Crystal Author
I’ve given myself a 30 day challenge and I’m going on a diet. A shopping diet. After returning from the Tennessee trip to celebrate my good friend’s birthday go shopping recently, I realized I have a huge slight problem with shopping and bringing home things I have no space for. Decorating and design are my jam, ain’t gonna lie. A junk store is my happy place, shopping is therapeutic. BUT when I come home with NO money left and piles of things I “HAD TO HAVE” but have no space in which to put a.single.thing…. It’s a problem that leads to buyers remorse and negates the therapeutic part. It’s actually stressful. So I’ve challenged myself to 30 days of no shopping. NOTE…this diet pertains only to shopping for the house. Food (I like to eat), personal hygiene items (I enjoy being clean and sweet smelling), and clothing ( I must have shoes and clothes, the alternative would be frightening), are exempt. Just want to be clear. I also apologize for the awful photos in this post. No excuses, they’re just bad.
No fabulous junk, no great vintage pieces, no more wonderful old stuff. In the next 30 days I must use whatever I have stashed in the attic or closets to change up my look. I will finish projects growing mold waiting patiently in the garage and attic with materials we have on hand. OK…. if Mr B needs supplies to finish those projects he’s exempt from the shopping diet. (Mr B, if you’re reading this….. we need beadboard). He’ll have no problem sticking to the plan, he already said I’ll never make it 30 days. HA! I’ll show him! I have will power! (No, I don’t……. Is will power something I can buy??? Where? Does Amazon carry it? I have Amazon Prime!) I am determined to find will power. I may need help.
In the next 30 days I’m not only going to stop shopping, I’m going to spend some time catching up with my dead relatives on Ancestry.com. I’m going to hunt my history. I’ve neglected my ancestors and they have stories that need to be told. Some are still waiting to be found. I want to find them and help tell their stories as well.
In the next 30 days I’m going to catch up on reading. I have a pile of books beckoning with stories of far away places, murders to be solved and all manner of mayhem to prevent.
In the next 30 days I’m finally going to teach Lily, our second rescue furbaby to walk properly on a leash.
In the next 30 days I’m going to add to my music library, rip and burn some CDs to share with the Grands, listen to some music I normally don’t listen to….. and find at least one new artist to love.
In the next 30 days I’m going to spend some time organizing my 20,000 photos.
Yep, the next 30 days are gonna be BUSY. BUT I WILL.NOT.SHOP.
I’ll keep you posted with my extremely successful what-am-I-thinking-30 day challenge. I’m confident hopeful I can do this. If you hear the faint sounds of laughter coming from Central Florida it will be Mr B…. who is convinced I will fold and head to the shops within a week, like a dog searching for its buried bones. But I am WOMAN. Hear me ROAR….. in my case it may very well be the sound of piteous whimpering.
Create your sanctuary no matter where you live.
We Southerners take our traditions seriously. And even though I am a yankee transplant I adopted a couple of those traditions as my own. If you drive far enough into the south you are likely to see one, or more bottle trees. Bottle trees are one of those things that northerners don’t “get.” Oh, they like them, they may even attempt one in their own gardens, but in the south a bottle tree is a necessity. Because. They capture bad spirits. Genies, and imps who want to cause problems. It’s true! I have a bottle tree in my back yard and I have yet to see a bad spirit, genie or imp in my home. So there. Proof positive these trees work!
The practice began in the ninth century in the Congo according to historians, and since I don’t know anyone from the ninth century to ask….well, I have to believe the historians know what they are talking about. Or maybe they have a direct line to the ninth century. Anyway….. Central African people believed that they could capture imps and bad spirits in glass bottles and began hanging bottles in trees to attract the spirits and trap them before they could enter their homes. The practice was taken to Europe and North America and the Caribbean islands by slaves and over the years became embedded in the south.
The Smithsonian says, “Bottle Trees have a long history as an element of spiritual, cultural and aesthetic significance in American History and garden design.” WOW! Who knew? Mr B says it’s just another way for me to add junk to the yard and advertise to the neighbors that we may have a drinking problem. Let me just say up front that I have no problem, zero…. with drinking and some of the nastiest tasting wines come out of the prettiest bottles. Make of that what you will.
Legend says that the bright colors attract the spirits and when they enter the bottle they can’t get out. Makes perfect sense…..I can’t get IN a bottle, much less get out of one. I have enough trouble getting in and out of my jeans. HOWEVER…… once trapped inside the bottle sunlight fries the little pranksters before they can do harm. Good thing, I’m not sure I’d want any mess making imps in my home….I still remember the Grands when they were toddlers….. I never thought about trapping them in bottles…………I did, however threaten to send them to “Hell Western Crooked,” a place my Grams always threatened to send me. It sounded like a very bad place and I never, ever wanted to go there. Glad she didn’t have a bottle tree….. Just sayin.
