Stained Glass

My Mom has given me some truly memorable gifts.  She gave me was her flair for decorating, her exquisite timing in telling a story, and her highly developed sense of the ridiculous.  Last time she visited she brought this amazing piece of stained glass. 

Thanks, Mom!

Bird, Bird, Bird...a variation on Duck, Duck, Goose

For some reason, and I can't explain why, this pic struck me as very "Daisy Cottage Kim."  These aren't her colors, but when I think back to my decor about five years ago, I can see her esthetic, her influence, all over the house.

Wreath in the Cowboy Bathroom

White

White is not a mere absence of color; it is a shining and affirmative thing, as fierce as red, as definite as black. God paints in many colors; but He never paints so gorgeously, I had almost said so gaudily, as when He paints in white.  G.K. Chesterton

The Good Old Days?

Sometimes this world is so ugly that I find it difficult to live in it. This weekend is one of those times. As a result, I have the tendency to romanticize earlier times as the “good old days.” I have often expressed the wish that I had been born several generations earlier.

But were things so good in years past? Were things good in the 1960’s? Well, maybe, if you didn’t think about the assassination of our President, his brother, and Dr. King. Things were good unless it was your son or daughter who was dropping acid or addicted to heroin. Times were okay if you could overlook Russian nuclear weapons trained on our nation from Cuba, 90 miles away. Things were good unless you lived in East Germany and wanted to escape to freedom over the Wall. Things were so insecure that we were encouraged to build fall out shelters in our back yards.

Were things good in the 1950’s? Well, I suppose they were unless you were African American and wanted to vote in the South or were a woman who wanted to be a physician. Things were good unless you were an abused child or spouse and couldn’t get help. The world was shiny and bright unless you were a rape victim who was made to feel shame instead of receiving justice. Things were terrific, all backyard bbq’s and Leave it to Beaver, unless you were wounded in the Korean War. Those warriors were largely ignored when they returned home and had almost no veteran’s services.

How about the 1930’s and 1940’s? I love aprons and cookbooks from way back then.  I scout out the lamps and furniture from this period at vintage stores. However, the world was facing the rise of a maniacal dictator, a world war, and the killing of millions simply because they were God’s chosen people.  

What about the1920’s? Wellllllll, promiscuity was rampant and Prohibition was giving birth to organized crime. We had just lost millions of men in World War I. The Roaring Twenties were okay unless you were one of the poor Jewish and Italian immigrant women who perished in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory in New York City because the owners locked you in from the outside. This was a prosperous era unless you were taken advantage of by an unscrupulous Wall Street trader who encouraged investing on margin. Sound familiar?


Well maybe it was better in the romantic South where women who glowed and fanned themselves sipped iced tea on the verandah in beautiful white hoop skirts? Sure, those were the good old days unless you were among those individuals who thought it was okay with God to own other human beings…or you actually were one of those who were owned.


The “good old days” were only totally good in retrospect. We have faced violence, inhumanity, greed, prejudice, disease, immorality, fear, political infighting,hate speech, and uncertainty in every generation.


What is our only constant? God. “Rock of Ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in Thee.”


Fear not, Jesus said. For I am with you always, even unto the end of the age.

And I say, Amen...so be it.

Arizona

Jesus wept.     

John 11:35

MY KIND OF DECORATING

You know that room in your house.  C'mon, you know the one, the junk room. The room where you throw the books that you keep forgetting to take to the library sale and the clothes you meant to take to the attic when it got hot. The place where you shove stuff you don’t want to keep but can’t commit to throw away.

I had a room like that. My house started out as a
one family home. During World War II, it was made into two apartments, as many homes were in this military area. Another owner consolidated it into one house once again. The room I am describing is entered through pocket doors from the master bedroom. It was originally a nursery. It was a kitchen in the apartment era. An owner in the seventies turned it into a huge closet, with one wall of clothing rods top and bottom and built-in cedar lined bench storage units. Think very beige and lot of seventies track lighting. I loved the storage space, hated the room itself.

