlies from her very own studio... there are charms and trims and papers, OhMy!

That's quite a lot, isn't it. Thanks Teresa!! I LOVE it.

And now, for the BRAINSTORM portion of our show -- because it is the weekend, which is when I get the bulk of work done on my ongoing Children's Garden project, it occured to me that what I needed was a hand! Or rather a a couple of hands attached to some strong and mighty muscles. (Leaves me out.)How to get muscles here? How?

What I want to do is dig a Magical Frog Pond -- because every Children's Garden needs one. And there is a sidewalk right in the way of where the Magical Frog Pond goes. I swung a sledgehammer rather effectively a time or two before it struck me that somebody younger or bigger should be doing this. And perhaps the path to getting them here is magical ... a party. I will have a Magical Frog Pond Digging Party. Invites have gone out and it will be held tomorrow. The revelers are mostly vegetarian, so I am serving very healthy veggie wraps along with fruit smoothies -- because if I serve them beer they will be too bloated and groggy to sling a sledgehammer or dig a very impressive frog pond hole. And for dessert (my daughter-in-law is a pastry chef, so I never bother with cake, that's her very impressive department) we are having fruit compote -- all my favorite fruits topped with orange glace, almond slivers and whipped cream.

I've never had a work party before, but it makes a lot of sense and to my sensibilities it sounds like a lot of fun -- I'll let you know how it works out.

Senior Art Parties

2007-05-30T23:13:00.000-04:00

It seemed such a good idea at the time... to bring arts and crafts to little old ladies at local assisted living centers. So many of their activities and events are passive -- watching a play, a ballgame, sitting on a bus for a city tour. Yawn... With arts and crafts they have to engage their brains and their hands... they have to interact... "Can you pass the scissors? Is this the right glue? What are we doing?"

Sometimes they struggle...

Sometimes they whine...

Sometimes they concentrate really hard that when their name is called really loud, even if they have their hearing aid in, they don't hear you.

And when they are all done, despite the struggling and grumbling... they are amazed at what they have done. Sometimes I am pretty amazed at what we have done too.

Power Tool Tuesday!!!!!!!

2007-05-29T08:11:00.000-04:00

More than Merely a Drill

What can be said about a simple drill.... quite a lot really. Drills aren't just for drilling anymore -- we use them as screwguns and as sanding drums, they are required to drill pilot holes. Drills come in various battery powered sizes and lots of electric varieties.

The goal, for our purposes, is to focus on what we are most likely to need and use.

Pictured here are a 1/3 horsepower electric drill, a 12 volt battery powered drill and an 18 volt battery operated drill:

The most powerful is the electric -- but, being tethered to a cord, it is also the most unweildy. On the other end of the spectrum is the light-weight 12 volt drill, center, which doesn't hold a charge for very long and doesn't have the power for more than very light tasks of drilling an occassional hole -- to hang a picture or screwing together a piece of flat pack furniture. The 18V, right, is the workhorse. It has almost the power of the 1/3 horsepower eletric drill, but is self contained and can go anywhere. Up ladders, across the house, up on the roof or under the sink. Take note, that the 18V battery is twice the size of the 12V battery. It is somewhat heavier than the 12V, but not prohibitively so.

Ninety percent of the work I do, building furniture, outdoor structures and household projects, I use the 18V. (There is now a 24V available -- I haven't felt the need for a more powerful drill and have not found myself hankering for bigger-better-more. The 24V is heavier and perhaps better for professional construction situations. For my uses, the 18V is practically perfect in every way. )

A drill is the core tool of home-use power tools. It can be used to drill pilot holes to make furniture assembly easier, to install wall mollies for hanging large pictures and shelves. It can also drill holes for bird houses, dowel rods or even in china. It can be used as a screw gun, to drive screws into decks, roofing materials or subfloors. It can run a drum sander. Of all the power tools I use, the drill was my first power tool and the one I use most frequently.

