A Silk Purse From a Sow's Ear

This year I have a personal goal to use up materials I have stored for too long.

Even the good stuff.

Case in point-- the Swiss Colony bags saved from a gift of food.

There is nothing really special about them--they are just too interesting to throw out.

I almost threw them out three times, but each time, hesitated.

So then I gave myself a mental shake and finally decided now was the time to do something about those silly bags.

I left one unadorned so you could see the dramatic transformation.

The metal sewing machine is some of my good stuff.

By K&Company.

I've had it for at least 6 years!

Saving it for something really special.

By the way, I opened up the bag's seam so I could easily stitch the lacy bits down 

with my sewing machine.  Only the buttons were attached by hand.

I might give this pretty bag to my mother-in-law, filled with chocolate, for Valentine's Day.

She loves old stuff --and sewing.

And chocolate!

*******

Now go make something.

And use your good stuff!

I'm off to work on my second sow's ear...

-Postscript-

My mother-in-law LOVED the bag.

The sewing machine embellishment really spoke to her.

Made me feel good about partiing with "the good stuff".

*******

Spring Cleaning

 

Believe it or not, these are plastic sweet peas.
Aren't they lovely?
Surprisingly realistic looking too.

These adorned the crown of a wide brimmed, plastic straw hat that I am freshening up in preparation for selling in my etsy shop.

The flowers got an amonia and warm water bath and once dry,

I'll be sewing them (not hot glue!) back on the way I found them.

The jaunty head gear will be available to purchase soon for your Easter Parade and summer activities.
 

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Speaking of that egg holiday, I just listed a pair of reproduction (but now vintage),

 

egg cups.

I grew up eating soft boiled eggs for breakfast with toast fingers for dipping.

Did you?

A Personal Odessey

It is blustery cold and snowy outside and I have no pressing need to leave the house.

So I steel myself to go out on the back porch and open yet another box from our recent move.

I have told myself that I don't know where I'm going to put the contents, but that avoidance tactic is wearing thin.

It all has to go somewhere, and my husband has begun to suggest

that it should all go out for the trashmen to pick up.

"No, I will deal with it!",

I say in a pack ratter's panicked voice.

So here I am.

*************************

I choose a mostly empty, black trash bag, thinking,

"It doesn't have much, so this shouldn't take long."

Yeah, right!

I pull out some of Rebbecca's clothing, a brocade jacket of mine, and a t-shirt for Seth.

Things thrown into the bag last minute as we were giving our former house the once-over.

Why do I let this stuff sit?

So I hang up the jacket in my bedroom's closet and take the rest up to the kids' rooms.

After I put away Rebecca's clothing, I spy a small plastic bag thrown into a corner of her room, forgotten since our move.

Since I am in an organizing mood, I open it.

Miscellaneous bed linens (what?!) and hand-me-down clothing for Rebecca.

I put away the clothing that will fit her and put the rest back into the bag,

mentally labeling it "thrift store".

While in her room, I also empty a small suitcase and "treasure chest" ;

the former full of still more clothing and the latter full of debris and missplaced Legos (aaarrGgggh!)

The Legos are reunited with their friends, the debris is thrown out (like it should have been to begin with!), the suitcase has dress-up clothing put into it (formerly strewn about on the floor) and both pieces of luggage are stowed into the closet, hopefully far enough back where Rebecca won't discover them immediately.

I don't want to have to repeat this process again too soon.

In this process of tidying up, I find a pair of sweat pants with a hole in the seat and a pair of tattered and stained shorts.  They will become rags.

My studio is next door to the kids' rooms so I can get my hands on a pair of scissors quickly, without the risk of distraction, which a search in another part of the house would surely have brought!

The rags made, I go into the bathroom (also upstairs) to put them away under the sink, but not before I spy the smeary vanity mirror and spattered sink.

Well, no time like the persent to use one of these rags!

I end up cleaning not only the mirror and sink, but also the toilet and around the shower where hair, dust and whatnot collects. (ick!)

It took two of my rags, but I have the satisfaction of knowing that I recycled some old clothing instead of throwing away several paper towels in the process.

 

And so reads my Personal Odessey as a Stay-At-Home-Mom.

It's no wonder I avoid opening the boxes and bags on the back porch!

 

But after a quick lunch, I go back to find another box-- this time with what I know to be creative stuff.

Spools of thread, embroidery hoops, cards of buttons, and sewing machine bobbins are already stowed away in a large, glass candy jar.

It can't be all work!

Some assemblage ideas are swirling in my head, but I have to be disciplined and finish emptying the box.  The kids will be home from school any minute and then I will have small hands

 grabbing and asking,

"What's this?"

"Can I see?"

***********************

 

Have you had an adventure today?

 



Blooms as Promised

 

Last week you got a peek of a Christmas cactus in my studio, with tiny buds.

I am blessed with a plant that blooms twice a year; especially blessed because I neglect it.

 

 

I rarely water it, have not fed it in over a year and it's probably root bound.

It's a survivor.

 

 

The second blooming is not as grand a display as the first time (fewer flowers),

but in the middle of January, with the temperature below freezing outside,

it's a beautiful sight nonetheless.

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I hope you have something to delight in today.

