I decided to feature Lisa’s work today as one of my top 5 inspirational sources.  I stumbled across her work about a year ago and fell in love with her work.  Now I regularly visit her website and Etsy shop to see what she’s up to.

If you get a few minutes, go check out her website and Etsy shop.  Even better, support her business with YOUR business!  Here’s a small sampling of her work.  It’ll bring out the girly kid in ya!

Here are a few pics of my hand-painted Christmas village.  This is my first year setting everything up, so I’m still tweaking the layout.  I feel like a Blog Snail this year…all pokey and whatnot. 

The holiday making of stuff is in full swing ’round here and the tree is coming right after Turkey Day.  Mmmmaybe even two of them.  Oh!  So here’s a quick run-down of what I’ve been up to:

Embellished tea-towels.  Found these plain ole towels at the Dollar Tree and embellished the fool out of them. 

Cali and I strung some beads on chenille pipe cleaners and hot glued them to plastic tumblers…I guess they’re supposed to be trees.  We spent the rest of the day goofin’ off:

I personally think the now defunct Wunderlee Candy Company (of Philadelphia) needs to reimburse me for approximately 12 tooth cavities that have been filled and re-filled over the years from excessive consumption of their candy corn. They’re the ones who started the whole mess. What was THAT ‘Aha’ moment like? I mean, it was the 1880’s….people weren’t exactly forward-thinkers. The big kahuna boss man, George Renninger, came up with the brilliant idea. Here’s my theory. I think George had diverticulitis. Anyone who knows anything about something knows that corn is the arch enemy of the diverticula. So he figured he’d change a couple of ingredients and develop a corn more suited to the afflicted colon. Of course, he’s probably responsible for 1/3 of our nation’s diabetic population, but who cares! You can’t stay mad at the Candy Man!

I’ve been having a love-affair with candy since conception. My Mother, however, found sugar to be a carnal sin and forbade it as such. You know how your parents have those “I was so poor….” stories? Well, I have one too. Only I’m not poor. I’m deprived. “I was so deprived that instead of ice-cream with Hershey’s syrup, I had to eat ice-milk with wheat germ.”  Oh, you think I’m playing?  Surely I do not jest.  But there’s one particularly cruel moment that stands out. 

I don’t remember the year….I may have been 9 or 10 years old.  We lived on a road that ended in a cul de sac. There was one rule that had been agreed upon by all the parents:  DO NOT GO PAST THE STOP-SIGN!  As far as we knew, life didn’t exist past the stop sign.  But I knew there was manna from heaven over there.  I’d stand, one hand on the stop sign pole, one toe just past the line of demarcation, luxuriating in my rebellion.  So every Halloween, we’d be emphatically reminded to stay within the boundaries of the Deprived Kid Compound.  To deliberately break this rule would result in a punishment so heinous, it didn’t need details.  We knew, though.  They didn’t have to spell it out.  We knew disobedience would result in death. 

But that year, I felt brave.  Strong, even!  I’d won the spelling bee a month earlier and things were looking promising in the science department.  I figured I deserved a higher level of freedom.  While all those involved would beg to differ, my crime was not premeditated.  I can’t remember my costume…but I do remember that I carried a pillow-case for a candy sack.  So I must have subconsciously known what was about to commence.   I followed the herd of kids around to each other’s house, making snide remarks about those who only passed out Sweet Tarts. 

“Why don’t you just give us a wad of paper towels?  Or smack us in the face!  Sweet Tarts are monetary proof  that you could care less about children.” 

So we’d all made the loop and ended up in front of my house, which happened to be snuggled up to the church that my Dad pastored, commonly referred to as “The Parsonage”.  We’d all sit on the church steps, eye-balling each other’s candy, wishing there was more…KNOWING there was more on the other side of The Sign.  I’d like to think I was viewed as heroic that year.  I stood, tossing my sack over my shoulder like Santa’s delinquent sister.  I made my way towards The Sign, knowing in the deepest part of my rear-end that once I was past….there was no going back.  As I crossed the threshold into the Land of Untapped Candy, I heard my angelic brother call out:

“You’re gonna get in TROUBLE!!!  She is so much in trouble bad she doesn’t even know it.” 

I don’t remember much after that.  I do remember it was dusky when I embarked and pitch black when I returned.  And in that amount of time, I had canvased the entire town of Groveport.  My pillowcase was engorged.  My feet were blistered.  I crammed candy down my gullet like a Nathan’s Hot Dog contender, knowing that when I returned home, there’d be no fatted calf awaiting me…only confiscation and death. 