Let's look at the range of bits and what they do:

a) Drills range in size from teeny-tiny to GREAT BIG -- the only limit is the size of the drill insert. Notice the shaft of the larger bit is stepped down. Size matters.

b) Types of bits differ based on the type of work they are expected to do. The gold-toned bit is Titanium which is extremely hard -- it holds a sharp edge and is less likely to break. (Of the smaller bits I am endlessly breaking them, no matter what they are made of.) Because they hold a sharp edge so well, titanium shows a difference in quality when drilling through fine hardwoods or even soft woods -- they will be less tear out and shredding. The black bit is high speed steel, not so strong as titanium, but for average occassional use it does everything you will need it to do, which is drill a hole. The silver one is an average cheap steel bit which is fine for occasional use.

c) Paddle bits or Spade bits -- these drill larger holes that we use to run eletric wires through studs or to drill a hole for a bird house. Spade bits range in size from 1/3 of an inch to 2 inches. These can also be used to make a hole for a dowel rod that we would use as a pot rack or a towel bar, curtain rod -- lots of household uses

d) Forstner bits drill a perfectly flat bottomed hole. Let's say you are making a paper towel stand -- the kind that holds the roll of paper towels on end. The dowel needs to be inserted into a wooded base in such a way that the dowel is flush inside the connection. A regular bit will make a tapered hole, which won't provide the depth or adhesion needed. A forstener bit will drill to the required depth with a perfectly flat hole providing perfect adhesion for the dowel.

Next time... MORE FUN WITH DRILLS

Sweet Little Rose o'Mine

2007-05-26T23:03:00.000-04:00

It occurs to me that I learned about growing roses exactly the way I learn most things -- I fell face forward into them and got stuck a few times. *sigh* Sometimes things just don't come easily... junior high, boys, high heels, mothers-in-law... Roses fall into that category -- things that might be nice, once you wend your way through the tricky bits.

I'd always heard roses are hard to grow -- that there are powders and feeding schedules. I'd heard there is a precise and singular pruning method. I'd heard about aphids and powdery mildew and ... and... oh, the New Dawn Roses are divine... but what sold me was not their delicate pink color, although it is lovely. And it wasn't the tightly packed come-hither blossoms, which beckon me nearer and nearer. "Come closer," they say. "Aren't we lovely -- aren't we a thing out of a faerie tale? Don't you think we are perfect?"

No, not the color, nor the shape, which is nicer than nice... what it was was ...the scent... the scent of a New Dawn Rose is as delicate as a whisper. As I pass by it makes me turn my head, an aromatic double-take, did I smell that? Am I sure? Another whiff.... ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

And so, despite the thorns and the scary care tactics and a frightful article on pruning... I followed my nose, bought this rose anyway and ... and... it grew. And blossomed. It cascades over a fence and looks like something Alice might encounter in Wonderland... it smells like the blush of First Love ... I have never fed, pruned or powdered it (unless you count my tossing an over-ripe banana at it's feet as feeding) and it reminds me that even when I am scared... Do It Anyway -- the worst that can happen is Something Wonderful! Good advice, coming from a Rose. Go out and do something scary.

It's All About the Clothes

2007-05-23T08:04:00.000-04:00

There are baby clothes and there are Baby Clothes... and I like to think every woman alive knows the difference. If the baby is merely generic -- the brand new baby of your boss's assistant's sister and you've somehow been squeezed onto the Baby Shower Guest List then what you do is drop by a store, any store, on the way to the shower and pick up something. You hope the same store sells those handy gift bags. Had you thought about it, which you didn't, you'd have dug a bag out of the back of a closet.

But if the baby is SPECIAL -- the long awaited infant of your best friend, dearest neighbor or a close co-worker who has saved your bacon a time or two -- then you do one of two things... you go to the best store in town select the most exquisite scrumptious enchanting baby outfit you have ever seen in your entire life, take out a loan and buy it. Or you sew.

