Yellow Daisies and Flea Market Finds

I love daisies.  They are such a very comfortable flower.  They can be stuffed in a broken crock or Mason jar and look quite at home.  They demand neither a fancy home nor artful arranging.

(vintage iron garden art from Shinola)

They look cheerful and accepting, never snooty or bored.

And when other more sophisticated flowers have begun to shed their regal beauty, the commonplace daisy is still smugly fresh and youthful.

Those same adjectives can be applied to flea market finds . . . comfortable, cheerful accepting, fresh.

(small silver pitcher from Pickens Flea Market)

When a little silver pitcher is already colored with the patina of irreversible tarnish or a milk crate is rough, worn  and its handle split, it lets me know I don't have to sit taller or keep my legs crossed at the ankles when it comes in to my home.

(vintage milk crate with original pint milk bottles from Barnyard Flea Market)

So, what better than to combine a big bunch of laid back daisies with several new comfortable flea market finds?

Ah, dreamy!

(passed down from My Mom)

And I think these little chippy, place-card-holding children from Germany, grasping their own imperfect but cheerful and unassuming flowers would agree.

Newest Crush

shoponline2011

If there's anybody that's going to come to the party a day late and a dollar short, it's going to be me.

Which is why, of course, I am just now discovering the simple beauty of "baker's twine."  Absolutely charming, in the understated way that brown kraft paper or newspaper is a simple, charming wrapping paper.

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Of course, once I finally began to notice this twine and find out its official "name," I see that it is everywhere. Shoot, I probably got a gift decorated with it last year and never batted an eye.

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See what I mean . . . classic, simple, slightly rustic.  I love it!  Just love it!

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Today, the sweetness of this unpretentious baker's twine is making me smile.

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Now, here's hoping that I can find some. Because I really must have some for my neighbor gifts!!

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Porch Redo - The Completion

And so, the Porch Redo is done.  I promised myself I would.not.post.anything.else.until.it.was.done!  And it is.  Here are some before and afters of The Porch Redo/Hubby Birthday Present.

Before - Claustrophia:

After - Freedom:

Before - Is there a porch in there?

After - Ah, yes, there is!

Besides painting the concrete and knocking out the railing, we patched and painted the posts and added new numbers:

The tired-out 1990s floral cushions got traded out for new, snappy stripes:

Pathetically scraped and abused wood was mended and painted:

I found an adorable little table clearanced at Hobby Lobby.  Just right for setting on a book or a glass of iced tea.  (If I knew how to make iced tea!)

A pair of tired out and faded planters got a fresh coat of paint, a coat of antiquing glaze and filled with plants.

So . . . did I have it all done by the time the Man of the House and Oldest Son arrived home from the basketball tournament on Saturday afternoon??  Ha!!  Of course not.

But the big stuff was done . . . the removal of the bars, the painting of the floor, the patching and painting of the posts, the trimming of the bushes.  And, best of all, when they got home, I was sweating and wrestling and trimming away with the manual trimmers (couldn't find the electric!), looking for all the world like an amazingly hard-working wife, completely dedicated to the delightful birthday surprise which I was attempting.

I think he likes it.

  The Man of the House is a little . . . shall we say . . . less than verbally exuberant.  In other words, reserved . . . calm . . . matter of fact.  But I think he felt celebrated.

Now, if I could just get that reserved, calm and matter of fact other half of my Marriage Contract to get to the rest of the bushes!

