Bring on the Hearts!

Hearts

It’s that time of year—Spring is hinting it will return, bringing sunshine, flowers and warm breezes. Summer will be pushing behind at its heels. Before Spring even arrives I can already see its eager effects—almost half of my backyard is visible again, as if it's throwing off its winter-white blanket and preparing ready to jump up and dance around again. 

I'll be dancing with it! 

I can hear the whisper of water dripping through my downspouts as the snow overhead thaws. It’s saying, “I've been on this lonesome roof way too long. I’m heading downstream to lounge in the lake before I soar overhead in a puffy white cloud and look for a lofty mountain stream to explore."

My son has been looking at his bike with longing—another sign of Spring—and today started it up with a roar!

I’m glad Valentine’s Day comes in February—a cold winter month that sometimes is socked in by fog, ice storms, snow or drizzly rain clouds. Valentines arrives dressed in happy pinks with sweet reminders that the garden will soon be dressed in similar shades. 

Usually I bake and frost cookies, but this year I’ve decided to skip it. I’ve been making hearts a little differently the past few days…

This year I’ve been hard at work helping my little Grand prepare for her preschool party. For her personalized valentines we chose blue—the color of Spring skies, and added hints of pink, her favorite color.

How to make little denim rag heart pockets for Valentine’s giving:

* It’s simple—no special pattern is needed at all. Just fold a paper in half and cut out a heart. Everyone learned that basic technique before fourth grade. If you don’t like your first attempt, adjust things and make the second one longer, leaner, fatter, smaller, fuller, or whatever you wish. Just make sure it's big enough to hold a love note and treat after it's assembled.
  
* Cut a fabric front and back from old jeans (washed and dried first). Cut out a pocket for the front, using the bottom of the same paper heart pattern. Be sure to add enough to the top edge for turning it under if you don’t want a raw edge and frays topping your pocket. I added ½ inch. The pocket can have seams and other details from the fabric in it. Play with it and be creative! Make sure it's deep enough to hold what you're planning to hide inside.

  * Cut a thin layer of dacron batting (leftover quilt batting), making it about ½ inch smaller all the way around than the fabric. 

   One pocket above was made using the waistband and nearby little coin pocket. 

The other pocket came from a top-stitched seam and has 

an added little pocket with a button for trim. I finished off the top of the pockets with a rolled hem.

Take care when you're sewing near rivets and through several layers of fabric!

 Now it’s assembly time!

   * Lay everything out on the table so you know what each finished heart will look like. I finished off all the little front pockets before I tackled assembling the hearts. This is where you'll spend a lot of your time if you're not finishing off all the front pockets the same.

*  Here's how you'll finish off the pockets: Finish off the top edge of the front pocket. If you used a waistband or hem, that’s already done for you. For my hemmed pockets I rolled the top under ¼ inch, and then another ¼ inch and sewed along the (inside) edge. I rolled twice because I wanted a clean edge without any fraying.
  
* Next, decorate the pocket any way you’d like. I used leftover scraps of lace, ribbon, buttons, sequins, rick-rack, etc. On some I made tiny pockets from denim or felt. Add bows, buttons, etc. If you want a Velcro closing, add that now to the pocket and the front of the heart.

    *  To assemble: Place the back of the heart with the wrong side facing up on the table; place the batting on top; place the top of the heart on top of the batting; and last, place the pocket on top of everything. You get the idea, everything is stacked and looks like the way it will be when it's sewn together. The is NO turning things inside out. If you need to pin everything together in a few places go ahead. This is a rag heart, so don’t over stress if things aren’t perfectly aligned. (If you want a loop for hanging the heart, add it now using ribbon or a sewn length of fabric.) Play with the decorative pocket and have fun adding your own touches!

*  Sew around the edge about ½ - ¾ inches from the outside. I started at the top of the V in the heart. When I reached the V again, I set my needle ¼ inch inside the first stitching line and stitched around again using my foot as the distance guide. The inside stitching should catch the batting if the outer stitching didn’t. Don’t fret if the batting isn’t caught all the way around. (In the above photo you only see the the inside stitching line around the top, but see both stitching lines along the side below the pocket.)

Now that you have a cute little heart with a pocket for holding treats, you might think you’re finished. But this is a rag heart, so let’s continue on:

    * Clip the outside edges toward the stitching line. I spaced my snips ¼ inch or less apart. A couple of my snips on one of the hearts cut through the outer stitching, but that’s just fine. There’s a second row of stitching that defines the heart shape—and this is a rag heart!

