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The blog banner was made with elements from Lorie Davison. The nail head is Mo Jackson, the white rabbit and the key is Tangie Baxter. The butterflies are from Katie Pertiet.

Friday, December 31, 2010

Happy New Year's Eve - What's That Smell?

This was going to be a charming end of the year post.
I was going to write something eloquent and moving.
Something that might possibly bring a tear to your eye.
Instead something brought a tear to my eye.

You see,
I have these tiny little old, old, old perfume bottles.
They are in this cool old French Box.
I got the hare-brained idea
to clean one of them out
to make something.
You know they are really old because of their names.
This one is called
Let's think about that, shall we?
Let's not.
I don't wish to wear anything on my skin
with the smell described as
So you know it's really, really old.
I chose this one.
It was all dark brown inside and nasty looking.
I filled it with water.
I scraped out the white gooky stuff 
from around the sides.
It hit me.
The smell.
Oh, Lordy,
the smell.
To describe this smell
I would use the term
house of ill repute shall we say.
But then, that's insulting
to the French
to a house of ill repute.
would EVER
want to smell like this.
and yet....
I do!
It's on my hands.
It's in my kitchen.
It seems to be permanent!!!!!!!!!
A quick look on Google
and I decide to try 
white vinegar to clean the bottle.
Now I have some sort of 
a white pasty residue inside the bottle.
My kitchen smells like a 
house of ill repute
that has been
eating salad.
Or dyeing Easter Eggs.
Or perhaps,

I'm leaving now
to see if
I can purchase some
Skunk Off.
I'm hoping it helps.
Hope you have a great New Year's Eve.

(terrific...I can smell it on the computer mouse)

Monday, December 27, 2010

The Nesting Instinct

What is it about winter
 and the days following Christmas
 that make us want to
hunker down,
 put on warm socks,
 and melt into the couch with a cup of hot tea?
We want to clean up the mess.
Get order in our lives.
Ever notice
 that this is when the white sales 
container sales start?
It's not a coincidence.
After all of the craziness that comes 
with Christmas,
it's time to rest.
Settle in for a long winter's nap as they say.
Spring will come.
Just not soon.
I put this together with Michelle Palmer's
amazing drawings for a friend of mine.
If you haven't visited her Etsy shop
It's here:  

Put another log on the fire.
Fix a hot toddy 
and grab a good book.
Book or Nook.
Your choice.
But settle into your nest
for a spell.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

A Story of Christmas

Tell Me A Story of Christmas

by Bill Vaughn

“Tell me a story of Christmas,” the little girl said.The television mumbled faint inanities in the next room. 

From a few houses down the block came the sound of car doors slamming and guests being greeted with large cordiality.Her father thought awhile. His mind went back over the interminable parade of Christmas books he had read at the bedside of his children.

“Well,” he started, tentatively, “once upon a time, it was the week before Christmas, and all the little elves at the North Pole were sad ...”

“I’M TIRED OF ELVES,” she whispered. And he could tell she was tired, maybe almost as weary as he was himself after the last few feverish days.“OK,” he said. 
“There was once, in a city not very far from here, the cutest wiggly little puppy you ever saw. The snow was falling, and this little puppy didn’t have a home. As he walked along the streets, he saw a house that looked quite a bit like our house. And at the window ...”“Was it a little girl who looked quite a bit like me?” she said with a sigh.“I’m tired of puppies. I love Pinky, of course. I mean story puppies.”“OK,” he said.

“No puppies. This narrows the field.”“What?”“NOTHING. I’LL THINK of something. Oh, sure. There was a forest, way up in the North, farther even than where Uncle Ed lives. And all the trees were talking about how each one was going to be the grandest Christmas tree of all. 
One said, ‘I am going to be a Christmas tree, too.’ And all the trees laughed and laughed and said: ‘A Christmas tree? You? Who would want you?’ ”

“No trees,” she said. “We have a tree at school and Sunday school and at the supermarket and downstairs and a little one in my room. I am very tired of trees.”