Porch Redo - Part II

. . . continued:

The Head Paint Counter Man looked serious.
"Angie tells me you want to paint "Tan" over "Weathered Oak"!
It was an accusation.
"I need to let you know that it won't work."
The panic hanging "around the edges" for the past hour fully invaded my stomach.
"But Angie Assistant told me when I ordered this 5 minutes ago that it would work!"
"Well, yeah, maybe if you had applied the second coat within 30 minutes.  But it's been, what, 5 hours now?!"
He rubbed his auburn buzz cut fiercely.  How had I ended up at the Principal's Office?
"So, now you're telling me that since I didn't do the second coat within 30 minutes, I can't put on a second coat at all, not even of the same color?"
I'm not a rabid directions reader, but I surely think I would have noticed that in my quick back-of-the-can scan.
"That's right!  This is called a sealant, ma'am."
He didn't even try to smile.  He'd seen too many stupid DIYers in one day.  Why didn't they just hire a professional in the first place?
"But I don't have full coverage even after one coat!  Even if it wasn't the wrong color it looks awful without a second coat."
Shouldn't there be some large red sign on the can, warning you that you have only 30 minutes between coats, so don't bother catching the phone, using the toilet, or rehydrating with a glass of ice water, or your "window" is shot?
"Let me call my distributor."
Hope!
He returned.
"Nope, I'm sorry.  There's nothing you can do now!"
Non-matching, unevenly absorbed, poorly applied sealant-covered porch.  Happy Birthday, Dear.  And, yes, you're right, I did forget to run the sledge-hammering of the rail by you.
I was desperate.  There had to be a fix.
"So, you're telling me I can't sand this off?"
"No."
"Use Kilz over it?"
"No."
"Expose it to nuclear radiation?"
"No.  Probably the best thing to do is let it wear away."
Uh-huh.  This is my front porch.  No sun, shielded from rain.  We're looking at 25 years of slow wearing away.
"Of course you could use muratic acid."
Hope?
"But we all know that pretty much just eats the cement away."
Aha.  I furrowed my brow knowledgeably and nodded.  Oh, yeah, sure wouldn't want to trust that muratic acid.
"Well, since we've already mixed it, you'll need to pay for it.  Registers are up front.  Have a good day.
I could feel the tears collecting in my throat.
Stupid porch redo.  Stupid impenetrable sealant.  Stupid birthday present.
"Oh," the Paint Counter Guy flagged me down.  "You could always call the 800 number on the side of the can."
Pay.  Run out to car.  Flip open cell phone.  Punch in 1-800-HELPME.
A low, gravelly voice answered bruskly.
"Quikcrete hot line.  This is Anne."
"Oh, Anne {voice cracking}, I've painted my front porch and I hate the color and I want to cover it with a deeper color, and the Paint Counter Guy says I can't put on a second coat even of the original color because it's a sealant and it's already sealed.  And it looks awful."
"Well, now, let's see."
Sounds of clicking and scrolling.
"Okay, it says, 'Apply 1st coat, wait 24 hours, and apply 2nd coat.'"
"But the Paint Counter Guy said after 30 minutes you couldn't put anything else over it.  It's a sealant."
I wanted full disclosure here.  All facts known.
{Low chuckle.}  "Just shows how much he knows.  'Course you can't put anything ELSE on over it, but you can paint the SAME product on over it." 
The gravelly voice was patient and protective . . . like a kindly, indulgent parent with an overwrought, foolish child.  Yeah, that's exactly what it was like.

"And I can use a color several shades deeper?"

"Absolutely, honey."

She couldn't see it, but my arms were wrapped tightly around her neck and my head was buried in her ample bosom.  (Aren't most sources of comfort endowed with "ample bosoms" in books??)

"Oh, Anne, you have made my day."

Another chuckle.  Maybe I made hers too.

And so, the next morning Youngest Son rolled on "Tan."  And it was like caramel.  It went with the grout, the rock, the brick.  It was perfect.  Like rolling on some delicious ice cream topping.  I think Anne would have liked it.
Still to go . . . trim bushes, paint pillars, put up new numbers, sew new cushions, paint scraped-up rockers.  One day left.  Victory in sight.
"After" pics are coming!

Porch Redo - Part I

In my typical "why-plan-ahead-when-you-can-stress-yourself-out-by-doing-things-out-at-the-last-minute" manner, I decided on Thursday to do a porch redo.

And not just any porch redo. But a porch redo for the 50th birthday of the Man of the House.

Now, you might be asking, "Did the Man of the House really want a porch redo for his 50th birthday??"

