Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Meet Me In St. Louis, It's a Wonderful Life, White Christmas, Oklahoma, and A Christmas Story (with Ralphie) are among my favorites, but honestly, I can't recall one old movie or musical that I didn't love.
I love little old ladies. They're so cute. For years I told my mom that when she was old I was going to put her in a flowered housedress, a pink button-up cardigan sweater adorned with sequins, and pearl clip-on earrings. She actually had pierced ears but I just love those old earrings. I would rosy up her cheeks with pink powder blush and put a little pink lipstick on her.
She was horrified. Not just because of the outfit, but also because she was redhead and didn't like herself in pink. She was born and raised in SanFrancisco and was definitely not a country girl. I went on to tell her I would put "sensible shoes" on her, wrap a polka-dotted chiffon scarf over her curls, and we would go for a nice ride. Everything was "nice" with mom. We took nice baths, went for nice walks, and she prepared nice meals. I told her I'd give her a shopping cart to hang on to and set her in the candy aisle where she could shop to her hearts content, just like we did with my Grandma Nora, her mom. Grandma left SanFrancisco when she was in her 80's to live with us. I still remember the first time she saw snow. She said it looked like popcorn falling from the sky. She loved it. She was the cutest little thing.
Sadly, late this summer we lost Mom. I miss her. All four of us kids catch ourselves saying 'nice" quite often, and it makes us smile.
I enjoy listening to old radio shows and music from the 1940's. Actually I'm kinda obsessed with the 1940's. I have a teal 1940 pick up truck, built by my husband. It's all shiny and new looking, but I'd be just as happy if it was a beat- up, dirty ol' farm truck.
I also love vintage Christmas music, year round . . . yes, I'm that girl who is ecstatic when the Christmas music starts on the radio in November while everyone else groans! I even like playing Christmas music on the piano,
I love anything handmade, vintage, and country. And mason jars. I'm adding a drop-down link to a page all about mason jars, because I could do a new project every day of the year for ten years without running out of ideas.
"I believe in handmade" is my motto. Because I really do.
I enjoy creating things with my hands. I love to sew, quilt, make dolls and toys, crochet, knit, and embroider. If that wasn't enough, I also love to garden, cook, bake, and make jam and bread. Creating healthy, homemade alternatives to chemical-filled everything is also big on my very long list of things I love to do. When I hear someone say they're bored I don't even have words . . . seriously, how can you possibly be bored when there are so many fun and amazing things to do? new paragraph
I love to draw and paint. It's funny, up until a little over a year ago I didn't even know I could draw. I decided to try to draw an image in a vintage children's book, and I was literally shocked. . . and I cried. It was really good, well for someone who never drew before. I can't even read my own handwriting, and I'm not joking. . . sometimes I have to call home from the store when I'm staring at my grocery list and ask "Do we maybe need peanut butter?" because I have no idea what the scribble on my list says. I've enjoyed painting for many years, but never really took it seriously.
My mom was an artist, although she didn't think she was. I've always admired people who could draw. So . . . when I realized I could do it . . . I went crazy. I drew everything and anything, mostly characters from my stories, and showed them to anyone who walked through the door. I'm sure they got a little tired of it, but since they seemed to get a kick out of seeing me so excited. I hope telling this story will inspire someone out there to try something they've wanted to do but are convinced they can't.
I write stories. . . for children mostly. Well, actually they are in my head, not on paper. One of these days I'm going to get around to actually writing and illustrating them. Mostly just for me and the grandchildren, but if I get my courage up I'll put them out there. It's pretty easy to self-publish nowadays. I'm not sure if anyone would want to read them, but I guess I won't know until I try. new paragraph
Dad's side comes from Kentucky and southern Illinois. Mostly farmers, and my cousin also supplies bulls for rodeos. As child
ren our grandparents would take us "downhome" to visit family. I have so many wonderful memories of the farms and the people. Of all the places on earth, downhome is where I feel the happiest. It's where I feel I belong, and I feel connected to everyone there. I still visit downhome and sleep in the same farmhouse that's been in the family for generations.
