My bathroom revamp

The bathrooms in my house are just bland. I want to give them a sprucing up with marble, rich fabrics, expensive hardware, and just plain glamour on a mac and cheese budget. Hmmmmm? What to do? I know! I will paper the crap out of it. No, no, not WALL paper, brown wrapping paper. So here is the before photo. 

Pretty bland, right? Standard contractor grade stuff. Enter an amazing idea that I got from here, who got the idea from there. It was soooo cool looking, I had to try it out. But I did not want to commit to the whole floor, so I attacked the counter top.   

I apologize for the dark appearance of the photo, but now that the counter is dark it is not reflecting as much light and I was much to lazy to go get the tripod to take the photo. 

The only difference I made to the tutorial instructions was to 
use "pecan" colored stain and poly all in one. I love the richness of the color. Oh and ignore the drips of poly in the sink, I will get that with some acetone later today.

I have applied 3 coats of polyurethane to it already and I discovered a little spot that is lifted, so today I am going to apply some poly and set a weight on it and give it another coat tonight before bed. 

Now on to the new decorative shower curtains. 

More bathroom revamp to come.

This is are some rings that I am currently working on.

 I love the wrap rings. When I made my first ones, I did not have a ring mandrel, so I used an apple corer. I worked great, but only made a size 10 ring. Which fit my forefinger nicely.

Just me.

Hello and welcome! my name is Kendra, and I live in the great state of Missouri in a little town called Springfield. I am a wife of one and the Mom of three, aka "chief cook and bottle washer" I am so working towards being a full time stay at home Mom/crafter.
 I really enjoy the creative process. I love to make "stuff." Sometimes that stuff comes out great! Other times, well, maybe not so much. But I try none the less.

Flying by the seat of my pants

This is pretty much my creed on life. I am rarely formally prepared for anything. I study for tests in school as little as necessary.I don't do a lot of research for projects. I just go with it.

When I write for my blog, I just write.

That is just my way.

Springtime in the Ozarks

I love spring in Missouri.

Redbuds and Dogwoods blooming.

Daffodils, Tulips and Iris's all erupting in a rainbow of color.

Warm breezes, chirping birds, capri's and sandals.

I love when the first tiny, green leaves start to bud out of the trees.

I know longer, warmer days or not far off.

Hurry Spring. I miss you!!

How Does Your Garden Grow.

I have toyed with the idea of putting in a garden.

But I am reluctant. I have a black thumb.

A big, black, plant killing thumb.

I have tried to grow plants in the past. Sigh.

Poor plants, they never did anything to anyone.

To live such a short life to die a horrible strangulating death from lack of water.

Did you know, I killed an aloe vera plant once?

A cactus!

They thrive in some of the most inhospitable environments on Earth.

And I bring one home and proceed to torture it to death.

My Mom is a great gardener.

She can throw a seed onto the concrete and it will grow into a flowering vision of beauty.

I think Mom devotes so much time to her gardening because she hates to mow.

Slowly, she is filling her yard with flower beds and lilly ponds. I believe the reason behind this is to cut WAAAY down on the mowable yardage.

I mentioned my garden idea to Randy the other day, he just laughed.

He knows me to well.

Sunshine on my shoulder makes me happy!!

I have been remiss in my postings.

I have been in a rough state of mind during the month of February.

I have been ill and down in the dumps.

Maybe suffering from some seasonal depression.

But the sun is shining now and life IS good.

I am feeling so much better.

Physically and emotionally.

Have a great day!!

Am I the reincarnation of Lucy Ricardo??

I don't think there is really anyone over the age of 30 who does not know "I Love Lucy." For those you young whipper snappers that don't, "I Love Lucy" was a great, if not the greatest sitcom of all time. Lucille Ball was the star along with her real life husband Desi Arnaz. Together they played Ricky and Lucy Ricardo a 1940's, New York couple. Ricky was a Big Band leader and Lucy was your atypical house wife with a penchant for ridiculous hilarity.

Now, I am not married to a HOT Cuban band leader (he is a HOT exCalifornian) but there ends the differences.

If you have something valuable that CAN NOT get broken, well when I walk by it will find its way into several pieces.

Let me give you the perfect "Lucy" scenario. Many years ago, my own personal "Ethel" and I were driving along when the car just stopped. After several tries to start it, Wendy (my Ethel) ran down the street to borrow her boyfriends car. Now our car was a junky, piece o junk VW bug. Kevin's car on the other hand, was a beautiful, nearly brand new Chevy Lemans. Together, we formulated the brainiac plan to push the Bug with the Lemans.