When I couldn’t stand it one minute longer, I removed the nasty wall to wall carpeting, painted the floor with high gloss enamel and turned it into a study/dressing area. I was stumped for a week on how to hide the clothes for cheap, cheap, cheap. Finally, I hung PVC piping from chrome chains anchored in the ceiling. The sheets are Mainstay twin sheets from Walmart, I just cut open the top hem and hung them. $4 per pair.

Almost everything else in the room I either had already, bought at Goodwill, or rescued from the curbside as follows:

Desk – my Papa made it for me

Dresser – Goodwill

Blue and red wicker storage bins – on sale Michaels

Globe – thrift store

Red Table – rescued from the curbside and painted.

Blue chair – belonged to my 3rd great grandfather who fought in the Civil War

Window seat stuff – Goodwill

Sailboat painting - Goodwill
Decorative items on open shelving - Goodwill
Decorative plates - Goodwill

FOOD: Wherein I post about a special dish; special because of convenience, taste, price or all three.

One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating.  ~Luciano Pavarotti

I like to keep a package or two of frozen creamed spinach (in the boil-in bag) in the freezer.  It goes on sale from time to time.  I don't use a great deal of convenience food, but the calorie and fat count on frozen creamed spinach isn't too bad.   

Last night, I had an hour and a half to fold two loads of laundry, put in another bunch of dirty clothes, feed the dogs, make dinner, research how to make a headboard out of an old door, and get ready for Bible study.  Here's what I threw together for dinner.  The prep time took five minutes.  I used the cooking time to take care of all the other tasks.

Chicken Florentine For a Busy Night

4 boneless chicken breasts
1/2 t nutmeg
1/2 fresh ground pepper
1/2 t red pepper flakes
1 pkg frozen creamed spinach
Parmesan cheese

Brown the chicken breasts on each side. Mix spinach and spices. spread a small amount of creamed spinach on the bottom of an oven proof casserole with a lid. Place chicken in the casserole. Put creamed spinach mixture on top.  Bake with the lid on at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes.   Serve with parmesan cheese on top.

I served the chicken with frozen mixed veggies and a baked yam to rave reviews.  I sliced the chicken up into bite-sized pieces, but you don't have to. 

I always have baked yams cooked ahead.  I bake 6 at a time and use them for lunch or for a side with dinner.

American Four Square in the Snow

He spreads the snow like wool and scatters the frost like ashes.  Psalm 147:16.

Abandoned Houses

Am I the only one who passes abandoned houses on country roads and wonders what became of the families who once built a life there? Virginia creeper vines insistently twist themselves into any crevice or crack, filling the vacuum that nature abhors. Neatly trimmed yards fill with weeds and trees self seed in a haphazard way. An occasional faithful perennial planted long ago by a young wife in a feed sack dress lifts its face to the sun or twines along a sagging fence.

How did the ties to the community grow loose and finally disappear? Did elderly parents pass away and educated children move to greener pastures? Doors stand open and windows gape blankly. The house remains silent.

Abandoned houses are best captured in black and white or sepia tones. They have their own stark and sad beauty. Does the house still contain the echoes of little feet and the growth marks in pencil on the pantry door? Did Grandma rock gently on that porch? Did a mother peer down the road waiting for a son to come home from war? Did the rain beat a tattoo on the tin roof as a young couple made love underneath? Did a middle-aged farmer sit on those sagging steps, wearily pushing his sweat stained hat back on his head as he read a foreclosure notice?

We will never know, because the abandoned house along a country road keeps its own counsel and shelters its own secrets.

Thinking Globally

I've always been fascinated with globes, geography, and different cultures around the world.  I love ethnic food, ethnic dance, ethnic music, and learning about the different ways we express who we are through our culture. 

Time Life published a series of books called "The Foods of the World."   http://www.amazon.com/s/?ie=UTF8&keywords=foods+of+the+world+time+life&tag=googhydr-20&index=aps&hvadid=6066494107&ref=pd_sl_88u5mgvu97_b

I think there were about a dozen volumes, "The Cooking of Japan," "The Cooking of Italy," etc.  I devoured every volume, because not only was cooking discussed, but also the culture of the area.  Proving that there is a picture of everything on the Internet, I found this shot of some of these favorite cookbooks next to...a globe, of course.

