Crafts From The Past: Ending Cat Houselessness, Beginner Carpentry, and Miniature Anachronisms

This week is Thanksgiving, and I’m back at home. So, I thought it would be fun to recount some projects from my earlier days. 

Extreme Makeover: Cat Home Edition?

When I was 13 my family got two kittens.  They were sisters named Macy and Sedona.  After we’d had them for about a month I talked my Dad into helping me build a rather large house for them.  I even learned how to use a jigsaw and a table saw. I figured if dogs got houses, cats needed them too.  If this house was on the market, I think the ad would look something like this.

Macy surveys the view from her estate.  

HOUSE FOR SALE:  Two stories, with attic. Whimsical coloring.  Patio and deck. Small doorways.  Open floorplan. Hardwood floors.  2 bedrooms.  No bathroom. Litter box nearby.  Conveniently located 3 feet from restaurants “The Water Bowl” and “The Food Bowl”.  No stairs, just “openings”.  Not handicap accessible.  Good schools, friendly community. Great for a 2-cat family who loves to entertain.

Hey kid, get off my lawn!!

Don't look at me. Don't look me in the eyes.

I don't require stairs.

These days Macy lives in this big house alone because my poor little Sedona has gone on to her heavenly reward.   When we first built it, I called it The Cat House but I had to quickly change that to “The Feline Habitat” when my uncle kindly informed me of the negative connotations associated with the former.  Yikes.  This is a family-friendly establishment.

This Old House: Easy Roofing Solutions…for those who are afraid of heights.

One year for Christmas I got a completely wonderful Doll House.  Not a Barbie Beach House.  Not a Playschool Plastic Bowl Cut Family Doll House (you know what I’m talking about)…although I had one of those too. Not one of those “Loving Family” or whatever doll houses with the real working electrical fixtures and crib that sings songs.

No.

An honest-to-goodness, made of wood, built by my own mom and dad doll house.  It was probably the best Christmas present ever.  Materialistically speaking, of course.   Anyway.  I guess I was 9 or so.  My Dad built it, but I did ALL, and I mean ALL the painting myself.  My mom helped me with the roof.  You have to glue each shingle on by hand.  It’s pretty time-consuming.  So much so, in fact, that I never finished it.  Until yesterday, that is.  That’s right, dear readers.  For about 13 years the roof has been unfinished.  Way back when I was 9, for some reason I didn’t finish the very middle part of the roof, just a very little part.  Then the shingles got lost or something.   This week, I found them in the basement!  In the very stainless-steel mixing bowl I borrowed from the kitchen to hold them in 13 years ago!  So, I finished the roof, and repaired various pieces of furniture that had been broken over the years.  

You can see the maid through the front door.  That's right, they've got a maid!

Don't you wish your home overlooked a pool table? (and had no back?)

You may notice something strange about this house.  Something a little….not right.  No, it's not the creepy, glassy-eyed expressions of the non-bendable doll house people 10-year-old me choose from a doll house specialty store for the ridiculous price of 7.50 each (WHAT WAS I THINKING?) Maybe you would call them “glaring chronological errors” or “startling anachronisms”.  For example, the figurines appear to be dressed in some sort of Victorian fashion (1837-1901)….yet the kitchen floor is very 1950’s.  Also, it’s pretty amazing to have an electric stove…which was an exhibit at the World’s fair in 1893 so it seems pretty surprising for a family such as this to already have one. And that fridge?  Well, our little family here probably should have an “ice box” since refrigeration didn’t really catch on until the early 20^th century.   Please also notice that this family has ONE OIL LAMP for their entire home. Now THAT is just wishful thinking.  I won’t continue.  You get the idea.  Clearly, 9-year-old me was not that concerned with constructing a historically accurate house.  Of course, I’m still not that worried about it, so I guess it’s okay. 

Here are a few rooms for your perusal.

The Kitchen. 

The Living Room.  My, doesn't she look like she is having a good time?

Mr. Head of Household checks himself out in the mirror.

9 year old me painted this room too look almost exactly like my room at home, minus the blob-butterflies.

What Victorian home would be complete without an ocean themed  school room?

I think I’m going to give the whole thing a nice coat of polyurethane to preserve it for posterity.  I mean, I feel like this is an heirloom-quality toy, you know?  Handle with care J

Vera Bradley, Women’s Suffrage, and Pseudonyms

Vera Bradley, Women’s Suffrage, and Pseudonyms.

Pictures at the end!

Vera Bradley.

People seem to love it, or hate it.  I’m in the middle.  I like some.  I feel ambivalent towards some.  I feel very, very antagonistic towards the price tags of most.

Who/What is Vera Bradley, you ask? 