    *  Toss the finished hearts into the washer and dryer with a similar colored load of clothes. The edges will fray a little and give the heart a soft, well-loved rag look.

   *  Add additional trim if desired. (Below, the ribbon bow was added to a belt loop on the pocket after washing.)

 

    * Add the final finishing touch by stuffing with goodies and adding a tag. Wow! You’re ready to give a sweet little surprise to someone special. 

It was cute watching my little Grand help choose the way she wanted the hearts trimmed. We were limited by scraps of this and that, although it was amazing to discover we had plenty of things around—like gold sequins—which she fell in love with, that challenged my creativity for a moment before I realized there is no right or wrong. She loved tossing the hearts into the washer as I finished snipping them. It took her forever (no exaggeration) to write her name on each tag.

Head’s up: This took time. Yup, time, including a trip to Wal-Mart for a little $.88 bag of buttons and a spool of polka dot ribbon ribbon. Other than that, once the hearts were all cut out, designed and laid out, the final assembly went quickly. Um, in my opinion (I sew, and I had free time...). Suggestion: While they are washing and drying you can fix dinner, clean the house and get the homework not only underway,  but completely finished, kids bathed and ready for bed…

Hope you have a sweet Valentine’s Day!

Remember, it's not about the "valentine" or the sweet treats.

It's all about LOVE

 

The Color Brown

Have you ever looked at the color brown? I have at least five different shades of it on the walls of my home, and that doesn't count all the hue changes cast by sunlight and shadows. I'm talking five (FIVE!) shades of brown paint in one house.

Hop aboard and I'll take you on a little house tour. First stop: The master bedroom and bath. Meet Sherwin Williams Divine White. It's not white, but a pale cool brown shade. See how "dark" it looks up by my white ceiling and white sheers? I have it in two whole rooms: bedroom and attached bathroom. It's soft, quiet, calm, relaxing and fresh. I'll probably use it in my next home.

Next stop: the exact opposite shade. I love my dark chocolate brown--my favorite flavor. It's called Nuthatch, and I love it. I left my comfy computer chair to find the paint can in order to share that detail. This deep brown gives the same soft quiet calm whether during a freezing winter storm or on a scorching summer day. It's in my kitchen, on two of my great room walls, and in a bedroom.

Parts of my house have other brown shades, so let's continue the tour. The dining "sun" room has Bittersweet Root. It's also in an upstairs bedroom, the halls, a bathroom and the laundry room. It has the same softness, in my humble opinion, and offers good contrast to white trim and doesn't overpower any accent colors but provides them with a perfect setting. My son's bedroom is this color and offsets his black furniture and the white trim well. Gotta love that!

Now comes the fun where colors meet colors at corners and with greater variety. Let's descend the stairs. The white column separating two colors was hard to photograph in a way that shows both the changes of browns, or their sameness. That's good, because I didn't want the exact same color downstairs, but a happy union where they met. The lower left portion of the photo is a called Kilm Beige, and the other sections are Bittersweet Stem. Most of the basement is Kilm Beige except....

...except for the bathroom and this room. The room below is Muslin. It's lighter and has a yellowish cast. It's pretty nondescript, and isn't that the object--to not make the walls stand out as if they should steal all the glory in a room? Like, let the room be glorious with and despite the walls?

That brings me to the purpose of this post. I'm deep into staging my home to sell. Should I paint this room? This serves as a combined office that I share with my adult son. I'm seriously tired of the color. I've had it covering walls in this house and a house from 17 years ago. Is that enough Muslin, I'm wondering? 

They say when you stage a house you should use neutral colors. I'm debating whether I should go through the work, expense and time to paint this room, or leave it. Who knows--don't some, or most, or at least a few home buyers repaint anyway? That's what I did. Maybe I'm not the usual, though.

So here comes the fun part: My son works from home, therefore, he practically lives in the office. I only visit when I find time or have to do something like keep up on records like budgeting or taxes. My son also works as a photo editor. He plays with colors on his computer all day long. And lines. And perfection. Being his mom, I asked for a tiny favor. Rather than grab a tester can of paint, I emailed a photo to him to play with. 

Without leaving home, or spending a penny, and after only ten seconds of my son's time, I'm now playing with a bluish shade of grey...

And a purer shade of blue...

What do you think?