When I moved to Hawaii, I didn't know that there was a country named Tonga.  By the time I left, I had Tongan friends.  Through my Red Cross service, I learned about far off places like Kwajelein Atoll in the Pacific and Diego Garcia, BIOT (British Indian Ocean Terrority). 

I went on to supervise multicultural outreach workers.  I learned about their experiences as Vietnamese boat people, as Somali refugees who went to a high school graduation and ended up never seeing their families again.  I worked with the primitive Hmong people from Southeast Asia who worship animal spirits.   I learned that Vietnamese are largely lactose-intolerant, the Chaldean people of the Bible are still around, and Somalis have strong teeth because they drink camel's milk which has a high calcium content.

Lately, I've been stumbling across globes for under $5  in my thrifting adventures.  I love to search them out in junk stores and Goodwill.  Vintage status is easily determined by looking at Africa and checking for  Zimbabwe or Rhodesia.  Rhodesia means vintage.  Looking at Eastern Europe helps, too.

My upstairs hallway is long and dark.  It is hard to get a good shot in that area.  The globes are sitting on a bench storage unit.  The top lifts and there is a cedar lined storage area inside.  It is sort of like a window seat with no window.  The best part of this little vignette is that it keeps me from piling stuff on the bench

I found the frame for the chalkboard left out for the trash in a swanky neighborhood and spray painted it.  The scrollwork against the yellow wall pleases me.  I couldn't find a piece of wood that would fit behind the frame, so I just painted the wall with chalboard paint.  I change the message on it several times a week.  It reminds me of cleaning the chalkboard and clapping the erasers when I was at Sunset Ridge Elementary School and had Mrs. Thierfeld for fourth grade.

The chalkboard reads:  "He's got the whole world in His hands.  1 Samuel 2:8.  That Scripture says, "The foundations of the earth are the Lord's." 

Church Pew

Many years ago my mother graced our front porch with a vintage church pew.  It was rather non-descript initially, but in my mother's own special way, she jazzed it up. 

Mom once won a prize for having the most beautifully-decorated Christmas home in East Hartford, CT. She used a birdcage in her Christmas decor before shabby was even chic. 

The house with the church pew was in a beach community in New York and had terracotta colored shutters.  Mom painted the church pew to match.  She placed two huge round terracotta planters on either end and planted orange impatiens that spilled over in rioteous color.  The house was a not uncommon looking Cape Cod, but she made it look special.

Ever since then, I have wanted an antique church pew.  Not long ago, I was able to barter some blog work for a business in exchange for the pew I'd had in mind since I was in my teens and a marvelous metal tray with a sepia-toned chippy landscape on it. 

I thought the stairwell area needed a little something, so I made a wreath out of coffee filters.  I also got a small third-degree burn on my thigh from dripped hot glue, but we won't talk about that.

I was on a vintage roll that week, when I stopped in Goodwill for a spotting operation and found Webster's Unabridged Dictionary from 1935.

An Early Christmas Present

Someone really wonderful sent me this especially handsome and colorful rooster, which you can see on the left-hand side of the pic.  I found the gray rooster at Goodwill.  I was thrilled that he matched my gray counter (which I painted about six months ago), but the corner was just a little drab.  Mr. Colorful Rooster punched things up, don't you think?  The platter was $1 at Goodwill.  I stole the idea from some magazine article and just wrote on it with a red Sharpie.

Here is the second part of the gift, a hand-made table runner wth a red, yellow, and blue rooster pattern.  I love it!

Here's a close up:

Last year, this same kind person sent me a rooster calendar.  I put Mr. February, Mr. November, and his other colorful companions in some inexpensive frames.  I love how they look.