Can you see where this is headed? It does not really take a rocket scientist to figure out that this would not end pretty.

And it didn't.

It started out beautifully. Wendy was in the Lemans, seeing as it was her boyfriends car, it seemed fitting. I was in the Bug, and it was moving forward. We really only needed to move it about a block into a parking lot. We make it about 10, maybe 15 feet. There was sort of a thump and a grinding sound. Wendy put on the brake thinking that the Bug would roll forward.

Uh uh.

She popped it into reverse, and backed up. So did I.

But I wasn't in reverse.

I was still in drive.

More grinding and scraping. Metal on metal is not good at any time. We tried several more, unsuccessful maneuvers. But those cars were stuck

The spirits of Lucy and Ethel were very successful. We were good and stuck, minus the cameras and the laugh track. We did have an audience though. And they were laughing. All except Kevin.

Poor man. He was unaware of his "role" in our sitcom.

He did not get it that he was supposed to say some witty remark and get humorous but gentle revenge on us.

Instead, he chose to take the low road, and get pissy and ignorant over the Bug imprint on his front bumper.

Thank God he did not sue!!!

Now, when ever something insanely goofy, and outrageously unbelievable happens to me, I would swear I can hear the voice of Ricky Ricardo emanating from a tv signal decades past, "Luuucy" followed immediately by whisp of a breeze and the unmistakable scent of henna.

Well, I know Lucy has come calling.

"I am going to kick you A#@!"

I know that at first glance, this sounds like a threat.

But, you have to be able to read between the lines in order to translate.

"I am going to ( I was wrong) kick your a#@ ( and I am sorry)!"

I believe that I mentioned in yesterday's post that Randy has a unique way of apologizing.

And this is it.

I don't know if this holds true with all men. I can only judge by my own man. He does not LIKE to say "I'm sorry" or " I was wrong", out loud.

But I have learned over the years to read through the words to the meaning behind it.

It is always said with just a hint of humility and humor.

And since I understand the meaning of these words, it makes me smile.

A Pile of Love

What is the first thing you think about when February rolls around?

Roses, mushy Valentines Day cards, red velvet hearts and chocolate.

Mmmmm, chocolate………

Oh, uh sorry. I got sidetracked for a second.

And Love.

What does it mean to truly love someone?

I think in today’s world, love gets a romanticized view.

It is not that I think that love is not romantic, it totally can be.

But it just can’t be moonlight and roses, champagne and chocolates at every turn.

Morning comes.

And with it comes eye buggers, bad breath and the inevitable hair curling gas passing.

In my mind, it is so much more than just the fluttery stomach,

first kiss tingles that make up true love.

How many times have you heard “ I just fell out of love with _____________”

Fell out of love?

That sounds like an accident right there.

“I fell out of bed.”

“I fell out of the truck.”

"I fell out of a plane and I didn’t have a parachute on.”

Which in turn, leaves the falling IN love equally distasteful .

Like falling into a pile of something .

I think we try to make love much more complicated than it needs to be.

My husband and I have a few things that we ALWAYS do.

We say “I love you” every time one of us leaves to go any where, or talk on the phone.

We also, kiss goodnight , goodbye and hello.

We hug.

We take responsibility for our actions.

We say we are sorry. ( Randy has a distinctive way of doing it, but it means the same.)

I have a disclaimer.

We are not perfect.

Perfection exists only in the movies and the occasional greeting card.

I didn’t trip into a pile of love with my man.

I learned to love him.

Randy and I have been together 10 years.

I still look at him in all his glorious imperfection and smile.

He is beautiful.

And I love him.

Rest in Peace, Miep Gies

Miep Gies passed away yesterday. I did not recognize her name, but I knew a bit of her story.

She, along with 20,000 other Dutch citizens, risked their lives and the lives of their families to hide Jews during World War 2.

Miep Gies, her sister Bep and two others, hid the Otto Frank family in a secret annex inside the factory where they worked. For two years they cared for this family and kept it secret. Two years. I am floored by the courage these people displayed. 20,000 Dutch citizens hid 20,000+ Jews from the Nazi's

They risked their own lives and their families lives to save their neighbors and countrymen.

Could I do the same?

If a neighbor came to me and said "I am being persecuted for my beliefs and if caught I will be sent to a prison where I will be burned alive, or gassed, or starved, or have and insane doctor do horrific experiments on me and my family."

What would I do?

My heart would be screaming "Take them in!!"

My head would be reeling over the horror and injustice!