Two shades: that's all my son would put up with. He skipped every other color I requested, and I never mentioned pink. "Mom! Please don't make me help you paint," he begged. I know it also meant, "Please don't make me unplug all the computers and printers and move furniture and hook everything back up when we're done. Please don't put my work behind schedule and interrupt my gaming time. Please, please, please, have mercy on me, mom!"

I have a lot to think about after I post this and leave my happy little office to brush a second coat of paint over the touch-up spots I've been working on around the house today.

Note: All paint is Sherwin Williams. The white trim is Alabaster.

Clichés: Love & Hate (Well, just unlove, sometimes.)

I love them and unlove them--clichés.

Just so you don't misunderstand what I'm talking about, let me define cliché, but only after I share a few I remembered as I washed laundry, tidied a closet, fixed lunch, etc. as I planned this post. After I jog your memory, recognizing clichés will be as easy as pie. 

• Fit as a fiddle
• Tougher than nails
• Squeal like a pig
• Lost his marbles
• Down in the dumps
• A heart of gold
• Out of the frying pan and into the fire
• A diamond in the rough
• Neat as a pin
• Walk in the park
• Pushing up daisies
• Sing a different tune
• Over the hill
• When my ship comes in
• Scared out of her wits
• Beat around the bush
• Like death warmed over
• Spin a yarn
• When nature calls
• Had me in stitches
• Faster than the speed of light
• Sail off into the sunset
• Made out of money
• Cat got your tongue
• Laughed my head off
• Laughed all the way to the bank
• Rough around the edges
• They lived happily ever after

Everyone has heard dozens of clichés and used at least that many themselves. I'd bet my life on it. Anyway, here is my basic definition: 


cliché =  a phrase used over and over until it has a common meaning that is easily recognized and understood by most people. Usually they originated from a phrase that was new, fresh, clever and descriptive which added insight in a deeper, or funnier, or more interesting way. Being used until well known, they soon grow stale. Most writing experts refer to them as trite, boring and deadly. 

Skimming my list you quickly realized their visceral impact. No one can actually be as lucky as a duck or as happy as a lark, but it paints an intriguing picture--the person perched on a twig swaying in the breeze and chirping their little heart out in joy, or a duck doing whatever it takes for a duck to be lucky! (Um, I have no clue what that would be!) My grandpa admired storytelling and could recall and share tales in a way that had me sitting on the edge of my chair listening for hours. I saw and felt what he said because of how he said it. Some stories I'll never forget, or the way he'd pause to laugh with us, or lean forward to draw us closer. Cliches never started out weary, they had life and vitality and were creative like my grandpa. When first used, clichés were creative ways to inspire glued to the spot type listening like your life depended upon it. 

Some cliche's may remain alive and kicking forever. We'll use them--those three or four word phrases--to say a thousand words or conjure up a hundred images. They'll keep our lives simple and succinct, and perhaps less uncomplicated and better understood.

For example, have I ever been scared half to death? Possibly, but I'm not sure. I have been frozen in place. Literally. Between a snowmobile and a buffalo. I stared death in the face, or maybe that was just the buffalo. No matter which, I'm certain I wasn't half dead. There was too much heart-pumping fear going on and thinking I'd die, and how painful it could be, and wondering how they'd get my broken body out from under those hooves.

Even though we seem to have heard the same cliches a million times, it doesn't mean we understand them. As a kid I asked about pitch. I'd only heard of musical pitch--my dad and mom both sang in the church choir, my sister and brother were learning how to play the piano, and my dad tuned his guitar. Confused, I wondered how middle C and treble notes equaled blackness. Was scary music as black as pitch? A a youngster how was I to know anything about an oozing tar-like resin distilled from trees? That blackness was a sticky, clingy, can't see through it or past it substance that incited fear, which denotes a deeper meaning than a visual black color. See why cliches are so popular? It takes fewer words to say something and allows the reader or listener to assign a personal level of power and meaning that is impossible for the speaker or writer to convey.

What about pie? My first pie looked terrible. It tasted one inch this side of heaven, but it was not easy to look at, easy to make, or easy to serve with a smile.

Although cliche's seem to be commonly understood, obviously they have limitations, besides being overused until we want to curl up and die when we hear or read them yet again. Brainless repetition bores us to death.
 