Spooky Vintage Halloween

I love visiting Richmond, Virginia's Carytown neighborhood, a mile-long eclectic mix of interesting shops and restaurants.  There's a wonderful vintage clothing shop called Bygones, which always has spectacular seasonal displays in their big front window. 
http://www.bygonesvintage.com/home.nxg

This year's Halloween display shows a woman knitting with a man in tails holding her knitting "yarn" (actually sparkling beading).   At first I didn't really notice all the spooky elements, only the spider web she was knitting behind her.  And then I realized that she had six legs!  I'd love to meet the person who arranges these displays.

The inside is just as clever with all sorts of vintage clothing going back all the way to the 1800's. 

I am a huge fan of vintage pictures.   I'm mad about flower pictures, bird pictures, and sentimental old religious prints. 

My grandmother had a breakfast nook that looked into the backyard.  It was much like a booth at a restaurant with high-backed chairs that fit two alongside a green formica table.  There was a little window with a shelf underneath at the sill level.  It held an old-fashioned radio tuned to the news on WTIC-AM and a toaster with a cloth-covered cord. 

My grandmother always had toast wth jelly, often orange marmalade, and several cups of strong coffee while she read little bon mots from the Tips and Topics section of the Hartford Courant out loud.  "Copper can be easily cleaned with a mixture of salt and lemon juice" or "Store your winter things with a bar of soap or a scented dryer sheet for a delightful smell"  or "garbage disposal blades will be sharpened by egg shells or coffee grounds."  Stuff like that.

After she ate, she'd often make breakfast for my Dad if he was around, creamed chipped beef that came in a funny little jar was a favorite.  Dad would read the sports section or the LL Bean catelog that was next to the toaster, along with an appeal from the St. Vincent de Paul Society and the latest bulletin picked up at St. Rose Church, where I was baptized.  "Lemon juice will remove the odor of onions from the hands," Helen would advise to no one in particular.

From my vantage point, right before my eyes on the opposite wall were two sentimental old religious plaques  One was a painting of a wee little thatched house.  At the bottom were the words, "Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man."  The other picture was a picture of Saint Patrick with an Irish blessing on it. 















I have no doubt that it must have been the many years I spent looking at these two pictures that put something inside my heart that such things meant, "home."

The picture of the young child is called, "The Light of the World" and depicts Jesus.  It hung in Helen's living room for as long as I can remember.

I always bring out the picture of the couple praying over the fields right around autumn, with its harvest and thankful themes.  

Love that Thrifted Vintage Look

I love old things, but I believe that the era from 1920-1940 is my favorite.  My guess would be that this is because it is the era of my grandmother's home, which was extremely important to me.   Helen's house was a refuge in a chaotic childhood. 

Some of the things I really love from this era are sentimental old floral and religious pictures, as well as old-fashioned lamps.  I hit the jackpot recently.

Here's a close up of a new-to-me lamp with lovely floral detail.  I picked up this pair at Goodwill recently.  The lampshades were found at Lowe's...reproductions of 1940's era lampshades which compliment the lamps perfectly

Here's a close up of the vintage picture.  I slammed on the brakes when I saw a pair of these, each floral slightly different, in a Habitat for Humanity Thrift Shop in Norfolk, Virginia.  The shop was largely a dusty, poorly-arranged disappointment, except for the wonderful old pictures and a milk glass cookie jar.  I spray painted the frames white.  The plantation shutter is part of a pair found in the attic when I moved to this house.

Small Fall Changes

The gilding of the Indian summer mellowed the pastures far and wide.
The russet woods stood ripe to be stripped, but were yet full of leaf.
The purple of heath-bloom, faded but not withered, tinged the hills.

Charlotte Bronte

I love making subtle changes to certain areas of my home to celebrate the seasons as the year marches on. 

Perhaps this is because I attend a liturgical church, where the passing year is marked by the church's seasons: Advent, Lent, Easter, and Pentacost.  The linens on the altar, the flowers chosen, the hymns sung all  reflect the season.   During Lent, our season of reflection, there are no flowers at all, followed by a lavish, exuberant display celebrating the Resurrection.

In any case, I enjoy marking the change of the passing months, just as I like observing the same thing in worship.  I've learned to celebrate seasonal changes frugally, as well. 