You can purchase pre-made bottle trees from on-line sites or through many local garden centers (if you live in the south). You can also add individual bottles to your garden just by sinking a length of rebar in the ground. You can find rebar in the building section of Home Depot or Lowes. If you don’t know what rebar is, just ask one of the friendly associates. Or use any sturdy metal rod, copper works well and has the added bonus of developing patina with time. (Make sure your metal rods are a smaller diameter than your bottle opening.) You can suspend the bottles from your tree branches by tying them with sturdy twine around the neck of the bottles. A glob of glue for outdoor projects will hold the twine around the neck of the bottle. For the record, I do not recommend pruning tree limbs and placing the bottles on the end of the branches. It causes unnecessary trauma to the tree and improper pruning may actually kill your tree. Just stick with a pre-made one. Unless you have a sturdy dead tree (Is that an oxymoron?) Then prune away and add bottles to your heart’s content.
Author Eudora Welty (1909-2001) made the southern bottle tree famous in her short story, “Livvie.”
“Coming around up the path from the deep cut of the Natchez Trace below was a line of bare Crape Myrtle trees with every branch ending in a colored bottle, green or blue. There was no word that fell from Solomon’s lips to say what they were there for, but Livvie knew there could be a spell put on trees and she was familiar from the time she was born with the way bottle trees kept evil form coming into the house… Solomon had made the bottle trees with his own hands over the nine years, in labor amounting to about a tree a year, and without a sign that he had any uneasiness in his heart, for he took as much pride in his precautions against spirits entering the house as he took in the house….”
Special note: Clean your bottles before using them in the garden. You don’t need drunken bees hurtling around. They like wine. You won’t like tipsy bees.
If you want to protect your home and take the necessary precautions to catch evil spirits, make a bottle tree. You don’t have to become a wine-o. Just do what I did, ask your neighbors to drink the wine and save the bottles for you. They’ll be happy to help. Trust me.
Create the home you see in your heart. You deserve a sanctuary, no matter where you live.
I’m a collector of things, which means I’m also a buyer. But what happens when buying becomes more than adding a sought after item to a thoughtful, curated collection and becomes….. just buying more stuff? Is there a line between being a collector and becoming a hoarder? How do you know when you’ve crossed that line? Can you see the line? Is it marked in your mind’s eye? Is there a warning bell that lets you know when you are approaching the Hoarder Line? Like the flashing lights and clanging bells at railroad crossings? That would come in handy.
I “have a thing” for lots of things…..skeleton keys and padlocks, door knobs and hardware in general. Scales, oh yes, I surely do have scale love. And I suffer from a terminal case of grain sack love. The more the better. I get a bad case of heart eyes over crocks and stoneware bottles. Throw in a love of McCoy Pottery, (the matte white “Floraline”) and an obsession with old clocks, vintage radios and fans, Royal Copley Dog planters and old bottles, and my home could be a museum with me as the curator.
I’ve been getting rid of things I’ve outgrown or anything that no longer supports my style for a couple of years. YEARS! And during that time, I’ve also purchased more things. Mr B routinely asks, “What are you going to do with that?” “Don’t you have X number of those already??” “Oh, I see you’ve purchased something else for the attic.” You know….all the helpful statements and questions that frankly make me a bit angry and defensive. “I know what I’m buying”. (no, I really don’t) “I know exactly how many of “those” I have” (No clue) ……. “I routinely rotate things so my collections don’t become overwhelming” (sounds good in theory but I don’t do it) …..“I have a place for this” (Not without a second house.) …… All those responses that I make to justify whatever it is I want to buy.
Not too long ago I announced I was cutting back on shopping, I actually heard his eyes roll. It sounded a bit like ball bearings clanking around in an empty drum. Not that Mr B’s head is empty or remotely drum shaped….. I didn’t even have to look, but I was surprised he could still see to drive….. what with the eyeballs rolled all the way back in his head. I was serious. He was scoffing. This took place in the car when we were going to pick up the commode I recently wrote about.
Mr B loaded the commode in the back of the car and said he was going to “browse” the Play It Again Sports store located a couple of doors down from the antique shop, meaning he would speed walk through the store and be out the door within a minute, purchased item in hand. An item I might add, from HIS shopping list….. which he had researched the pros and cons and price checked. He was gone for only a few minutes and during that time, I decided I couldn’t live without a WWII phone, a sewing machine drawer, a mirror, a feedsack pillow and a large vintage bowl. WHAT???? I have a problem.