I once had a neighbor who loved clichés so much that her speech was littered with them to the point that if I didn’t carefully listen, I’d have no clue what she said. And then one day it happened—she totally lost me. One cliché melded into the next and I had no idea when one ended and the next began. I didn’t share her background or know all of her clichés so it sounded like she was speaking disconnected words without pauses or periods. It equaled a giant language barrier. I took Spanish in high school. When I visited Italy I was able to navigate the language barrier rather well, much to my delight. Listening to her was like trying to use my poor Spanish abilities to understand Chinese. I felt like crying out, "stop beating around the bush and say it like it is!" I held my piece (or is that I held my peace?) and left totally clueless.

Background and exposure determine whether a cliche is understandable, although some have been around so long and are so uniformly understood that no one knows where or how the cliché began. When I had hens they sometimes got wet in a sudden downpour if they didn't run fast enough into their coop. But I never saw one acting mad. It's hard for me to visualize, but it must be memorable! And pushing up daisies? Yuck! I don't enjoy visualizing a bony hand six feet under planting a flower patch from underneath (after breaking through their coffin...). My kids have given me funny looks after I've spouted a cliché they didn't understand. Huh? What is mom saying?

I see four problems with cliche's: 1.) Some need interpreting. 2.) Some sound absolutely stupid and beg for originality. 3.) Some don't match what you're intending to say.  4.) Some muddy up the water, instead of offer insight.

Why this post? A few days ago I needed to point someone out to someone. I wondered how I'd describe the person. Oh this should be easy, I thought to myself. After all, I define and describe characters for my novels all the time. I'm proficient at this. 

Later, as I shoveled snow with no one watching, especially my husband and son who would get madder than two old wet hens if they saw me, I mentally played with clichés for describing a character and discovered I'm well versed in them. It was disappointing until I challenged myself to rework descriptions. Shoveling in freezing rain turned into a lot of analyzing of cliches and my characters. I had tons of mental fun. Someday, in one of my books, possibly the one I'm working on now, instead of using clichés I'm going to use this description for one of my characters:

He looked like he'd eaten a dozen lemons 

when he should have chosen prunes.

I already know who will get the honor. It's someone I've mentioned but haven't fully introduced yet. I've been picking him apart for a while now, and the above fits him to a tea.

Will I personally give up cliches? Not on your life! Unlike some critics, I believe they have a time and place. We need them. We will continually create them. They are language links. They produce movement and change. They provide constancy and familiarity. They are a distinct voice. Happy are they who create them, whether accidentally or intentionally. Yup, clichés are here to stay.

 One of my Grands sleepin' like a baby...

House Staging Blahs, and Highlights

At the moment I'm deep into house staging blahs. I love the decorating part, and the cleaning part doesn't bother me, but the continual, constant, never-ending thinking, planning, remembering, and then executing part at times overwhelms me. Therefore, it's time for help today. 

I had second thoughts about raiding my hidden, unknown, secret stash of chocolate. The first thought was, "Yes, do it!" The second thought was, "I can buy more to replace it, so why not? This is an emergency." To wash it down I pulled out a 2-litre bottle of Dr. Pepper and carried it halfway across the house to fetch a glass of ice cubes. I'm happy to report I did an about-face and returned the Dr. Pepper to it's emergency spot. That was incredible willpower, seeing how I'm only halfway through day 6 without liquid caffeine.

Dr. Pepper and chocolate are not locked away in my home, but I'm tempted to lock up a few other places. That occurred to me after I'd built up steam before I found lock and key sets in my husband's bathroom drawer. Immediately I was temped to lock up all of his drawers--after I clean them--and many other areas, too. Until our house is sold I almost wish I could, but I won't. I like, love and live with wonderful people, and I don't want to damage relationships.

After cleaning my top bathroom drawer I decided to tackle my husband's top two drawers. How hard can that be, I wondered? After all, I'd tossed out makeup I'd sampled but hadn't used in many months, and I didn't even cry. Feeling confident, I pulled open my husband's top drawer. Mouth agape, I shut it. (Sorry, no photo.) I whipped open his second drawer, eager to conquer something--anything--!
  

I shut the drawer, only to open it again for a historic photo session. Meet my husband's second drawer, which will remain like this until I gather more courage or he tackles it himself. While we're at it, also meet my Grand's bedroom before I tackled it last week...

It took all day to organize, put together shelves, and get it picture perfect and ready for staging. The best part is that it has stayed that way. Yes, there is picking up to be done daily, but the kids love having hooks for their jackets and bags, a bin for their own shoes (no more sharing a box), and plenty of places for toys.