Years ago, I would purchase anything at Michaels' that captured  my fancy.  Anybody can do that.  There's nothing especially creative or personal about buying items gathered by someone else who doesn't know my personality and paying full retail price.  A cleverly eclectic decor really brings life into your home when you find one-of-a-kind, thrifted pieces.

Now I search for specific thrifted items, especally seasonally-themed vintage pictures. I've always been turned off by the ghoulish, macabre, tombstone-y Halloween items.  Death is nothing to celebrate, so I stay away from all of it. Bright orange and autumn-y red shades no longer enhance my decor.  I was having diffculty finding many of the white or off-white pumpkins and gourds at reasonable prices, so now I just paint them myself.  The items in the white display with the mirror in the back were all thrifted from Goodwill and sits inside my fireplace.

The picture of the fall birds on my mantel, as well as the wild turkeys on my marble-top table were purchased for under $5 at Goodwill.  I've been holding on to both of them since the winter in anticipation of Fall.  I painted the mantel picture's frame yellow to match the living room.   At this point, I believe I must have every color of spray paint ever manufactured.

I have two cloches or bell jars that I use continually throughout the year.  Neither were thrifted.  One is antique.  I found the other on sale at Walmart.   Amost anything pretty can be put under a cloche for a more important decorating statment than if the item sat alone.  Although both of  my cloches were over $20, I use them constantly.  They have been a sort of decorating investment.  This Autumn, I have a green pumpkin perched on top of fall-themed saucers in the dining from and a ghostly sepia-toned hand on top of more fall plates in the foyer area.

More Autumn finds next time while I await The Great Pumpkin...




                                                             

McCoy at Goodwill

I love finding "buried treasure" at Goodwill.    I found these wonderful McCoy vases, the pink and blue ones pictured, for $2.25 last Thursday.  I love when I find something like this!

Martha Ann

I went to Martha Ann’s funeral yesterday. The church was packed, as it should have been. It was nearly impossible for me to comprehend that my vibrant, busy, inquisitive, frugal, perceptive, and sometimes bossy friend was lying still in the coffin underneath the white pall.

If Martha Ann had been around during WWII, men would have called her a “great Dame.” Whenever I think of Martha Ann, I think of that movie, “The Unsinkable Molly Brown.” That’s just how Martha Ann was.

She was a no-nonsense, plain-speaking, jean-clad lighting contractor with ruddy cheeks and tousled hair. Until recently, she seemed far younger to me than her actual age of 66. Nothing intimidated Martha Ann; she was utterly confident in her own abilities. She was forgiving of foibles in both herself and others. She never held a grudge.

Martha Ann had a deep commitment to her community. She was the No. 1 Portsmouth, Virginia cheerleader ever. She saw things as they should have been, not as they were, even though she was a realist. But she wasn’t just one of those folks who criticized everything and sat at home with her folded hands in her lap. Not Martha Ann, not ever. She would work like a dog to see that change was effected, whether to was going to Richmond to successfully change state vacant house code or running for Mayor.

Martha Ann was also a person of deep faith. This sustained her through very tough times; the death of her daughter as a young adult, a terrible motor vehicle accident that left her knees in constant pain, a divorce, having her Victorian house flood twice, and battling breast and then bone cancer.

My dear friend, there will never be anyone else like you. I can’t bear to think of City Council meetings without seeing you in your old familiar place. I don’t want to think of Saturday mornings without your phone calls or my life without your sage advice. How can you be gone?

http://hamptonroads.com/2010/09/portsmouth-activist-martha-ann-creecy-dies-66

Thank You, Jenene

I love all my peeps over at Goodwill.  Donna's Mom, Jenene, lives out of state, but follows my blog.  She is in the process of down-sizing.    And so, this beautiful girl, which belonged to Jenene, is now living at 256!    Specifically, she lives in Piper's room, the little bedroom where my niece stays.  The fan the doll holds belonged to my wonderful friend, Hester.  Jenene is moving here soon.  I can't wait to get to know her.  In the meantime, thanks - thanks a bunch!