Obviously, the threat of death was nothing but a smoke-screen to hide their true cruel intent.  I was tongue lashed black and blue while my brother stood by with a strange mix of horror, fascination and glee written all over his cherubic face.  Then, like a henchman letting go of the rope that held up the guillotine blade, my Mother snatched my sack, still foaming at the mouth.

“You’ll never see this sack again!  You hear me?  NEVER AGAIN!”

I searched for that sack and its contents for the next 13 years.  I never went trick-or-treating again.  What was the point?  I’d seen all there was to see.   Enough to know that when I grew up…I was going to let my kids eat as much candy as they wanted…WITHOUT the mind-games. 

Last weekend, my daughter pointed and asked, “Mommy, what is THAT?”

“Produce, sweetie.  Oranges, apples, bananas….it’s produce.  Give me that Ring Pop.  Show’s over, baby.”

So in honor of my sad and somewhat strong parental stance on the evils of sugar, here’s a tribute to Candy.  My one true love.

I finally got Cali’s party invitations finished and sent out today.  She’s home sick today so I can’t stay and chat!

Between shampooing toothpaste out of carpet and working on birthday party invitations, Cali and I made these “Back-to-School” cookies…a little late.  Pillsbury is crazy-nuts with these themed cookies.  Next thing you know, you’ll be at a wedding and there’ll be a huge platter of Pillsbury cookies in lieu of a cake…..and you’ll be turning around in a circle with your fork mouthing the words, “What the..??”

We also had ourselves a throw-down lantern festival.  Cali wrote a story ’bout it with people and trees and the dark and a moon.  You can design and print your very own lantern, courtesy of Ni Hao Kai Lan. 

NOTE:  POST TITLE TYPO IS DELIBERATE.  Thank you.  That is all.

I came across Craft Hope this morning over at allsorts and immediately became involved.  Craft Hope was founded by Jade Sims, a Mama of two, who felt compelled to join her love for crafting and her desire to make a loving difference in the world by creating a “faith-based, love inspired project designed to share handmade crafts with those less fortunate.” 

Their last project involved sending handmade dolls to the Casa Bernabe orphanage on the outskirts on Managua, Nicaragua.  I can totally understand the impact that a dolly can have on a child who is in a less-than-desirable situation.  I had a raggedy dog named “Hangry” that became real in my eyes as I bounced from foster home to foster home.  Looking back, I’m convinced that Hangry’s presence played an important role in developing my strength and tenacity. 

Here’s a look at the children who were blessed with an outpouring of love in the form of hand-stitched dolls.  I can’t wait to participate in their next project!  I encourage all of my crafty, artsy friends out there to become involved as well…because I know there are quite a few extraordinarily talented people who are convinced that their little “hobby” couldn’t make a difference in the world.

I’m not really sure why I got the deal I got on this dollhouse.  I found it at Michaels for $3.  You heard me.  Three bucks.  I walked all over that place trying to find another one like it and could find nothing.  The sales person didn’t even recognize it.  (Not that they ever do.  The employees at this particular store are indeed bothered if asked to give a mediocre performance of service.) 

The only thing I can figure is that someone at the toy factory in France screwed up when they clearly stated this house was for six year olds.  Maybe I’m stupid.  Maybe my brain has scar tissue.   Because this house came flat as a board, in 5,000 pieces, with no directions other than the picture on the packaging.  It all had to be glued together too.  Now, I’ve never done anything like this before.  I’m quite certain I said a few bad words.  But once I got into my groove, I finally understood those people who spend obscene amounts of time in their work rooms, hunched over a pile of wood and metal, armed with glue and a brush.  Gluing itty bitty tiny pieces of stuff together to make something big.  I could easily see it becoming an addiction of sorts.

I found the furniture for $3 too.  I haven’t even started those yet.  I’m itching to get started on painting and decorating the house!  But I think I’m going to have to wait until Whiz Bang is back in school.   She already got hold of it once and tried to “decorate” it with band-aids and glitter.

Here’s what it looked like when I started.  I’ll have you know it took me forever to get that one wall up and I felt quite remedial during the process:

Here’s the finished result:

…and here’s the furniture.  Look at how super-cute it is!

Not a bad six buck investment, if you ask me.

My recycled laundry box is a contest contender over at thriftyfun.com.  Check it out and give me a thumbs-up!

Don’t you DARE throw that laundry detergent box in the trash!  Recycle it instead.  I’ve got a million scrap booking and interior design magazines laying around, so I tweaked out this detergent box to hold all my stuff.

I started out with the box:

I removed the lid and handle with a utility knife:

Then I took a bunch of scrap fabric, ribbon and buttons and hot glued them all over the place and came up with this. 

The Front:

The Back:

The Side:

And the Finale (You can actually fit alot of stuff in these boxes!):

So don’t be trashy.  Recycle for heaven’s sake!