I love these wire shelves. (Now I sound like an ad, but it's really just excitement.) They are easy to assemble and sturdy, but are also lightweight. My favorites are the taller shelves. The three-shelf unit shown in my grandson's closet is also perfect placed under a clothing rod in an adult's closet with shirts and pants hanging above it. 

Yes, I'm kind of a neat-freak. I love order, and although I can't maintain it 100% of the time, I do always keep my home pretty tidy. (I live with other humans who aren't afflicted with my disease, and who daily live like they want to prove it). I keep it tidy, basically. Most of the time. Except those rare moments, when someone comes further inside my home than usual and happens to witness chaos. Oddly, those are also moments when I'm not sick and don't have a visible, detectable excuse. 

Back to staging--the not so great part about it, like the little nit-picky things... 
 
I love my stairs with this big window, plant shelf and landing. Many years ago my husband and I took out the floor and put in the stairs. It was scary. I mean terrifying scary. How many people do you know who attack their front room floor with big plans and a circular saw? Following lots of measuring we measured some more, marked, propped, cut, and grew excited. Success followed. The hole opened up our home in amazing ways. Previously the access to the basement was through the kitchen and into a tiny narrow hallway with three doors: one leading to a coat closet, another to the garage, and the last one to the basement stairs. Trying to go to the basement was like hoping to win a game show. What's behind door number one--a party? No, a musty closet full of old boots and coats! Every house needs one, but you lose! No rootbeer floats or pizza inside! If we ever finished off the basement and threw a party, every guest had to traipse through the kitchen, hope they selected the correct door, and then make their way down the extremely narrow and dark stairway into the party hall. I had nightmares of trying to carry a platter of hor d' oeuvres down as someone raced up. In slow motion follow along: Head meet elbow. Pate meet face. Everything meet carpeted stairs. Everyone trip, fall, slip and slide. Clatter. Clang. Cuss. Eventually we did finish off the basement and hosting parties became natural and fun.

Basically, most days the new (8-year old) stairs are the party. My Grands "snowboard" down the side hanging onto the railing. This pair actually do it barefoot so it needs minimal fixing up, but it still needs a little work. BTW: the old stairwell's gaping black hole magically received a floor and we transformed the space into a walk-in pantry about 10 feet deep and located right behind the kitchen. It's perfect!

Staging really is fun. It makes me smile. Cleaning does too. I guess the hard part is thinking about the parting. The separation of Place and Fulfilled Dreams. I haven't yet discovered where I'm going, so new dreams haven't begun flowing. Until that happens, all of my living is currently wrapped up in this home, and oddly, past homes, too. Thankfully, mostly the best of those homes. I've been wandering through family memories as I stage. Of laughter. Plans. Growing kids. Neighbors. Achievements. The satisfaction of daily living, family gatherings, good friendships, successes, trials met and overcome.... 

This--life--the stepping from one phase to the next--has become wrapped up in the staging. 

I wipe down a wall and remember the bird cage that once stood in the corner. The bird is long gone--given to a niece--but without effort the forgotten memory flew home. I open the door leading into the garage to grab a mop and in flows a flood of memories of when we prepared the motorcycle for an epic journey to Canada. I hadn't expected the excitement to rush through the door like that! The door is now hard to shut physically, but it's impossible to do so mentally, and I don't want to. So I mop and vacuum and dust in my home while also in Calgary at the stampede, in Waterton by the lake, in Vancouver. Another time I drive down my driveway to head to the store to buy a new shower curtain to replace a wilted looking one, but suddenly I find myself seeing everything around me as when I first arrived in my Happy Little Village 12 years ago. I see again what I've seen for years now, and also everything new that has crept in. All the timelessness. Every apple tree. Fields where deer browsed and napped. My eyes become glued to the mountains and sky as if I'll never see them the same again. I may only move down the road, but I could find myself in the next valley, so I memorize everything!

Yes, staging my home is hard. I've had to change my mindset. House. House. House, I repeat. This is a house. I'm letting go of home and returning this structure to house. My house still, but still, house. Wood, windows, and brick. Staging is a very deep mental and emotional process. I'm staging space between walls--the middle space between yesterday and today, and the unseen and unknown tomorrow. In my heart I'm battling between hanging on and letting go.

Because I love this home, staging to sell is hard. So I'm attempting to stage a happy ending here.   

  

 Above

View of a late September snowstorm descending on Lone Peak. This weather is similar to what we experienced the day we moved here. Our side porch is a perfect place to watch storms roll past and to hear the bells chime on the hour in our Happy Little Village.