On a recent trip to Tennessee to celebrate the birthday of a dear friend, Mr B said the rest of the trip was mine, we could do anything I wanted to do. I had a glorious week in the mountains. We enjoyed Nashville of course, because I’m a Honky Tonk Woman. And we both love music. Then there are all those antique malls and a town with a section of shops that I MUST visit each time we go. And one of us loves those. I had a list of several items I needed (relative term) to finish a display or fill a space (we have no empty space at the Brown abode). Did I buy any of those items? NOOOOO. I bought other things. Things I HAD TO HAVE. Little things. Inexpensive things. Things I had no use or space for. Things that I didn’t even like after I got them home. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE? I obviously looked at the things, I apparently thought I wanted or needed them, so why was there even ONE THING I decided after plunking down my cash that I didn’t really need, want or…..even like??? I require an intervention.
I have to face the ugly truth. I have a shopping problem. Actually I have an IMPULSE SHOPPING problem. When the impulse registers in my brain that I need, want, must have that key, vase, sack, scale, pot, crock, bottle or clock I simply cannot resist it. But this it! I have acknowledged my problem. I am going to stop with the shopping…. I’m calling a shopping moratorium…Except my Granddaughter is coming for a visit and she has a love of vintage cameras and “stuff.” We enjoy junking together. I cannot deny her that pleasure…..right?
I don’t have a handy tip or trick to circumvent the impulse buy dilemma, if there is one, please let me know. My good friend, Iona shares this affliction, but she’s much more philosophic about it than I. I’m betting we are not alone. The desire to feather our nests runs deep, there may not be a cure. Perhaps I should be more thoughtful about what I bring into my home. BUT…… As I look around, I see things that bring me joy, make me smile, or bring back a precious memory……and not many clunkers. That, in the end is what keeps me returning to those shops….. I’m buying memories…. and those memories are priceless.
Create the home you see in your heart. Surround yourself with things you love, things that make you smile. Love the home you’re in no matter where you live, it’s your sanctuary.
Buying antiques can be risky. There are clever reproductions of almost every vintage item available, original, authentic pieces may be damaged beyond repair or have hidden problems.
Problems are myriad; musty smells, unidentified odors or….yuck! dead animal smells, wobbly and weak joints, pieces are repaired or refinished in such a way that the original value is destroyed. Valuable pieces are painted and those of lesser value are restored. There is no way to tell if you are getting an authentic vintage item or a knock-off without doing research and buying from reputable dealers.
Even after years of buying furniture I get suckered now and then. My last purchase proved to be a bit (understatement) of a problem. I had been looking for a vintage commode for about a year to use as a nightstand. I was using a singer sewing machine, complete with machine and working treadle for several years. I loved it. I beat my bestie in a race to nab it. But it didn’t function quite as well as I liked for its intended purpose. I didn’t want to get rid of it but had to face the fact that if I wanted something else, the sewing machine had to go. So I sold it to a friend who loves it and uses it as her nightstand…. and I made space for a new piece.
I finally found a vintage commode at a decent price in my favorite local shop. I know some of the dealers, am friends with one, and at least know others by face. I didn’t know this particular vendor but I felt safe buying there. (you already suspect something, right?) I looked at that commode several times, I did the smell test, pulled out the drawers and took big whiffs. It passed. The drawers worked fine. The cabinet door opened and closed, it needed a new magnetic catch, but that’s an easy fix. Bonus, it had casters! Y’all know I love casters! And it had some yummy hardware.
So I bought it, paid for it and put a sold sign on it. Mr B enthusiastically agreed to go with me to pick it up. In the meantime the women at the shop unloaded it and it was empty and ready for me by the time we got there. Mind you, I had never moved it. It had been loaded with small items for sale and even the drawers were full, so I never pulled it out to see how sturdy it was. Big mistake. As it turns out….HUGE mistake.
It wobbled. I looked at Mr B. He was looking at me. The shop owner was darting her eyes around looking everywhere except at either of us. “Um…it wobbles,” I announced. Duh. One of the other dealers came to observe and said; “You can fix that with a bit of wood glue and some clamping.” Mr B rolled his eyes. I asked if he could stabilize it. “Maybe. Won’t know until we get it home.” Since I’d already paid for it, we Mr B loaded it in the car and we went home. By this time I was having a severe attack of buyers remorse. What if it couldn’t be fixed?
