mother's day hankie banner

so i was going through my grandmother's hankies and tryin' to pick out my least favorites so i could use 'em to make my cousin jo a few halter tops to wear when we venture outdoors to look in neighbor's windows while taking the trendy triplet maltese un-dogs for their stroll.  i'm hoping to replace those ancient tiny tube tops she fancies wearin' when the weather is above 70 degrees. they are way too revealing for someone her age - or ANY age - plus getting those tubes over that big beehive of hers calls for some re-teasin' and another coat of aquanet.

anyway, as i was pressing my grandmother's hankies and tryin' to decide which ones i was willing to sacrifice i realized they'd make a really nice banner - or a bunting if you prefer - that is sure to bring a big smile to even an often grumpy grandmother like the one jo and i had wished we still had.

soooo...i turned a few of our beloved hoarding grandmother's hankies into delightful digital doo dads designed for delivery via download here on my blog - no dollars demanded.

if you'd like to decorate this mother's day or ANY day with a cheerful smile inducing banner of vintage possibly antique foral hankies just hit THIS and you'll end up with a download of some hankies to hang. i've included directions with these digital doo dads but feel free to demand help. just hit the contact button up above. please let me know if the link is lazy - as you i've told you many times, i'm no master o' the web - and i'll dash this download (or any of the others that are still around but don't work and you want) to you myself.

i do so hope you are having a lovely day be you a mother or not. i've gotta go make jo's hankie halters now. xoxoxo

studio closet make-over

a few years ago, with no warning, i was whipped into a D.I.Y. whirlwind that just about killed me. i am only alive today because the steel wool i pitched into the laundry room trash can started a small fire and i decided that i was too tired to get up and put it out. i eventually did but decided it might be time to stop the D.I.Y. for a bit.

had i only known there would be a pandemic about to plow through the planet's population i would have postponed a few projects for the protracted period at home. putting a bit of space between each would have been less painful.

thankfully, those born with masses of D.I.Y. in their D.N.A. bounce back from a multitude of manic makeovers and can always find at least one a more thing that can be made marvelous. shortly after seeing the words 'shelter at home' on the television screen i began searching for 'that thing'. it didn't take long to find it: my studio storage system…aka craft closet full of plastic bins.

while i am most thankful for rubbermaid, closetmaid, sterilite and all other clear plastic bin makers assisting me with my horde over the years, it was time for something that would actually work for me rather than against me.

keeping my creative chamber under control has always been a challenge. i like spending every minute creating and not one single second putting things back where they belong. to make this dilemma more dire, i can't begin creating unless everything is perfectly in place. it makes for quite the quandary. (i wrote about this -  here - in 2005 when you could read everything that may interest you on the worldwideweb in an hour or less).

back then my studio storage needs could be filled with a few shelves lined with mason jars and cute little suitcases...

but as i added new creative endeavors to designing digital doo dads for delivery via download, i discovered a demand for depositories with lager dimensions. having detected a plethora of plastic bins in the basement, i decided they would do until i figured out somethin' else.

this was a monstrous mistake. in my desperation for depots for all my doohickeys i had disregarded the diagnosis for my daily dissent into disorder: i will not under any circumstance stop to remove a lid off a container to replace anything. and not putting things back where they belong made my workroom unworkable.

i searched for something more sensible to supplant my supply system and realized the simplest solution was a series of drawers. lots of drawers. yes - lots and lots of drawers would allow me to easily perform the acts of removing and replacing. 

i googled drawers and gazed at a gaggle to choose from. but my choice was impaired by pandemic wave one. it was not the best time to hire even a handsome handyman to come into my home much less a crew of custom carpenters, any who may carry a case o’ covid. 

after much scrolling it was settled - ikea would be the solution. it would be much less expensive than i had expected and if a better solution was found at a later date, i could donate the drawers to my daughter.

once i counted my plentitude of plastic containers, i visited ikea online, placed my order, stocked up on strength giving snacks and anxiously waited for my drawer delivery.

when the day finally dawned i had hoped to have a good humored husband or darling daughter assist in this daunting drawer deed but raging pandemic be damned they both disappeared at the same time the masked delivery man did. it would just be me and three darling dogs.

it's surprising how many cardboard containers it takes to deliver lots and lots of drawers. after fighting the first armor-like box open, i discovered that it also takes lots and lots of pieces to make just one drawer.

i put the first few together, made every mistake possible, ate two rolls of neccos for my nerves and then read the instructions.

i don't know exactly how long it took me to complete this challenging chore. it was a lot of work but worth every minute and each minor injury. how i managed for so long with stacks o' plastic bins rather than dozens of drawers is a mystery to me. it's been like magic - though i still have to make myself put everything back where it belongs each night before i turn off the lights.

but now i just pitch everything in a laundry cart on wheels (i make sure the little dogs are removed first), roll it into the closet and dump things into the right drawer. i open the door each day to the doo dad den delighted to discover everything is deposited where designated.

be sure to stop by again soon as i'm hoping to blog a bit about the enormous D.I.Y. project that i should have never even considered i could do myself.