But somewhere, in my head or in my heart there would be a huge and inescapable fear.

What if we are caught, then we will suffer the same fate of prison that my neighbor faces.

My heart is screaming "Take the risk, if caught we will have stood for something bigger than myself."

But the rest of my family? Can I make that decision for them? My husband could decide for himself. But what about my children? Can I put them at risk for this cause?

And yet, during World War 2, thousands of people, like you and me, were asked to do this very thing.

I'm sure these same fears and questions ran through the minds of each and everyone of those who chose to help and hide Jews during this time.

But they did it anyway.

They served their fellow man at the risk of their own freedom and lives.

To all those people who risk it all to do what they feel in their hearts is the right thing,

Thank you.

To make resolutions, or not to make resolutions. That is the question.

January of every year starts out exactly the same. I make resolutions that I truly deep down in pit of my being, I know I will not keep. "I resolve to.... fill in the blank. My blank has ALWAYS been filled in with "lose weight". This year I resolve to make no resolutions. I will make goals and a plan in which to achieve those goals.

Goals

1. To write a blog post at least once per week.

2. To save money for the furthering of some education.

3. Futher my education.

4 I will add excercise to my life at least 3 times per week.

5. Self-feed. For those who don't know, self-feeding is spiritual improvement and study.

It is a short list, I know, but I have to start slow.

Why I cry when my children perform.

My daughter took a 5 day dance camp a couple of years ago. I was so excited for her. I myself had always wanted to take dance lessons. But we lived in a small town 30 miles from the nearest dance studio. Today it would not stretch the imagination to drive so far for dance lessons. But back in the 70's it would have been unheard of.
So we bought an inexpensive pair of tap shoes, ballet practice slippers, and a leotard and tutu. She looked so sweet in her leotard. Her little pot belly protruding ever so slightly.

Every morning we would get up and I would style her hair into a cute pony do that would keep it under control. We packed her little bag with things she would need at camp. All her dance shoes, socks, extra clothes, and a snack (to keep the energy level up).

The camp included instruction in ballet, tap, and gymnastics. After the 5 days there would be a recital where the girls would showcase what had been learned.

So the day of the recital came. Randy and I both took off of work to attend the event.

There they were, nine little girls each wearing their dance leotards mom had helped them choose. Nine little hands waving frantically to nine sets of moms and dads and various assorted grandparents. It really does'nt get much more adorable than that.

The lights went down on the audience, the music began, cameras began flashing, and nine little girls began to dance.

My heart sang at the sight of my sweet little angel. There she was on the stage, a ballarina. I had a fantasy of being a ballarina from the first moment I had seen the Nutcracker performed on public tv. Here was my beautiful daughter fulfilling that fantasy for me. In my minds eye, I could see her twirling and pliaing to the symphony at Carnegie Hall. My eyes welled with tears of joy as I watched my baby on that stage. I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from my eyes and returned from my future fantasy to the reality of the moment. Nine little girls dancing off step as if they were marionettes, their strings being pulled by some uncooridinated dance puppeteer at stage left.

Each girl had her eyes glued to the instructor, each pirrouette, each plie was performed with little finesse. They tapped and pirrouetted and performed feats of gymnastics in choreographed chaos.

I heard the quiet sniffles of mothers all around me. And it was at that moment that I realized why my mother always had that teary eyed look after every performance we went to when I was a child. I knew then, that it is a mothers inherrent ability to see beyond the clumsy off-step to the prima dona behind. To hear each flat note, and block it out and hear the lilting melody of a future diva. To see each A on the report card as an indication of the genious that lies within.

So the next time you are attending a function where children are performing, bring along some extra tissue. Share them with the mom next to you. She will be ever so grateful.










when i think of my child hood I remember it so differently than say...it actually was. Hope in ballet. me on the cheer squad.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Well I don't know." she answered. Exasperation ringing in her voice.

Don't you remember Uncle Yayhoo asking you this when you were like, six? What were you supposed to say? The usual canned six year old answer. If you were a girl, it was probably nurse or hair dresser,(that must have been what I said), or if you were a boy, a fireman. All noble, hardworking, and necessary professions.

But now the question comes around again. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Well crap! I am grown up! But I don't know what I want to do. And I have my doubts about how "grown up" I am. Being in my 40's has done nothing for the ease of decision making. I think it's harder. If I make the wrong decision, it will rise up and bite in the... well, you know.