I'm not sure sewing for baby holds it's own against a mortgaged romper from Too Suite Enfant Emporium... but it should. Because when I sew for baby, it is a Big Freakin' Deal. There is the selecting of the pattern, the Deciding on Fabric... fabric alone is an event for which I'd like to see gold medal standards. The fabric can not be too tough or too delicate. It can not be infused with fire retardant, spit-up deterrent chemicals. Unless the baby is already here and you know the gender, then the color must be sufficiently androgynous. Next you cut out all the impossibly tiny pieces -- those people who sew doll clothes, Barbie clothes, are clearly deranged. And never mind the pieces being so small -- there are all the sewing notions -- zippers, buttons, snaps... all or any of which are tiny and fiddly and you need to think through this part because that mortgaged gown will start looking really good when you are fussing with a half inch button hole. Yes, yes, there is velcro which is mightily handy and too bad the hook part of this brilliant invention is too scratchy to risk stitching into a baby gown.

This is the one and only time in your life when you will sew French seams. And no matter how careful you are, if you are very lucky, at minimum a half inch of one seam will hang out and there you will have to decide whether to rip it out and begin again or keep right on stitchin' with hope the mother will never notice... hmmmmm.

Sometimes I sew baby clothes because there are things you just can't buy any more. They don't sell kimonos or sacks like they used to and for a brand new baby fresh from a bath and ready for a late snack followed by a diaper change, there's nothing easier on and off and back on again than a kimono. But usually when I sew baby clothes it is the Show Off variety. The clothes with pin tucks and ruching and cut work and embellishments I can't pronounce and have to focus through crossed eyes to actually do.

But when the baby is Special, (not "this will get me a raise" special -- but Dear to My Heart Special, "I will Watch You and Protect You" Special... ) it makes me feel a little special too, to pull out the stops, knowing that I can, knowing that I will.... I like to think also that somewhere in the brain of the child who wears a home sewn gown there is a seed of awareness... something in his head absorbs the fact, Mm, "French seams... nice." And there it is -- THAT's the difference.

The Children's Garden cont'd

2007-05-20T20:56:00.000-04:00

I can not call this project the Wretched Wreck of a Deck anymore ... all the wretched decking is gone. In fact some of the floor joists were reused to build an arbor... more on that later, though I will say I am astounded anything from the deck was salvagable.

Any good project begins with a proper foundation. The foundation of this garden is the ivy esplanade at the back wall. I've built a harlequin patterned trellis wall. It doesn't extend entirely to the left corner as that area is where the gingerbread house goes.

Because I really hate spending large dollars on a simple nothing sort of project, instead of buying precut lattice strips, I ripped a 2"x3" into half inch strips. There are three 2"x3"s here -- at $1.47 each. Wild and crazy girl that I am, that trellis cost $4.41 plus tax. Total. Had I purchsed real lattice strips the cost would have been $57.60. (Because time equals money, it's worth noting that I cut all the lattice strips in 20 minutes. It would have taken longer than that to drive to Home Depot or Lowe's and back.)

Moving on.

The lattice has been painted, the soil just below the trellis has been ammended and ivy has been planted:

Grow Ivy, grow.

Wee little steps -- the next step is to add a load of soil -- the ground is really a hard, trampled, irregular mess back there. It might be solved with a rototiller -- but I don't have one. For the cost of renting a rototiller I can buy a load of dirt, which I need in other areas anyway

Now, back to the salvaged floor joists of the Wretched Deck Rip Out. An arbor has been built on the other side of the workshop. It has four salvaged posts and five salvaged windows. I've had this project in mind since I bought this house. I didn't know quite where the arbor would go, but I knew what it would look like:

I placed it here, to the left of the garage workshop, to visually balance the Children's Garden, situated in the space to the right of the garage workshop.