 



There's No Place Like Home (It's Tea Tuesday!)

 

Over the weekend we rearranged furniture.

After the living room got a new look, I got my studio back at the top of the second floor stairs.

Bliss!

The kids never utilized the room like my husband thought they would, as their designated Play Room,

so, the space was destined to be mine once again!

And why wasn't the space mine to begin with?

My husband hated the mess.

He doesn't understand that creativity is not a clean, sterile process.

You would think after 19 years of marriage we would be past that issue, but we aren't.

But I digress.

I regained my sanctuary and wanted to share my joy with you!
Funny thing- the kids like the space better since I moved in.
They are more likely to "hang out" in the space now.
Go figure.  It just needed my presence.

 

 

Bear in mind that I haven't created anything in the space yet, so it looks spotless.

Just give me a minute- I'll have it lived-in in no time!

Until then I am just happy to sit and "be",

enjoying the sunlight and views to the south and west through the large windows.

Grateful to have my sewing machine and art materials placed where I can use them once again.

I am most grateful though, for the sunlight.

The room relaxes and re-energizes me like no place else on earth.

It's my slice of heaven with a cup of tea!

 

P.S. The straggly looking plant in front of the window is a large Christmas cactus full of blooms,  ready to burst out in gorgeous color.

I'll be posting photos soon.

 

For more Tea Tuesday posts, visit Magpie's Nest and Artfully Ooglebloops

 

 

 



Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

 

On the way to the dentist this past Tuesday, I stopped at a new and used furniture place called "Town's End" (because the place is located on the edge of town...) and happened to find a bar stool to replace the rickety dog-chewed ones we had.  I needed three (three kids, three stools...).  The store owner said he had more stools, just that they wouldn't be a perfect match, but the stools could be repainted.  Well, you see in my photo that two are similar in style, but the third I hesitated to take because it was so different.  I mean, it was a couple inches taller and sprayed painted gold- badly!  It could not be uglier if it had had macaroni glued to it under the paint. 

The store owners encouraged me to take the gold stool, by offering it free with the purchase of the other two. 

I caved.

Three stools for $20, even if one was atrocious, is not a deal I could pass up!

 

 

When my (three) kids came home from school,

Rebecca (8 years old) pounced on the golden stool and immediately claimed it for her own, going so far as to carve her name into the seat with a ball point pen.

Ah, love at first sight!

If we glue plastic gemstones or other ludicrous collage materials on it at some time in the future, it would only be guilding a lily.

As it stands now, the stool is already a golden throne in the eyes of a small girl.

 

So I'm wondering now if I had bought a $20 golden bar stool and actually got the other two for free...

It's all in how you look at things.

Decking the Halls of My Happy Place

 

We are all moved back into our wee house once again.

Each box I unpack and empty is a small victory.

I hate unpacking as much as I hate packing.

But somehow, in the unpacking, a whole lot of Christmas decorating is going on.

I'm compensating for the fact that it's a week before Christmas and I haven't baked a single cookie, wrapped a single gift or written a single card.

But I'm in the Christmas spirit!

 

Thank goodness for a cookie tree decorating kit

bought by thoughtful Aunt Debbie (my sister-in-law).

The kids assembled it last night.

Well, I helped with the assembly, but then stood back and let them go at it with the icing and candy.

Looks just like the sample on the box,

don't you think?

hahahahahaha

I had to keep them from eating the tree right away because it looked so yummy.

I want it to last until Christmas.

It's the perfect centerpiece for the cookie tray.

Now I have to bake cookies.

Thanks Aunt Debbie!

 

I had an epiphany this Christmas.

I always laughed at the psychology mumbo-jumbo about going to your "Happy Place", because I really thought it was bunk, but I have discovered what my Happy Place is and now go there often.

Especially lately, with so much tragedy reported daily on the news.

I don't even have to mention the latest in Connecticut.
I discovered my Happy Place by accident.
About a month ago, I was lying sleepless in bed late one night trying to think about nothing so my brain would shut down and let me rest, and then started thinking about my first visit to Santa.
This was back before shopping malls were enclosed.
Santa's Place was a rather plain trailer with a line starting outside in the cold. 
Being Michigan, it was very c-c-ccold, and I remember huddling with my mom, younger brother and little sister against the December wind as it whistled and whipped around the open mall, cutting though our thick coats and chapping our cheeks and noses.
Then, after a small eternity, one of Santa's elves opened the trailer door and ushered a few of us into his magical sanctuary.
 But, before we got to see the man himself, we had to wait still longer, slowly shuffling the length of the trailer past diaramas of skaters on a glitter sprinkled cardboard pond, past Victorians trimming a Christmas tree while their puppy pulled at the ribbon on a gift under the tree, and past other festive winter scenes involving slow moving mechanical manequins.
The line moved at a snail's pace so we stood before each scene long enough to take in every detail and even get bored with the repetitive movements of the dolls.
It was warm in this wonderland, there was music, twinkling lights and
the Anticipation of Something Exciting.
While I thought about that place in my childhood,
I relaxed, my breathing slowed down and I fell blissfully asleep;
with literally "visions of sugar plums dancing" in my head.
I am holding on to that Happy Place.
It's Scrooge-proof.
Where's your Happy place?