Well, here is what wikipedia has to say:

“ The company was founded in March 1982 by Patricia Polito Miller and Barbara Bradley Baekgaard, a 1962 graduate of Marymount College. Named after Baekgaard's mother the company got its start when both were inspired while awaiting a flight in Atlanta, where they noticed a "definite lack of feminine-looking luggage".^[3]”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vera_Bradley

The article also says that they are famous for “quilted cotton luggage, handbags, and accessories”.

Okay, Vera.  That’s a pretty good idea. Maybe not change-the-world good, but definitely make-it-easier-to-find-my-bag-at-the-airport good, and who knows what that could lead to?  I want my luggage to look feminine too.  Thank goodness I live in a time when I can vote and have feminine luggage. Imagine the super olden days, when I would have had to carry a “Portmanteau” or “valise” and blog ( I mean, write on parchment with a quill) under a man’s name, like Currer Bell.…except I would have had to pick a different name because Charlotte Bronte used that one. 

Yes, we are living in a very pleasant age. 

Anyway, I think I was talking about Vera Bradley.  I like some Vera Bradley things.  I have some friends that love this stuff and some that really, really don’t.  I have a several Vera Bradley bags, it’s true.  Somewhere in the neighborhood of 3.  Mostly thanks to my Aunt, who gave them to me. (Thanks!!!) I really do like them, they’re colorful and fun.  I actually had to retire one because I used it too much and it got a hole in it. However, the suggested retail prices of Vera Bradley products are CRAZY.  Like, get a student loan to pay for them CRAZY.  Okay, I’m exaggerating. I’m working on developing my own Vera Bradley inspired bag making method, and today I reveal to you my first attempt.

Ok so basically Vera Bradley bags, in general, are quilted cotton.  Machine quilted.  This is not difficult to do.  All you need is two pieces of fabric and some batting for in between. I’m betting there are several tutorials on how to do this out there on the net so I won’t go in to it that much.  My grandmother is an excellent quilter; I really need to improve my own skills a bit more.  The difficult part becomes making a bag pattern that will give you the desired shape.  Because this was my first attempt at a quilted bag, I chose something easy to replicate.

A paper sack.

Yes. That’s right.  I made a quilted-cotton version of a paper sack.

I chose a fun patterned fabric for my outside fabric and a weird scratchy, thick greenish fabric I picked up as a remnant at some fabric store a while back. I thought it would lend some structural support.  I used the paper sack as a pattern guide and cut out 1 bottom piece, 2 side pieces, and 2 front/back pieces from the 2 fabrics and the batting.  Then I made my “quilt sandwich” and pinned them together. I used my machine to quilt it, which I did a bit haphazardly, seeing as I didn’t measure or anything to make the lines even. Turned out pretty good! Then, using the trusty inside-out method, I sewed it all together to make the bag, taking care to fold over and hem the top.    Next time I’ll do it so the lining covers up the ugly inside parts, but this was a bit of a rush job because…..I was impatient. (The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem) 

Paper Sack as a pattern!

mmmm Quilt Sandwich!

All my pieces, pinned and ready to sew.  Why are there two bottoms, you ask? Because I forgot what I was doing.

Horizontal....

And vertical.  Next time I will try more interesting patterns.

I am totally pleased with this first attempt. You have to start small.  I think I will attempt a tote bag next time, with a pretty lining and handles.  Also, I might put some cardboard or plastic somewhere it the bottom part to make it sit flat. It’s going to be awesome.  Oh! By the way, this entire little bag project probably cost about…umm…3 dollars or so. I had all the materials hanging around in my craft lair, so I’m really not exactly sure. 

Close up! Check out that highly geometrical quilting action!

It is the perfect size to use as a Shoe Travel Bag (Is that a thing?).  Don’t you hate it when you have to toss your shoes in your bag on top of all your non-shoe clothes?  I mean, you have no idea where the bottoms of your shoes have been, really.  Especially if you sleepwalk.

Home Sweet Home for my yellow peep-toe pumps?

Or, to hold a book. You know, in case….um.. I really have no idea why you’d need to use it for this. But it fits. You could really put anything in it you might put in a regular paper sack……….

Book Holder?

I hope Vera Bradley doesn’t think I’m trying to horn in on their profits.  It’s just little ol’ me…..trying to empower the world, one stitch at a time.

Let There Be Light!

Let there be light!

It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.  - Eleanor Roosevelt

All lit up!