xoxoxoxoxmo

halloween memories

my favorite memories of halloween are those where i was challenged to create my daughter's choice of costume. from the time she entered nursery school until she abandoned me for a higher education, her decision for each year's disguise was a big deal. not only because her desire would command a custom made costume but because her decision was always so delinquent. 

after a few frantic all-nighters gluing green rhinestones all over tiny canvas keds (tinkerbelle's shoes) and sewing scarlet sequins on mary janes (dorothy's ruby red slippers) i began to prod her for 'the halloween plan' right after i put away the costume she had just worn. i would continue to ask until she answered which was never earlier than two or three days before she was to be adorned in the attire. 

it was difficult havin' a child whose costume decisions took so much deliberation. it left little time for preparation but somehow i was able to deliver her determinations each year and watchin' her prance proudly in the halloween parades would make me forget the frenzy it took to get there.

my worst halloween memory is also costume related. i was five. while shopping with my mom and siblings i spied a mighty mouse costume and declared it was exactly what i wanted to wear halloween night. all three heads shook negatively. my mother explained that i couldn't be mighty mouse because he was a boy and i was a girl. the cart kept rollin' with no further discussion.

once in the chevy headin' home i pouted. i didn't understand. everybody pretending to be something they weren't that night so why couldn't i pretend to be a super hero that was a boy even though i was a girl? my little brother could tell i was unhappy and told me when i turned into a boy i could be any super hero i wanted. he said this because i believed - and had informed him - that you were born one thing and later turned into the other and then decided which you preferred. it made perfect sense to me - and to him.

during dinner it was decided i would be a witch. afterwards i laid on the floor next to my mom's sewing machine with my eyes closed, imagining myself flying door to door as a mighty male mouse. my day dreamin' ended when the sewing ceased and i was handed my much older sister queenie's outgrown once black dance leotard with a piece of black net gathered up for a skirt. i hated it. i asked what i was going to do for a broom and hat. mom said i couldn't carry a trick or treat bag AND a broom and that we'd see if we could find something to use as a hat at the dime store. what was she thinking? i had two arms, each with hands. one could certainly function as a candy bag carrier while the other branded a broom. of course i didn't say say any of that to my mother. nor did i say with disgust that i knew that 'find something to use' meant being forced to use something that isn't close to what you really want and being told it is perfect as if you are blind. 

within days we went to the dime store - where there were few things costing a dime - looking for something to be 'used' as a witch's hat. as we pushed the empty cart up and down the aisles my mom picked up objects nothing like a witch hat, chipperly saying with each 'look mo. this would be perfect' and with every item she waved at me i became more and more disenchanted with my beloved mother and any participation in halloween. but the thought of my siblings having bags of tricked for treats and me having none was unacceptable. so the bad ideas continued. i grew weary of the useless hat hunt especially because just a coupla' aisles over sat that oh so perfect mighty mouse costume.  

just when i considered my first public tantrum - something only montrous children did to mortify their mothers - i saw a real witch costume in a beeeeyoootiful cardboard box complete with a real witch hat and a fancy plastic mask that would make me look like a real witch! if i couldn't be mighty mouse i would at least be a REAL witch. i grabbed the box, carried it to the cart, pitched it in and heard someone say to my mother, in a voice i would never use but that was somehow coming out of my mouth, 'we're buying it'. no one in my family had ever had a store bought costume. my siblings were as shocked at my demand as they were by my tone and their faces were scary looking. 

my mom didn't say a word, the pretty box with the real witch costume was purchased and for a coupla' days my sister and brother treated me with the great respect i had always deserved. 

a few nights later i got what i deserved for my attempt to punish my mother for wanting me to be a wonky witch instead of a manly mouse. wearing the cheap polyester costume and the plastic mask on the texas october night was like being sealed up in a zip lock bag. before i was able to beg for candy from the porch of the closest house i was soaked with sweat. by the time we got home i was so sick that instead of a supper of sugar with my siblings and an episode of the jetsons, i went straight to bed. 

i'm sure my failed effort to be mighty mouse made me exuberantly embrace mini's many male costume choices. they included winnie the pooh, woody and the tin man and being such a clever girl, she did many with a twist - there was harriet potter, petra pan and everybody's favorite, sponge betty square skirt - all fondly remembered.

i'll now add to my halloween memories as a sweaty witch attempting to mulct my mother and those sewing from sundown to sunup as my daughter's a costume couturier the terrifying halloween of twenty-twenty. with the election looming and the disease daunting, this is the scariest halloween i've sustained. nothing i've experienced so far compares to these simultaneous suspenseful occurrences.

my dear departed mother would say - so often i wish it wasn't too late to apologize to her for my annoyance at it's repetition - 'this too shall pass'. she was usually right so i remain hopeful.

i'll sum up this sequel by thanking you for continuing to pass by my blog even when the same blahblahblah appears for too long. please stay safe, always hopeful and wear a mask when you leave the house even when it's not halloween. 

xoxoxomo