There is still so much work to be done. There is a pond to dig, a gingerbread house to build, a sandbox to install, plants to move in.... and this guy is awfully eager to move in and find a home in the new Children's Garden:

Meanwhile ... he'll just reach down there and snag a carrot or two to snack on.

Behold, the Carrot

2007-05-17T21:38:00.000-04:00

I am of two minds regarding healthy food -- on the one hand I think it's a fine idea to eat right. Healthy food, healthy brains, healthy body. What could be better than that? On the other hand -- the hand I use to grab cream cheese and curly fries and potato skins and gravy and.... cookies and those wee lemon squares with sugar on top... my dreams are not made of broccoli bunches or aspargus spears. I am not a fan of vegetables.

And yet, I am devoted to being healthy, trying to be healthy, taking the right foods into my body, which makes the effort such an, well, an effort.

And so, like tending an errant child, what I have done over the years is every trick in the book. I know every sauce there is to disguise broccoli, every distraction imaginable to get the peas from the plate to my lips... I know every possible place to hide a carrot. Here are my Top Ten Favorite places to hide a carrot :

10. Pureed and swirled into sweet potatoes (which are scrumptious and therefore not a vegetable.)

9. Chopped into little bitty pieces and blended into meat loaf.

8. Layered with mashed potatoes (and cheese and bacon and sour cream -- ah nuts, now we've missed the Healthy Point), ok, lose the cheese, bacon and sour cream -- top with a smidge of high-flavor low-fat gravy.

7. Shredded and added to a sandwich -- a peanutbutter, honey and carrot on wholewheat is very nearly decadent... very nearly. It's no deep fried Snickers, but so little is.

6. Sliced, blanched and featured on a fruit-veggie-cheese platter, with a low-fat dip.

5. Pureed and blended with chicken broth, plain yogurt and flour to make a delicious Good God Good For You low-fat gravy.

4. Julienne sliced, very thin, and used in place of a cracker for snacks like salsa, chicken salad, even egg salad.

3. Blanched till just tender and added to fruit kabobs, drizzled with honey

2. Sliced into sticks and rolled with flavored cheeses and cold cuts.

1. The number 1 way to hide a carrot -- finely shredded and added to pancake batter. Add some nuts, some spices -- next thing you know you have spiced carrot pancakes. Yum.

And so there we are -- Fooled, Foolish, but Healthy-er. What tricks do you pull to fool yourself?

Another Pretty Thing

2007-05-16T08:33:00.000-04:00

I am one of those people who just can't help themselves -- I walk around the planet redesigning it or taking in designs and color combinations that work and wanting to carry them from here to there. Carpet designs, rock formations, colors on this house or that dress. And lately I have dared get my hands on things I did not previously consider my purview, a sort of coloring outside the lines in real life. You know what happens -- as soon as those lines are blurred, nothing is out of bounds. Furniture gets painted crazy colors and dresses get cut in funny shapes.

And so, when Teresa, at Aunt Ts Paper Arts, had a giveaway of these plastic $1.00 pencil boxes up for grabs I was game in a heart beat. I think she had five of them to give away and I was one of the lucky recipients. The proviso was that the pencil box had to be altered and photographed. All righty.

The purple is textured card stock and the green is torn paper.

The plastic flap is clear-ish with a color copied butterfly under it that shows through pretty well -- better than it does here in Blogger Photo Haze. All the butterflies are color copies from old encyclopedias and science books. Also, the plastic flap has been scallop-trimmed, edged with copper foil and hole punched for brass wire and beads.

The snap is covered with a crocheted flower -- I tied a silk ribbon in the center for a shot of color. The tassel is made of embroidery floss (I have a ton of embroidery floss and not even a spare ounce of patience to spend embroidering) and it is attached to the side with an eyelet.