I feel like every new project I do is my favorite one.  This one is no different.  I’ve been hinting at this for a while.  This one really can hardly even count as “making” something, it’s more like “assembling”.  Candles and candle holders are really surprisingly expensive, especially the pretty long-stemmed glass candle holders.  Don’t fret though, I have a less costly and equally beautiful solution for you.  I won’t pretend this is a totally novel idea; after I did this I saw that Real Simple magazine had done almost the exact same thing…..but I digress.   I found these really lovely little glasses at a thrift store for 50 cents each- I picked three different ones. They seem oddly small for wine glasses. Honestly, I don't really know what they are for.  Then, I got some small votive candles to put inside them. (1.50)  In case you’re counting, that’s a grand total of 3 dollars.   Wouldn’t this make a cute gift?  I don’t know where I will put mine yet, but I find them very charming.  

Now aren't they cute?

C'mon little plant, LIVE!

The winds of winter have begun to blow, and I moved the aforementioned poor little plant inside. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to be adjusting to his new climate very well.  This plant story may not have a happy ending!  However, I refuse to give up on it!  By the way, stay tuned for some rather excellent recipes.  In the meantime, check out my friend Mary's blog : http://mary-made.blogspot.com/

OctoberPostFest3: In which several things are painted, and compared to Regency-era literature.

OctoberPostFest3: In which several things are painted, and compared to Regency-era literature. 

By now, you are realizing that I rarely purchase something to which I do not make alterations or improvements on at some time.  If that thing is furniture, the alteration/improvement most often comes in the form of paint.    I like to paint.  I really like to paint furniture.  Because I am a student and therefore it is not feasible for me to order everything straight out of the pottery barn catalog (like I would do that anyway because I like to adventure-shop in antique stores), my strategy is often to find a study, economical, and quite possibly antique (read: probably just OLD) piece that I can spice up with a little help from my good friends Folk Art, Apple Barrel, and Anita (These are brands of acrylic craft paint, for those of you who are wondering).  I like Folk Art best because it is called Folk Art, which is clearly a superior name.

Read on, I say to you!

Today, I will tell you the story of three pieces of furniture.  Where they came from, what they were, and what they are now.  Unfortunately, I have only after pictures, and no before pictures.  Fortunately, I have…um….stylistically arranged these stories in the style of one of my favorite authors, Jane Austen.

Story One:   Sense and Sensibility

Sense will always have attractions for me.  Practicality must not be denied its importance in choosing a piece of functional furniture.  Yet, when the romantic refinements of a young mind are obliged to give way, how frequently they are succeeded by such opinions as are but too common and dangerous! Such was the case with me and my search for a desk.  I am sense AND sensibility, propriety AND impulsiveness.  I did not want a desk; I wanted a table; for will a table not serve the purposes of a desk, and then some? Truly, a multipurpose piece could be the only thing to satisfy my needs. Such a table I found, and procured, after successfully talking the seller down in price by no mean number.  I was satisfied. I esteemed my table and chairs. I liked my table and chairs. I was Elinor. And yet, the part of me that is Marianne cried out “Esteem them! Like them!? Cold-hearted Courtney, Oh! Worse than being cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise!”  I knew that something must be done.  Who am I, to have a plain, wooden table, with not even the most simple design or decoration? Am I not young? Am I not vibrant? Why, then does my table look so industrial, so harsh, so cold, so unfeeling?  I gathered my paints, my paintbrushes, my stamps, and several cans of shellac around me, and commenced to paint.  I think if you look at this table you may understand my mind a little better.  It is order and chaos, whimsy and boundary, all mixed up together, with no subtle use of color, to be sure.  But I digress.  The chairs are a bit different, but they still “match”, in their way.  And my seat cushions, each in their own way, I find very pleasing and am sure you could find nothing more lovely in Combe Magna.  Not that I would ever live in Combe Magna, because Willoughby is a scoundrel and a libertine.

View from the top! I think this might be what the inside of my brain looks like.

I also made a cute seat cushion with RIBBON TIES!

Did I mention the leaves fold down? 

Story Two:  Persuasion

A few years before, this chest of drawers had been a very pretty piece of furniture, but its bloom had faded early, and even in its height even the bedroom set had ceased to admire it (so totally different were its delicate features and mild wooden knobs from the set’s own) there could be nothing in them now that it was faded and worn to excite the set’s esteem.  However, it happens sometimes that a chest of drawers is more handsome at 49 than it was 20 years before, and that is the case with this chest of drawers.  I found this chest of drawers at an antique shop that was not called Kellynch Hall, but for the sake of this story, let us pretend it was.  The poor chest of drawers had obviously been jilted before; and its indifferent but undoubtedly well meaning dealer had marked it with masking tape that read “chester drawers”.  Note the wheels on the bottom, which the good dealer assured me would be “real helpful” in moving my “chester drawers” from place to place, and were “added value” (I am in no way making fun of this good gentleman’s accent or word choice, I am simply making it known to you, good reader, that the correct terms  are “chest OF drawers: and “really, or very helpful”.  I am in no place to criticize anyone’s grammar, seeing as I have often committed transgressions against the Good Lady Grammar (who I believe resides in Devonshire in the summer).  So long had dear “chester” been neglected and unloved, it was quite persuaded to think itself a lost cause, good only to encourage and support the efforts of other, more beautiful pieces of furniture. A few coats of “leaf green” later, chester was beaming with happiness, from its “valuable” wheels to its “barn red” drawer pulls, just like Anne Elliot when she realized Captain Wentworth didn’t hate her anymore, but loved her enough to say “You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.  Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever”, which is a very dramatic and romantic thing to say, obviously, and no one would ever tell that to a chest of drawers.