I think to myself, "what do I love" Well, I love photography. But it also stresses me WAY out. Also the competition in my area is harsh. As I sit here at my desk, I could throw a rock and hit the homes of two other, far better, photographers. Besides, photographers here are closing studios left and right. So, really that is just a hobby.


What else? I love to read. Could I make a living doing that? Yes a proofreader, or editor. Hmmm, that might be interesting. But, there are not a lot of publishers here in Springfield, Mo.

I love to write. I could do that from home and be here for my kids. But this is going to scare the wits out of my husband. He is currently laid off from his job and trying to decide what HE wants to do when he grows up. Here is the problem with that. Due to current economic difficulties, his employer has laid off a huge portion of their work force. Randy made $22 an hour. Where can he go now and make the same money. I told him he could be a stripper. The potential for $500 a gig is there. Women will pay big bucks just to see a man on the dance floor. The popularity of "Dancing with the Stars" stands testament to that. He just rubs his burgeoning belly at me and smiles. Mmmm, that's my man.

Really I think my decision is made. Now, I just have to make it work.

Wish me luck.

Halloween 2009

Halloween is almost here. This is a big deal in my family. We started having a haunted house a few years ago and it was a HUGE hit with all the neighborhood kids ( and their parents).
My brother, Steven started the idea at his own house many years ago and was sorley disappointed with the success of the project. He lives on a secluded street that does not recieve a lot of Trick-or-Treaters. He went to great lengths to scare the little goblins only to have no little goblins show up.
So the idea came about after our first Halloweeen in our house,When we revealed that we had had over 100 Trick-or-Treaters. The following July, ( just after the big 4th of July celabration which I will touch on in later blogs) plans began for the haunted house. We began imagining all sorts of themes and methods to realize the project. Flying ghosts and vampires, elaborate scenes of macabre mellee gave way to a much simpler reality. A black plastic maze wound it's way thru the garage with plenty of shocks and frights along the way. It was simple and cheap. But the resulting screams and laughter were pricless. The first year we had around 200 visitors come thru. All recieved a candy reward for their bravery.
During the first year my brother and my husband, Randy, frightened a little girl so badly that she became paralyzed with fright and her mother had to go in after her. After the family left and it slowed down a bit, the two of them emerged laughing so hard about having scared the pee out of that little girl that tears were streaming down their faces. I had to tell them that it was disturbing that they would get so much glee out of scaring a 5 year old. Admittedly, scaring little kids was the whole idea behind a Halloween haunted house.
The second year was equally successful.
Our haunted house made us famous in our subdivision. Kids would aproach us at the pool many months after and ask "Are you guys the ones with the haunted house?" And with a sly smile I answered "Why, yes, we are."

Plans are being formulated for another go round.
If you find yourselves in a place where screams pierce the night, followed by raucous laughter. You may be in our neighborhood. Come on by and see if we can scare the pee out of YOU!! MwuHaHa Ha!!!

My first time.

The title sounds provocative, doesn't it? Well get your mind out of the gutter. I mean my first time to blog.
I have heard the term "blog" for quite a while. I knew in general what it meant but had no real experience with blogging. So, here I am at my computer at 7:02 a.m. on a Sunday morning, blogging for the first time in my life.
I should probably tell a few details about myself before we go any further. I am a beautiful, fantastically fit with a genious level IQ. I wish.
In truth, I am a 40 something woman, cute, NOT physically fit, with an above average IQ. But don't we all see ourselves a little better in our minds eye than we do in a mirror.
I love to laugh and make people laugh. And I must confess I am pretty good at it with the people I know. I would love to earn a living at laughter. I know, I know there is always stand up comedy. Yea, no. I am not the stand up type. I am more the sit down type. I would rather do it with the written word, hence the blog. I also need to hone the writing and typing skills. You will agree if you read long enough. I have dislexic fingers and they tend to type words before my mind has even thought of the next one. I do a lot of backspacing and deleting.
I would really like to write books that make people laugh, for a living. But I have so much angst over the "getting started" process. I just can't start. I have to be prepared, but I don't know how to be prepared. I need the right stuff, the right place, the right skill, the right blah blah blah. It is very frustrating not having the "right stuff". I can hear my Mom in the back of my head saying "if you are just going to do it half-assed, don't do it at all". How can I go against my Mom for heavens sakes. If I don't have the "stuff" to do it right, then I can't do it at all! When I mention to my Mom that those words are holding me back from being creative and adventurous, she just laughs. She has ZERO sympathy.
So, I am going to do it. I am going to free myself from the silly sayings of my past and get down to business of writing. And this is how I am going to do it. A blog.

My blog virginity has been lost.