My favorite aspect of this little pencil box is the little girl standing there. She is my grandmother and I have reduced apostcard sized rose to fit into her hand. She needed it. I love this photo of my grandma -- it is one of two that I use quite a lot. In this one she is about six and has an intelligent face. It is a face that says, "I have better things to do -- are we done yet?" I have an image that a minute after this picture was taken they turned her loose and she darted away as fast as her legs could carry her.... dress tails flying, hair bow falling and abandoned. I think that is my motto for the day... maybe for the week, TURN ME LOOSE.

(If I get an extra minute or so today I'll take some closer shots.)

The Wretched Wreck of a Deck Project -- The Planning Phase

2007-05-14T21:41:00.000-04:00

I had a good deal of trouble from the start envisioning what should go here. I thought this was because the wretched deck was in the way, crowding my vision...

... then the deck was peeled away, pitched aside, still nothing came to mind... A fire pit? A dance pavillion? A Suite at the Plaza? What?
And then... and then... a Gingerbread House! Truly. And a sandbox. And a pond... a Children's Garden.

A little thatched cottage (with a dutch door) at the back left, a bird bath, a raspberry bush to the right ... There in the center is a table and a couple of chairs -- a nice place for a snack or lunch or to pot up new plants. For the pond, I have been eyeing Ms. GreenThumb Jean's Tea Kettle Fountain... I have a pump that has been awaiting a place... and I think dishes will be a splendid addition.

On the back wall I have a harlequin of green -- that's an esplanade of ivy. I did get the structure for that set. It's twine now... but I am thinking what I need is something more substantial, something like affixed lath.

The little drawing gives me a direction, a notion of what goes where. Part of the plan has included watching the sun -- seeing how much of it shines where and at what time of day. The little house is placed where the sun shines the longest -- so even then it's shaded. And I thought it would be a muddy mess till the end of time.

Is It a Baby Yet?

2007-05-13T00:36:00.000-04:00

From the minute my son and daughter-in-law announced the impossible, or rather the unexpected, that they are expecting, I have been impatient for this baby. Frankly they told me too too soon. She wasn't even showing yet... so I have waited all this time... alllllllll thiiiiiiiiiiiisssssss tiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeee. Apparently they don't know, seemingly they are unaware... I am Baby Crazy. I LoVe babies. I LoVe little kids. I even like teenagers.

When my baby was on his way I became Mommy Mame over night. I repurposed furniture, stitched bibs and gowns and blankies. Great, GREAT with child, I laid carpet. I was in nesting overdrive. Once he was here I sang songs, recited poetry, told silly riddles, read stories. There were Halloween costumes, books, balls, bubbles, crayons, paper, scissors, glue. I set up a sand box in our apartment. Are you getting the picture? I'm a warm fuzzy fun mommy about to become a warm fuzzy fun Nana. I thought my own nesting days were done, but last week I built the changing table (refashioned really) -- this week I stitched and dressed this: The wicker is ancient but very sturdy. The fabrics are all new -- the minute I saw this silk plaid I knew instantly that this was the piece I wanted for the bassinet. The rest of the fabrics and trims, the taffeta, chenille, the denim, and lace, were all from my stash. (I have a sinful stash.)

So now all we need is a baby... to love and snuggle and squeeze to pieces. Even this Teddy Bear looks impatient, don't you think? There are five weeks to go... what to build, make, reconfigure next? A Merry-Go-Round? A Gingerbread House? Suggestions anyone?

I'm Not 25 Anymore...

2007-05-10T19:52:00.000-04:00

Perhaps it is obvious I am not 25 any more. Admittedly, there are telltale signs I am not 25 any more... crepe papery eyes, slightly saggy jowls (ever so slightly), a preference for comfy shoes (so long as they are cute) over slick hot high heel shoes, no matter how cute. But if I suck in my belly, lose my cheater readers and wear an outfit that gives the illusion of both a waistline and a bust, from a distance, in the right light, I do look 25.

Not that I want to BE 25, mind you... I would NOT ever again want to BE 25. Being 25 was hard -- I didn't know who I was , where I should go, or what to do. Actually I did -- at 25 I did know who I was (at 5 I knew who I was) -- I just didn't feel confident that it was all right to let her out.

