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

Wizzy.

Let's think about that, shall we?

Ummm...

Let's not.

I don't wish to wear anything on my skin

with the smell described as

Wizzy.

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.

THEN

It hit me.

The smell.

Oh, Lordy,

the smell.

To describe this smell

I would use the term

French.....

ummm.....

house of ill repute shall we say.

But then, that's insulting

to the French

AND

to a house of ill repute.

NO ONE

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.

Great.

Now I have some sort of 

a white pasty residue inside the bottle.

AND...

AND..

My kitchen smells like a 

house of ill repute

that has been

eating salad.

Or dyeing Easter Eggs.

Or perhaps,

both.

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)

swell

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 

and 

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

GO!

It's here:  

 http://www.etsy.com/shop/MichellePalmer

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.

Happy Christmas To All!

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.

This piece was written in 1959 by Bill Vaughn

 of  the Kansas City Star 

Say KIDS!

Do you know what TIME it is?!?

IT'S CHRISTMAS TIME!!!!

We decorate our tree.

Pull out our old favorite Christmas Past

decorations.  

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 

old

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.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4cP26ndrmtg&feature=channel

Check out the video on YouTube.

You'll be glad you did.

Peace

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!

And

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.

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.

Yeah.

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.

Or,

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!