And to that I would say, "Well . . . uh . . . I don't know." Actually, I haven't been able for 20 years to figure out what to get the man who doesn't want anything. I do know he loves updates on the house. And so it's either another golf shirt or a porch redo.

I chose the porch redo. And I informed all the kids that they were going to be joining me in this porch redo . . . as a present to Dad.

"Mommmmmmmmmmmmm!"

"Hey, do you have something else purchased??"

(Silence)

"Oh, good. So glad you'll be joining me for the porch redo!"

So here's the "Before."

Horrid stained concrete. Claustrophobic narrowness. Ugly rocker cushions.

View from a rocker seat. (Ack!! I'm in jail!!)

And whose job is it to trim these bushes?? I'll have to check the Marriage Contract.

Now, it just so happens that Thursday morning The Man of the House and Oldest Son left for a basketball tournament. Ah, perfect timing. If I rally the troops, all will be done by Saturday afternoon. Birthday surprise on its way!

Here's how the first day went down:

Early Thursday Morning: Middle Son starts us off by sledgehammering out the railing.

(Hurry!)

Middle of Thursday Morning: We get busy scrubbing mildewy pillars and dirty cement.

(Hurry!)

Late Thursday Morning: I edge the cement floor in Quickcrete's "Weathered Oak" . . . a yummy mushroom color.

(Hurry!)

I feel the edges of panic beginning. I don't think I'm going to like this color. I notice that the brick is a deep caramel-y color. The grout is a light caramel-y color. Yes, the rock has some hues of taupes, but I also see golden browns gleeming all through the rock wall.

And I am painting on a color that is turning out a Light Stone Grey.

Never mind. Press ahead.

(Hurry!)

End of Thursday Morning: Youngest Son does a stellar job rolling the sealant on.

(Hurry!)

Thursday Noon: I feel sick to my stomach. I hate this color. When I look out the front door, it looks like the house is floating in a gray storm cloud. Or maybe it looks like a brick-trimmed marshmallow deck . . . made of gray marshmallows.

(Do not be fooled by this picture into thinking the paint looks okay.
Oh, no. It was a terrible mismatch.)

May I insert here that my Paint ADD is becoming a bit of a trend. I am beginning to accept that in order to get an acceptable paint color, I must first select, purchase and apply the most wrong-est color in the world. And then, and only then, will I be able to pick just the right color.

This is why I am not an interior decorator. (There are many reasons.) Because in order to decorate your living room, I would first have to design it in Asian Modern before I figured out that you wanted French Country all along. And at that point you would be trying to sand the red lacquer off the walls.

Early Thursday Afternoon: Morning well nigh wasted. Husband home in two days. He will not like seeing the house floating in a gray storm cloud. This will not be a cheerful birthday surprise.

I dash back to Lowe's, desperate to rectify this problem. Let's go with a caramel-y tan instead.

(Hurry! Hurry!)

Mr. Paint Guy shakes his head ominously. We have a problem.

To be continued . . .

Wherein I Come To Peace With Split Pea Soup

(An apology in advance for the poor quality of pictures.

There was not one scrap of natural light anywhere in sight!)

Do you remember my guest bathroom walls? The burning red, the lime granita, and finally the split pea soup?

No, of course you don't. You've been busy living your own life. I know. I know.

But I just thought since I left you hanging on the cliff like I did, that I would tell you that the split pea soup walls turned out just lovely once they were all painted. And here are a few "tah-dah!" pictures to show you the final outcome.






The room was inspired by these fabulous photos that I won in a blog giveaway on Rare and Beautiful Treasures. The photos are from the Etsy Shop of Craft Therapea. Aren't they fabulous.

I thought it would be easy to find an 8 x 8 frame in which to put them. Not so. Since I didn't want to pay for custom framing, I did find 12 x 12 frames that are meant to frame scrapbook pages. I found beautiful sheets of 12 x 12 scrapbook paper that look like an old hand-written letter and laid the 8 x 8 pictures on the paper and then in the frame. I love the look.

