Crafting Historical Significance

My first recollection of being taught a technique of "crafting" was at 7 years old. One of the few memories I hold dear about my grandmother was the infamous --sequin/pin fruit! For some reason she loved it! A very large wooden pineapple held the sacred produce placed proudly on the doily layered middle of her dining room table. She pierced plastic fruit until her finger tips looked and felt like the leather tongue of an old Bass penny loafer. I was fascinated by the colors, and of course at 7, the sparkly fruit was outstanding. As time creeped into her hands, she paid me to make her fruit! She had bunches of apples, bananas, strawberries and peaches...all delicately placed to expose their most natural representation. I have no idea whatever became of the bowl or its contents...but, every time I see a cluster of sequin/pin fruit, layered in dust...I think of her, and the crafting historical significance she played in my future. To think bedazzled plums were the auspicious beginning...

Pen Tales or Pins Tell?

Bowling...now there is a sport my family loves to play. We all stink, but can kill a rainy, snowy afternoon in a bowling alley without any problem. This mini (about 5" tall) bowling pin was obviously a high score or tournament type award for some bowling aficionado. The number "212" is sharpied on the side. Obviously, someone could knock down some pins. Can you imagine the glee of receiving such an award? 212 is only 88 from playing a perfect game...keep in mind I can't score 88 in a game. I found this piece of vintage memorabilia in a yard sale for .25. All those pins that had to go down just to get it...and then the proof of good effort is thrown out amongst the worn out clothes and rusty skillets. Wow, the tales we could pen, or is it the stories the pin could tell?

From Seat To Vase!

This particular piece of art has bothered me from the moment I first laid eyes on it. A local store, owned and operated by a friend, offers framing, some interesting artisan pieces, and wonderful lines of funky jewelry. This dainty piece of steel and iron has hung in her store since the grand opening. It has haunted me...I've hung it in my home (only in my head) numerous times while cleaning and rearranging. So, yesterday I broke down and purchased it.

It exempifies my essence of repurposing. The vase for the flowers was formerly a seat bottom from an old yard glider. It is totally out of proportion...it had no hanger, so my own engineering skills had to figure out a way to mount it...and it came with a layer of dirt and dust. (I don't really think the artist hosed down the chair bottom when he found it on the dump heap.)

It reeks of raw creativity. Which brings me to the point...never close the mind to what can be seen and made...think beyond the obvious. It was a seat...now it's a vase!

Code or No Code!

Just bought my ump-teenth bag of plastic clothes pins of the 1950's! There is nothing more appealing in color and texture; and the reflection in your brain of seeing someone hanging freshly washed clothes out on a line using these little implements of household helpfulness paints a wholesome picture in my brain. I remember as a child one of my chores was to hang the sheets out on the line....hated it! Little did I know this task would be virtually eliminated in my lifetime. The neighborhood in which I live has a "no clotheslines" in the codes handbook. How bizarre is that? I'm not sure if I had a clothesline I would actually hang my clothes on it, but a fresh Spring day might invite the opportunity. Nevertheless...I will maintain the sanctity of this household chore by preserving its key component...code or no code.

Figure It Out!

Our household experienced a little strife last evening over math. I of course, being the mathematician that I am, was not able to add any useful contribution to the frustration over a series of letters and numbers that made absolutely no sense to me. The only definition of pie for me, is a delightful dessert at the end of a great meal accompanied by a yummy glass of milk or cup of coffee. So, as the only voice of reason available at the time, my roll became the cheerleader. I encouraged her to do her best and she would figure it out. I took her to this photo and reminded her....everyone figures it out!

27 Dresses & 56 Gallons!

Yesterday was filled with golf for Dad and Ma-Da (Mother & Daughter) for us. After little debate the Ma-Da sisterhood went to our favorite deli for lunch and off to see "27 Dresses". We laughed, giggled, followed it up with some shopping and home for homework. Just a terrific day!

The scene with the closet bursting of tulle and taffeta brought back some fond...yet, unnerving memories for myself. Being a card carrying, charter member of the Pack Rat Society; discarding, or donating or getting rid of, or passing on, my only daughter's cute little dresses and clothes was quite difficult for me. I felt this overwhelming need to keep everything. Now, when asked, "why?"...I had no legitimate, logical or semi-intelligent answer. Just the typical response that a card carrying, charter member of the Pack Rat Society might have, "I might need it someday."

My hoarding phobia was not for every little dress...it was for whatever article of clothing she deemed her "favorite". So, this could be overalls, jammies, certain personal items (clue: days of the week), play clothes and certainly special dresses. I wanted to keep it all!!! Now as a one year old the infamous 56 gallon Rubbermaid tub is not too difficult to store...but as children do...she grew, her size grew and my ability to store multiple 56 gallon Rubbermaid tubs shrunk significantly. I felt myself adding on to my home through the PODS system. There was no way this could continue. An intervention was needed.

I remember reading a parenting magazine featuring other parents suffering from this phobia, and I decided to take their advice. "Get Rid Of It".....you will not need it....EVER! Although primitive and certainly not something I hadn't heard before...I reluctantly began to figure out a way to heed their advice. They suggested archiving it with a picture. Great idea, but not a good substitution for someone like myself who enjoys the texture and feel of fabrics and notions. I needed a little piece of the history. So, I initiated an archival meeting with my daughter (she was 5 at the time) and we began to hull down the favorites.

My answer to everything is frame it! I then found a scrapbook template for a dress and cut out one for each article of clothing she LOVED! We saved some buttons...trim...added some written history along the edge of the dress...glued them to a mat board, and archived our clothing history in frames. This became the art for her room for years. Now that she is a teenager...it is my art for years, less the fourteen 56 Gallon Rubbermaid tubs.

The Domino Effect!

Do you ever feel like you are domino number 17 in a series of 89...someone just pushed number 1...and you have a sense of what your future holds? Well, today my fellow blogger Lynn at http://www.lifeatcedarhill.blogspot.com/ was no doubt the pushee of domino number 1. She so nicely chatted about my blog to her entourage' of loyal comrades and the series of kind comments are falling like dominoes! I have had the largest morale boosting day ever experienced in quite a while! This is a gleaming example defining the 'domino effect'. I can't thank Lynn enough for sharing me with her friends. Please check out her blog.

During this process today, I had a big mystery question pop into my noggin'..."why domino..what is the origin?" So, I got my handy dandy book out...Why Do We Say It? and looked it up. Your trivia/Who wants to Be A Millionaire answer for the day is: The monks of a French monastery who invented it gave the game its name. The winner of the game was expected to recite the first line of the vesper service, "Dixit Dominus, Domino Meo." "Domino" is just a shortened form of this line. There you have it...new wrinkle for the day. All this time I just liked the look...the feel...the nostalgia of an old game...and watching the effects of gravity playing its role in knocking them over. Unknowing the origin of such a simple wooden rectangle with dots defines so many different experiences.

So, in honor of the domino, I thank Lynn, her friends, the many other bloggers who have popped in, the monks and the effect of such a game. May you all at some point get to be number 17 in a series of 89!