It's Cyber Monday and I'd like to know who coined that hideous term. There's nothing wrong with internet shopping, but Cyber Monday sounds like an evil robotic cyborg named Monday who sucks cash out of your wallet and leaves you empty and staring in disbelief at the confirmation emails. In response, my Cyber Monday offering is handmade. Hand-painted. Stitched by hand. And it's on sale.Read More
Yes, we are back in the 1960s. Isn't it so pretty? Like every other trend, holiday decorating goes in cycles, and the current one is less about red and green and more about sparkle and shine. As you can see from this series of photos (everything available in the shop, of course) I am leaning towards soft shades of turquoise warmed up with aged gold.
It has taken some time to track down all these vintage holiday items. Most of it is from the 1950s-60s and when I see it at estate sales, I pounce.Read More
I am in the very fortunate position to have a bestie who lives next door. The value of this situation cannot be overstated. When I run out of something -- eggs, vodka, patience, ice for the vodka -- Stacey rescues me. She lends me lifesaving necessities like statement necklaces, extra bedrooms for the in-laws, a car. A condo. She lets me hide giant gifts in her garage on Christmas Eve. Is there anything she doesn't do?Read More
I love text as art and so do a lot of people these days. Mottos as fashion statements or design elements are everywhere -- on pillows, t-shirts, phone cases, as tattoos, in wall collages, on babies' onesies. Maybe these cheeky catchphrases resonate because we regularly condense our communication. We put a lot of heart and soul into tweets, texts, snaps, etc. Does this mean that we glorify the shallowness of slogans? Probably. So, to celebrate the glorification of throwaway sentiments, I'm here to show you how to make your own creed to adorn any pretty little thing. It's fun and easy and yes, it peels right off. It's temporary, which I suppose means that it is shallow.Read More
When I was in the sixth grade, I wrote a play called "A Thanksgiving to Remember." My wonderful teacher, Mr. Hombaker, agreed to stage it for the parents of Room 117. The plot was an eleven-year-old's version of Little House on the Prairie meets The Waltons, with plenty of woolen clothing, blizzards, meagre rations, and general misery on the plains. I don't know how to describe how horrible this play was. Truthfully, the only action that took place involved the characters setting the table, speaking a few lines like, "sure hope Pa's oxen team blah blah blah" and then clearing the table. Plates on. Plates off. Plates on. Plates off. I remember overhearing some first-grader in the front row groan to his mom, "Not the dishes again!"
My fascination with a well laid table has not abated since.Read More
Anyone in a clown mask can frighten a small child. In my family, little kids are what we call low-hanging fruit. Today's prank is the equivalent of a ladder to the top branches of the apple tree where the teens hang out. Teens make the best Halloween victims because they hate to show fear in front of adults -- it is a sign of weakness, an acknowledgment that we still have influence on them.Read More