All the brushed nickel holders, hooks, bars, knobs, and fixtures were sanded primed and painted with Krylon's Oil Rubbed Bronze spray paint. You can't tell from the pictures, but instead of it being a flat black, it has a golden shimmer to it . . . really beautiful.

The mirror is an antique mirror passed on to me by my mom and dad. It also got the Oil Rubbed Bronze treatment.

Under your feet is a wooden floor mat with a black fabric binding.

And to finish off, I found these shore-themed nic nacs either in the house or at Hobby Lobby or TJ Maxx. Love the serene feeling of the shells.

Love how this turned out. Love how Oldest Daughter stuck with me and repainted . . . twice. Love how I won the giveaway that inspired it all.

Just loving this rarest of moments when everything comes together just like I hoped it would!

Summer Plans

I've got plans for my summer.

Oooh, yes, big, big plans!

Exactly one year ago I took on an administrative assistant position for our kids' sports program. That's 4 sports, 11 teams, 10 months of the year.

My house has . . . ahem . . . suffered. It has been neglected, overlooked, disregarded.

At Easter, I asked my husband, mom, dad, and brother to help me hide eggs all over the house for the kids. I was mortified . . . MORTIFIED . . . at the dust and other dirt . . . lurking.

So this summer, I've divided the house into as many areas as there are weeks of the summer and we're doing spring cleaning all summer long.

This week was Oldest Son's room.

There were memories and laughs around every corner. Oldest Son purged bins, buckets, and boxes; Oldest Daughter patched holes and touched up paint; I shampooed and scrubbed. The other kids peeked in to view progress and then scuttled away quickly . . . unwilling to be sucked into the vortex of cleaning action.

Ah, these bins. Empty now. In the garage waiting for a yard sale.

I remember when there was a bin for rock collections, one for GI Joes, one for springs from our old trampoline, one for plastic lizards and dinosaurs and snakes, one for Matchbox cars.

Oldest Son found his harmonica . . . buried for years. And he sat on the end of the bed and played it. Yes, all three notes.

"Let me take your picture playing your harmonica, Oldest Son."

"Awwww, Mom, you have got to be kidding."

"Okay, just hold the harmonica and smile. You know, the smile that melts my heart and has gotten you repeatedly out of all kinds of trouble?"

Yeah, that one.

Do you think there are any kinds of awards for moms who give up their dreams of a surf-themed room, an adventure-out-of-doors-themed room, a madras-plaid-themed room and instead are talked into painting a room purple and orange with a large Clemson University paw on one wall?

Do you think they give out awards for those moms?

I think they should.

Ah, summer plans. One section of the house down . . . 12 to go!

The Chandelier

I love to add a little greenery to the "chandelier" over the dining room table. ("Chandelier" being quite the overstatement of the year!)

This year I got an inspiration from "The Nester."

You have met The Nester; haven't you? Oooh, if you haven't, you really should! Her mantra is, "It doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful."It is definitely a site to check out! She posts every day and is always refreshing and inspiring.

So, anyway, back to my inspiration. Here is what she calls her "Ragamuffin Garland." I just love all that delightful tumble of fabrics one over the other.

(Photo used with permission.)

I decided to use just a touch of this on my "chandelier."

I had some really beautiful large checked silk that was left over from my dining room curtains, so I ripped some of it up into strips 15 1/2 " x 2" (the leftovers, that is, not the curtains!).

The greenery I used on the chandelier is a little more realistic than the norm . . . with some pieces that look like pine and pinecones sprinkled here and there. So, the garland of greenery was laid on the fixture, and I started tying on my "strips." Which, after tying on looked like this.

Now, here's the treasure. A box of Shiny Brite vintage balls from my grandmother, probably from the 50's. Look at how perfectly she kept things. The box isn't even bent. It scares me that this box even came in my door!

To finish off the chandelier "decor," I hung these vintage balls from gold oranza ribbon.

I just love it!

Now, this really gives me some tingly Christmas joy when I walk in the front door!