Mr B worked on it for a WEEK! Glued and clamped, removed the top, put it back on, glued and clamped that and replaced the stripped screws where someone else had attempted to fix it. It still wobbled like a drunk on Main Street. Added a new back and screwed that on. Still wobbled, just not completely drunk, more like tipsy. I asked if he could take it all apart and rebuild it. He stared at me for 3, maybe 4 seconds and then said; “I think it’s as good as it’s gonna get.” Translation: “I love you, but ain’t no way I’m gonna do that.” Sigh.
So I shrugged and proceeded to the fun part, paint. Yep, painted it. Before you start sending me hate mail about painting vintage pieces and destroying their value, let me just say this: “Some pieces are enhanced by painting.” Some aren’t really all that valuable, no matter how old. And some, like this old girl just aren’t built well or have already been refinished by someone else. Painting it doesn’t devalue it at all. And I have a vision for the bedroom and it includes painted furniture.
Someone had obviously refinished it. With shiny, glossy poly. Don’t do this. Vintage and/or antiques shouldn’t be shiny. Unless you’re into mid century lacquer finishes or oriental furniture. Otherwise, gloss is not a good look. If you want to add a soft authentic sheen, go for furniture wax and buff. It’s a lovely finish. For furniture that will see hard use, like table tops and dressers, opt for a matte finish. Don’t do shiny. Ever.
While inspecting this old girl I fell in love with the graining on the sides. It looked like oak. I was tempted to refinish it and leave it natural. But the top…… it had open grain, ditto for the top drawer, not the tight grain of oak that I love. Those sides tho. And even the back in its raw wood state! Oh, if she had been like that all over, this post would be a lot different. This was a commode obviously pieced together with whatever wood was on hand. Like many pieces were in the early days of america when fine furniture was hard to come by. I felt no guilt in painting this. None. OK, I got a bit of a pang when I looked at the sides. In the back of my mind I thought, “hmmmm….if I hate it painted, I’ll just strip it.” (I should close the door to the back of my mind.)
Out came my “go-to” color, Valspar “Honey Vanilla” in flat latex. I like this color because it plays nice with other creams and ivories. I favor warm ivory tones or creamy whites. The stark whites or cool whites don’t appeal to me, they work better with modern or contemporary style and I’m in love with the vintage american farmhouse furniture. I like the warmth of age and this color gives the illusion of a white that has aged with use and time.
I cleaned the entire piece with a 50/50 vinegar and water solution to remove dirt and oil and then lightly sanded the top with 200 grit sandpaper to give it some tooth. Wiped it down again with the vinegar solution, let it dry and it was ready. Application was easy. I just used a brush. I did two coats, letting each coat dry over night. I kept the old brass pulls in their original state, I love them. I’m not crazy about the run-of-the-mill replacement porcelain knobs that came with it. I’ll be changing those out for brass as soon as I find some that play nice with the original pulls. For now, the knobs are functional.
I’ve not been distressing my pieces as much lately, preferring to let them get dinged up on their own. I used a paint scraper along some of the edges to remove a bit of paint here and there, but not much. I debated waxing the top or doing matte poly. In the end I did matte poly. This is going to get some use. I pile books on it. Magazines. My reading glasses. Sometimes a drink. But now I’m not liking it so much. It’s too shiny. So in the near future, I’ll take it back outside, sand the poly off, repaint the top and then wax it. Because I love doing things over and over. (This may not be true.)
“You need to make decisions and stick with them,” said someone to me…. Once. After living with me for many years, I no longer get that advice. It’s pointless. I second guess myself. Sometimes I even third guess. Or I’ll love something for awhile and wake up one morning and I don’t love it anymore. But that’s the beauty of paint. It can be removed, re-applied. Changed. The power of paint to make ugly beautiful is amazing. It’s cheap. It’s usually a quick fix. I’m pretty happy with the new look.
Moral: Inspect your prospective piece carefully. Ask to move it to see if it’s stable, do the smell test. Open and close drawers. Look inside. Decide if you have the skill to repair loose joints, rotted sides, or rebuild. And if you are buying something to paint, don’t be afraid to make mistakes. If you don’t like it, don’t force yourself to live with it. “IT’S JUST PAINT” is a mantra of decorators for a reason. It’s true, it’s just paint. Or in this case, poly. So keep trying until you get it right. My little commode might benefit from multiple layers of paint, it might even become sturdier….. you know…. “held to together with spit and baling wire?” Maybe it should be, “held together with love and paint.” Why not? It’s as good an idea as any other, and who wants to sleep next to something held together with spit? eeuuuw, gross.