Pay no attention to the stacks of journal articles in the corner.

Story Three: Mansfield Park

Give a shelf a coat of paint, and introduce it properly into the world, and ten to one but it has the means of settling well, without further expense to anybody.  There was a shelf in the basement which I plucked from obscurity and introduced into the fashionable world, much in the same way Fanny Price was lifted from the general squalor of her Portsmouth home and brought to the Bertrams at Mansfield Park.  The shelf, like Fanny, was pale and unpolished, but with a great depth of possibility.  I’m pretty sure it was a shelf my Dad made many years ago for the sole purpose of storing things in the back of the basement or garage, so it wasn’t that…pretty.  About 3 years ago I snatched it from its cold abode (of course, I asked first!) and began my improvements.  Pink? Indeed. More pink? Yes, lighter shade, if you will.  Painters tape? Oh my, but that will make some interesting designs. Done.  Shelf, you have now married Edmund Bertram.  Wait. That comparison doesn’t really make sense.  Well, shelf, you have at least bested Mary Crawford.  

Whimsical AND functional. The best of both worlds.

Well, Folks, That's all I've got for now.  

OctoberPostFest2: In Which a Plant is Snatched from the Jaws of Death

OctoberPostFest 2: In Which a Plant in Snatched from the Jaws of Death

Before I begin, allow me to introduce my dear friend Jessica's blog, which chronicles her life an an intern at the Wesley Foundation.  Go check it out at  www.jaytaylifetimes.blogspot.com

Those of you who know me perhaps will know that I am descended from a line of excellent gardeners.  My grandfather, in fact, is officially a “Master Gardener”.  My Great-grandfather (other side) actually owned a nursery (for plants, obviously) and invented (spliced? Grafted?) his own special kind of plant, if I’ve heard the stories correctly.

About a month and a half ago I was walking through the store when I spotted this sad little fellow.  The store was all but giving him away, he was marked down to a mere 99 cents.  99 cents, for a delightful miniature yellow rose plant.  Granted, this little plant had one foot (root?) in the grave.  Look at it.  So sad, so thirsty.  Abandoned by its fickle master (the store) and sold for a pittance.  I took one look at this plant and said “Come with me, Little Plant, and I will take care of you.” 

I didn’t say that out loud, of course.  That would be ridiculous.

I’m not claiming to be a master gardener here.  What I know about gardening wouldn’t fill a thimble. Well maybe a thimble, but not much else and there would be room at the top.  Basically all I did was prune off those dried up flowers that were sucking the life out of the little plant (this is called “deadheading”, I am told) and water it devotedly.  Now, several weeks later, it looks like this:

Yes, I attempted to paint the pot.  No, it doesn’t look very good, but it is sort of charming in special way.  You will all soon find out that painting straight lines is not my forte.  Look at how nice and green the plant is, though, and so much fuller!  I ought not to have taken this picture at night.  It’s not very good….

I can’t wait to see if it flowers again. I hope it does.  I’ll bring it inside for the winter.

A brief note on pumpkins

Hello All,
I'm afraid I haven't the time for a good post right now, but here's a teaser for what is to come: (yes, I realize I've already hinted at a few of these, but I've got to keep myself on track, right?)

This time of year always makes me think of the book Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder, specifically the part where Almanzo grows an enormous pumpkin by cutting a slit in the vine, and putting one end of a wick into a bowl of milk and the other into the vine.  He wins first prize at the fair.  Now, this book is based on real life, so I am assuming this is a viable method of pumpkin nourishment, but I really don't know.

Anyway, the point is, one of the posts to come will include a touching story in which a half-dead plant is nursed back to life.

Also, I'm still working on the thing with the tiny wine glasses. In my head, that is.  It's going to be very simple and wonderful, I just haven't had time to go to hobby lobby in a long time.

and finally, stay tuned for a very elementary school style Halloween costume.  (aka lots of GLUE is involved)

Hopefully these things will make it up here in October.  However, there is a 99.9% chance it will be November before I get to it.  I'm sorry blog, October is a very busy month this year!