At 25 I was more strong than brave, but I was working on it... at 25 I was a mother and trying pick a path through the maze of un-doing my life as a wife. To stay, to leave... if I left I knew for sure that the person to do the hauling and heavy lifting of my bags and belongings would be me. Fine. I was strong. A tough girl. A capable girl. And so I did. I carried my bags and my boy, I carried my books in a heavy bookbag through four years of college and it sure never occured to me that cutting my own weeds would pose even a question, much less a problem... when I was 25.

But now... now that I am not 25, now that the boy is well grown, the bags are permanently parked, I can easily forget that I am not 25... Time marched on when I wasn't looking, I wasn't aware... till I wield this weed eater for 15 minutes or so and for the rest of the day my arms ache. AChe. Aaaaaaaaack. I am SO NOT 25.

Pretty Little Poppy Pins All in a Row

2007-05-09T07:29:00.000-04:00

It seems it will be ages and ages till my own little corner garden is in bloom... so I felt the urge to make my own little ribbon garden -- Pretty-Pretty-Poppy-Pins-All-In-a-Row:

It's hard to say which one I like best... the pinky-peachy-coral one? The Yellow? The Purple?

A very wise friend once said... "Good Luck... we make our own you know." I didn't then know what he meant, but more and more I think I get it now. I have to put my thinking cap on, figure out what I want, know that I am smart enough, hard-working enough to make it so. And then make it so. Step by step... just like making these pretty-pretty-poppy-pins. So I am off to the work shop to make some more of my own luck. What about you? What sort of luck are you making for yourself today?

The Wretched Wreck of a Deck Project, cont'd

2007-05-08T12:20:00.000-04:00

This should have been in yesterday, which turned out to be such a busy day I am amazed I managed to squeeze in lunch let alone pictures. Here is what I have accomplished in the wretched wreck of a deck area:

It doesn't look like much... till you peek at the BEFORE.

That was a lot of hauling and piling. I may have arbor plans for those big 4x4's -- once a hundred or so nails are yanked out of them. There's a lot of work to do before then -- stay tuned.

Meanwhile, feel free to pat me on the back for all the hard work I've done so far... my muscles ache from moving all those timbers and brush and possum bones, yes, possum bones. So go ahead and tell me, "Atta Girl - Nice Job!"

Inexplicable

2007-05-07T23:13:00.000-04:00

Here's the whole story as to why my then boyfriend's objections were so inappropriate at the restaurant when I first mentioned to him this changing table project.... Oh, where does one begin?

OK, you know those people whose first response to anything, ANYTHING, is "OMG, what an impossible idea! It simply can not be done!" So there we were in a nice Italian restaurant, a little salad, a little wine, flitting from topic to topic, here comes the chicken marsala, a little more bread would be great.... I mention that I want to make a changing table, out of those drawers Adrian has.

You would have thought I had suggested tearing the roof off my own house after dinner. Or hiring myself out to be a stripper... no, that, at least, would have entirely shut his mouth. The point is, his response was ... well, strange. "A changing table -- what are you thinking, making a changing table? How is THAT going to work?" The then boyfriend began to explain not only how impossible this project would be, but as soon as he realized how ridiculous he sounded, rather than backing down and exploring the possibilities, he cranked the objections up a notch. In graphic detail. "OMG, do you know what babies do?" Considering mine is ten years older than his... yeah, I had a clue. But he had to be sure -- he had to make certain everyone knew -- everyone within the six tables surrounding us soon knew what babies do. "They POOP. And they PEE!!!"

He got all worked up, almost panic-stricken, at the notion of my taking a set of nothing drawers and re-purposing them into a changing table. I will bet there are people who were dining near us that night still shaking their heads over this overheard dinner conversation.

So, there we are, the whole story of how discussing this project in a restaurant was such a bad idea. Canoli, anyone?