Create your sanctuary, one room at a time. Create the home you see in your heart, no matter where you live.
I’m so happy with my latest addiction purchase….I thought I’d share it with you. It’s my, wait for it….. letter board! I’m thrilled with the quality and how much fun it is. Letter boards take me back to the old days, growing up. I remember them in diners and mom and pop stores, listing everything from sodas to burgers and blue plate specials. They were standard for advertising the day’s menu or what was fresh and on sale at the market. They fell out of use and were replaced with white boards and later, flashy digital signs. But like all vintage goodies, they started showing up in recent years at coffee houses and organic food markets where everything vintage is trendy again. I began seeing them in magazines and blogs in the last year or so. I knew I wanted one but wasn’t thrilled about the prices. They can be pretty spendy.
I finally found one at a price I could tolerate, in a size I liked, not too large so I could move it around the house if I wanted, (this one is about an 11 x 18, including the frame) and I wanted one already framed with wood. Some of the less expensive ones are framed with aluminum, and those are fine and actually look a bit more vintage….but you can certainly use reclaimed wood, or even new wood and make a new frame. I wanted one already done.
I found mine on Amazon through the RIVI company. (Just search felt letter boards, there are a number of companies and price points.) It’s great quality. The frame is well made, the felt is smooth and tight and it comes with dozens of letters, including numerals and punctuation. The only down side was removing the letters from the plastic shipping frame. That was a pain. I finally got a single edged razor blade and a cutting board and separated them cleanly.
Of course I wasn’t organized enough to have any sort of plan for storing the letters, so I just threw them all in the vinyl storage bag that comes with the board. Duh. I had to spread them out all over again on the kitchen island to create my first message….. “Queen of my Domain.” Appropriate since I am Queen. Of my domain. Or at least that’s what I call myself. And there are hints that I am a queen….The nickname given to me at the office was, “Queenie.” I have a mason jar embossed with the words, “The Queen,” Mr B calls me a royal…. pain, and I have a mug that says, “It’s Good to be Queen,” so I’m pretty sure I’m truly Queen. Whatever! I finally separated the letters into a little plastic bin with compartments for storing beads and other bits and bobs. It works great, and bonus….it was cheap and I found it in the craft aisle at Walmart. Now I only have to look through 2 letters in each compartment. Easy peasy.
Queen of My Domain quickly gave way to, “I am not a Hoarder.” That got a Mr B chuckle and and his famous eye roll. I’m not a hoarder…..I’m a collector. A curator. A Keeper of History! That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Of course I want to change the message from time to time and come up with slogans and quotes, seasonal greetings and family jokes, and inspirational phrases. I’m going to become the family philosopher of the letter board! I feel like I did when I bought the first magnet letter set for my son to use on the fridge. A pile of letters gets my creative juices flowing. I played with those magnets more than he did. Of course I could read and spell and he was just a toddler. Let’s not quibble over details….. But it’s never too early to foster your childrens’ creativity right?? (Or take over their toys.)
My oldest Granddaughter, Shelby came for a quick visit before starting her summer job and we had a fun filled 5 days of shopping, LOLing, binge watching “The Last Kingdom,” swimming, and of course eating all her favorite foods. On her last day it was a flurry of packing, deciding what would be shipped to her home, a last minute hair cut and lots of hugs. Like her father and yes, her grandmother, she is a prankster. When she asked about the box of letters I didn’t think much of it. (I should have known better.) Later I noticed her picking through the letters and figured she was going to create a new message.
The Bigs (the two oldest Grands) have always written notes to me or drawn pictures. I’ll find one after a visit, tucked away somewhere to surprise me. I was touched by Shelby’s effort to take the time and sort through the letters to change up the letter board. I knew she’d leave a message or quote to inspire, she has a big heart.
Every time I walk past the kitchen desk I smile. I know I am loved.
I highly recommend getting a letter board. It’s fun, it can be inspirational, reminding us of our dreams and goals or even a “To Do” list. Maybe your family will leave you messages, and I don’t know…..be…. um…..sweet?? Or at least more traditional in their pronouncements of love for you. But I like my message just fine. It’s a reminder my Grands feel safe and loved, they can express their humor without fear of reprisal, (OK, that’s a lie. I am so gonna embarrass her at the first opportunity) and that they’ve inherited my sense of humor. It could be worse.
It’s the little things that make a house a home. Add your personality.
No one does you better than YOU.
Create your sanctuary one room at a time. Create the home you see in your heart.
Recent Comments