Where you Find Your Inspiration

You find your inspiration in the oddest places.  This week I was inspired by a TV show:  American Horror Story-Coven.  The show started off this week in the swamps of Louisiana.  The scene involves a character in a floaty hippy dress and shawl with layers necklaces and smokey eyes.  Fleetwood Mac music haunts in the background.  Just a delicious episode riddled with reference to Stevie Nicks.

I grew up in the 70’s-80’s and I fondly recall coming home from school, a very happy latch-key kid, and laying in the dining room where the stereo was and wearing the grooves off of my parents Fleetwood Mac Rumors album.  I carried the band and Stevie with me from album to cassette to CD to iTunes right up until today as a favorite.  I love the haunting voice and poetic lyrics that Stevie  does as only she can.

There’s that vein in me that loves lace and funky boots, necklaces and the sweet remembrance of how people in the 70’s looked at love and intimacy that seems so far removed now.  When talk of the tall grass, mountains, mirror in the sky, and night birds were as tangible in song as they are in real life.  Before texts and blogs and face time we had sitting around a living room (or laying in a dining room)  and having soulful talks with great music.

This has inspired my painted piece this week.  Dusky lavender with gypsy print accent and gypsy gold.  Here are a few pics…it’s not done and I am breaking a cardinal rule by posting a pic of the (yuk) garage (AKA my Fancy Studio).  I’m still knocking it around with my “purty sticks” but you get the idea.

Gotta run, at some point I have to go in and cook dinner and let the dog (with the breath that’s worse than Satan’s skidmarks) out.

How it starts

How it starts

In Progress

In Progress

“Wait a minute baby, stay with me a while
Said you’d give me light but you never told me about the fire

Drowning in the sea of love where everyone would love to drown
But now it’s gone, it doesn’t matter what for
When you build your house then call me, ‘Home””

Lyrics from Fleetwood Mac’s    Sara

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Voodoo Dolls and Teenagers

I started painting a loooong time ago when by boys were toddlers.  I faux finished beautiful custom homes during the construction boom.  I have been making and doing since I was a teenager.  I stopped for a while when my kids were small because I couldn’t find time to wear a decent outfit  much less paint.  As their pre-teen years approached I felt my morph to the garage some since I wasn’t afraid to leave them in the house alone.  I was wrong, of course, as evidenced by my coming in one day to my 12-year-old, with a can of hair spray, a straw and a lighter (making a flame thrower like the one he saw on Youtube.)  I yelled at him for wasting my good hairspray and went on about my business.

Over time, my tweens became teens and I was glad to have my painting as I rose on the weekend and the man and boys slept until 2:00 p.m.  I enjoyed my radio and the outside and found my company in Annie Sloan, Martha Stewart and some gal with the last name Behr.    My boys used to make fun of my hobby saying that shabby chic was stupid and they hated the old furniture in the garage.  They shamed me for my hoard at every turn.  When people came to pick something up they’d scowl off waiting for a grilled cheese and wonder how anyone would like the things I painted.  I made voodoo dolls of them and made their butts itch and shaved off an eyebrow.

Funny how the jeers stopped when we took the first vacation we had in 16 years, last year, because of my painting, my peace, the thing that sets me free.

I’m full-on in the throes of raising two high-school boys.  Painting and crafting still takes me to my happy place in so many ways.  I hope you have found your happy-place as well.

Here are some things I’ve done in the last few:

dressernight standombreharlequin Drexel dresser

Cupcakes and The Women Who Lurve Them

cupcake

This week had a theme…  CuPcAkEs!!    It started with a friend and I trying a new cupcake place in town (we are medical reps and we do a lot of goodie-giving so a new cupcake place sounded like a good thing to check out…for work…of course.)  We went.  The cakes were MEH but the icing was FAB! (Is it gross to order a pound of icing?  Okay, then a pound of icing, please.)

Fast forward to today.  That same friend and I are having lunch and discussing a  promotional item we could make from an idea on Pinterest  involving  cupcakes in a mason jar. (I know, who wouldn’t want to get an afternoon goodie with all THAT happiness in a toteable jar?!)  My friend told me at lunch that she had lab tests done this morning.  One of which was an A1C test, which if you don’t know, is a test for glucose (Diabetes).  My friend was offended that her doctor prescribed this test.  OFFENDED.  My friend is a nurse and ate cupcakes all week (and pasta, with me, right before a lab test) and was offended.  I said, “You are offended?”  She said, “Yes”.  I laughed and told her to throw her arm up on the table and I squeezed around the cupcakeyness of it and said, “Really, bitch…you’re offended?”  We laughed and laughed.  My friend told me that her doctor was super healthy and had offered to have my friend stay with her at her house for a month to embrace the healthy lifestyle and train with her and her  super-healthy husband.

I immediately tuned out my friend with a mental image of her hiding in the guestroom closet cranking out shameful looking and tasting cupcakes from an Easy Bake Oven hidden skillfully in the back of the closet.  I pictured my friend going batshit crazy when the sad little light bulb that actually does the cooking in the Easy Bake Oven poops out.  I can just see her busting through the shuttered closet doors like the Incredible Hulk looking for that good icing, or a mason jar full of cupcakes or even one of those Ho-Ho-Ring-Ding things.

I promised my friend that if she got bad news from her test and had to adopt a new lifestyle, and forced to wave goodbye to chocolate covered yum-yums that I would join her.  It’s what you do with friends.  That, and offer shovels and plastic sheeting and alibi assistance when needed…

Fugly Fraternal Twins

I have a problem.  I like chairs.  Chairs are so interesting and have so much personality.  Old chairs are the best, they come from a time when the wood was real and the people who made them were craftspeople and artisans…not some dude who staples presswood to other presswood wearing earbuds and waitng for the time clock to tick.  These two particular chairs were hideous and putrid green.  They were ornry too.  I tried stripping them and they fought back, sending me for a triage and tetnus party before I asked the upholsterer to strip them so I could pick them up again and paint them.  They sat in my garage a long time.  I just knew that the work and expense to make them lovely wasn’t what I was feeling in the spring, summer, fall…..

One day I started the painting and got my revenge on the twins with distressing and waxing and fauxing years of character onto their wooden bones as if punishment were the only thing these two knew.  Happy with the result,  I labored over the fabric and decided that I wanted a clean palette of french linen and a European look.  I think, aside from our toil and bloodshed, they turned out to be quite serene and civilized!  These have taken yet another ride- to the Vintage Warehouse Lakeland and are ready for their new forever home where they promise to behave.