“You are very spoiled,” he said.“Hmmm,” she replied. “Tell me a story of Christmas.”“LET’S SEE. All the reindeer up at the North Pole were looking forward to pulling Santa’s sleigh. All but one, and he felt sad because ...” he began with a jolly ring in his voice but quickly realized that this wasn’t going to work either.

 His daughter didn’t say anything; she just looked at him reproachfully.“Tired of reindeer, too?” he asked. “Frankly, so am I. How about Christmas on the farm when I was a little boy? Would you like to hear about how it was in the olden days, when my grandfather would heat up bricks and put them in the sleigh and we’d all go for a ride?”“Yes, Daddy,” she said, obediently, “but not right now. Not tonight.”He was silent, thinking. His repertoire, he was afraid, was exhausted. 

She was quiet, too. Maybe, he thought, I’m home free. Maybe she has gone to sleep.“Daddy,” she murmured. “Tell me a story of Christmas.

"THEN IT WAS as though he could read the words, so firmly were they in his memory. 

Still holding her hand, he leaned back:“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed ...

”Her hand tightened a bit in his, and he told her 
a story of Christmas.

Friday, December 17, 2010


Do you know what TIME it is?!?
We decorate our tree.
Pull out our old favorite Christmas Past
Like this tree skirt I made 
in 1970 something.
I cut out the pieces and hand stitched 
it together.  I think I was watching
Mash and Mary Tyler Moore
at the time.
We put out some of our favorite
new Christmas ornaments.
As well as some of our favorite 
vintage things.

 We bake Christmas cookies with our family.
Taking extra care with the
cutout cookies.

And we get our wisdom teeth out.
I didn't think that one through
too clearly.
It was just one.
And I was just out of commission
for a day.
Want to see a picture??
Of course you don't.
I'll leave you with this instead.
Check out the video on YouTube.
You'll be glad you did.


Tuesday, December 14, 2010

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

I wandered up to the antique store the other day.
  I was searching for something unusual.
I found it.
An  old post office  box with keys attached.
I opened the box and inside was something glowing.
It appeared to be a bottle!
It was a bottle alright.
With all kinds of tiny charms hanging on it.
One resembled a pumpkin. 
 It was a tiny orange bead 
with what looked to be a beaded twisted vine.
The top had been soldered closed and tied up
with old waxed cord of some kind.
There was a tiny clock charm and,
a tiny leaf charm.

I hung it from an old wine bottle
to get a better look.
The label had writing on it.
In tiny print under the number was hand written
these words:
glass slipper
I moved it over on a doily where the light was better.
Looking closely I could see glass shards inside the bottle!
The tiniest amount of sparkling glitter.

Do you suppose?
Could it be true?
What do you think?
Could it be the last remaining bits of
Cinderella's slipper?

It's for sale in my Etsy shop, now.

Monday, December 13, 2010

She quivered...

 He stood up; a gentle breeze blew in suddenly from the mountains, 
tousling his hair, attactively.
"Our destinies are not meant to follow one path."
He felt her heart throbbing joyously against him as his lips came, warm and tender, to meet hers.


I've been reading romance novels.
Really, I'm not a romance novel kind of girl.
But these are OLD romance novels.
You can tell by what body part is throbbing,
and that hair is being tousled attractively.
Take a look at the faces and their hair
on this old cover.

Take a look at the faces
and the hair on this newer cover!
If a large gust of wind comes up on these two
the tousled hair will blind them both!

And, trust me.
You do not want to know
what is throbbing or quivering
 in this book.
perhaps you do!
I'm not here to judge.

I've been looking for lines to use on my latest necklaces and keychains.
Like this.
Something to make you smile.
Maybe, blush.
Just a little bit. (wink, wink, nudge, nudge)
And my favorite, which I'm still working on.

The front.

The back.

Now, I'm going back to reading.

Another silence ensued
and when it ended
Lorna's lips and cheeks were rosy
from his lovemaking.

Dickens, it ain't!