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We live on a little under 2 acres, right outside of town. My husband built our house complete with all the little touches we wanted - a wrap-around porch with oak barrels, rocking chairs, and a porch swing. I hang baskets of flowers from the gingerbread trim, and have pots of flowers on the barrels. new paragraph
The porch overlooks a huge cottage garden, which I should call a wildflower garden now because it is completely wild and out of control. A white picket fence draped in tiny white lights surrounds the garden. A curved, red brick walkway winds through the garden, ending at the front porch steps. new paragraph
Walking down the path and inspecting my flowers provides all kinds of inspiration for my imagination. I spin little stories about little mice wearing polka dotted dressed and aprons. They live in tiny little mushroom houses, hidden beneath the hydrangeas - and only I know they exist. new paragraph
Weathered birdhouses, handmade by my husband, are perched at the top of the pickets, providing a cozy home for the robins and bluebirds. Naturally I have to include the little birds in my stories. At night when the moon is full, the flower fairies come out to do their magic, sprinkling moondust over the garden and surprising me with all sorts of little gifts I find the next morning. new paragraph
My dream is to one day move way out in the country. I love my house and gardens, but we're way to close to the city limits if you ask me. I detest traffic, crowds, even sidewalks, and I'll go out of my way just to take a country road. I wish I could turn down a driveway leading to an old farmhouse and be home. Twenty acres would be nice, but I'll settle for 5. I'd build a Victorian farmhouse, complete with a wrap-around porch and gingerbread trim, but if I could find land that already has a farmhouse I'll take it! new paragraph
Last year for Mother's day I asked my kids to skip the flowers and put the money towards a ukulele. Not even one raised eyebrow. I guess my kids are used to having a mom that is, well, unique. No, let's say special. Anyhow, I have my ukulele and am enjoying learning to play. This year I'm going to ask for more chickens and a custom built chicken coop. I've decided to think of my "specialness" as just part of my charm.
If I was born in the 30's I would have been just the right age in the 40's to wear those awesome dresses, aprons and shoes with my vintage hairdo. I think how different the world was, truly a kinder and gentler place. Even though it was hard work without all our modern inventions and conveniences, people seemed to appreciate things more. Priorities seemed to be in the right place.
When I bake or make jam I wear a handmade apron. Sometimes an apron from my vintage collection, and sometimes one I've made for myself. I also wear it when I wash dishes by hand, of course using a handknit cotton washcloth.
I have about 40 blue ribbons from county fair, and they're proudly displayed in my sewing room. Never in a million years did I think I would ever get even one. I've pretty much learned how to do things well by making every mistake possible, multiple times. But eventually I get it. I'm still amazed when things turn out well.
I enjoy hanging laundry out to dry, old fashioned clothespins and all. My sheets dance with the gentle breeze on the old cotton clothesline, and when I lie in bed at night the "fresh air smell" you can't get from a dryer sheet surrounds me.
The summer sun warms my skin as I work in my garden. My soul is renewed as I inhale that wonderful smell of earth and grass. As I dig into the garden beds, pulling the never ending weeds, I remind myself that mother nature is providing me with a dirt manicure. The sweet sound of the birds singing to me fills the air, and I stop and say a small prayer, thanking God for my blessings.
I have nine chickens, all named for special women in my life, my grandma, aunts, and great aunts. My girls bless me with the most beautiful brown eggs a girl could ask for! Some of the girls lay blue-green eggs as well.
If I could find a vintage 50's trailer, I'd paint it pink and aqua and cover it with polka dots. I would set it behind my farmhouse, next to the flower garden, between two tall oak trees. I'd fill it with handmade quilts and curtains and pillows and vintage crocheted potholders, and decorate it with all the vintage kitschy things I've collected over the years. Life would be perfect. new paragraph
I've dreamed of creating this online community for many years. I've also designed doll, quilt, and clothing patterns and sold them as a small cottage business when I had a houseful of children. Once again, I'm going to my patterns and some finished product for sale as a way to supplement our income.
My sweet sweet husband has Parkinsons, and working as a carpenter/handyman is becoming too difficult as symptoms progress. So here I am, starting a business all over again, except instead of being fresh out of college I'm a grandmother of four.
If you also believe in handmade and long for simpler times, please join me in my adventures. Together we'll celebrate all things handmade. I can't wait to meet you!
