Did It Myself No. 4: No Sew Laundry Sack

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Here's an easy, cheap and fun project (well, fun if you're a DIY nerdwad like me). All you need is a pillowcase (I used a king-sized one), a burlap sack (got mine from UFA for about $2), some sisal twine (a must have item for any DIYer) and a few safety pins (bonus if they're old and rusty like the ones I found in my stash... yes, I have a safety pin stash—don't you?)

Here's how to assemble: 

1) Slip pillowcase into burlap sack. Roll top of pillowcase down over burlap sack. (As you can see in the photo, I also rolled up the bottom as it was quite lengthy and also—it looks cute.)

2) Pin pillowcase into burlap sack. 

3) Pin sisal twine to the top two corners of the sack.

4) Hang sack where your heart desires.

As one can imagine—this doesn't have to be used as a laundry sack. You can use it to hold wrapping paper, or toys, or recycling or porn... Personally I put my nice shirts and yoga pants in it as I don't like them to fraternize in the wash with the common laundry. 

Speaking of laundry... I may have overflowed the kitchen sink last night and been forced to sacrifice a bunch of bath towels to the clean-up. I better go take care of them or tonight we'll be drying our post-shower asses with nothing but air.

Did It Myself No. 3: Rockin' Rocking Chair

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Sometimes fabric starts it all. When I was working on my daughter's room—before I knew she was a girl—I was looking for neutral colours and prints that don't outright announce "Hi! I have a penis/vagina!" I've talked about my dislike of pink in a previous post. I'm an earth-tones gal through and through. So, when I saw this graphic floral with its greys and greens and browns I just knew I had to have it. (I had to have it so bad, in fact, that I forgot to check the price tag... oops.) You may recognize the fabric as the background for the baby superheroes artwork I from my last post—so, I'd say I got my money's worth. Even though this fabric features flowers, I don't find it overly feminine. It actually reminds me of Where the Wild Things Are. Something about the long, snaking, brown and beige vine. It looks like the tail of a beast who just disappeared around the corner...

As for the rocking chair itself—it took some convincing, but I talked my husband out of an oversized and overpriced glider in favour of a solid wood rocker by promising I'd make a real nice cushion for it. I'd like to say "and bippity boppity boo—it was done," but this project actually turned out to be quite time-consuming. The chair, which I failed to take a photo of in its original state, had to be sanded, primed and given two coats of paint (and the darker wood still bleeds through in a few places). The cushion was another adventure as I bought several pre-cut pieces of foam, which didn't work. Then, I got foam custom cut, but it was too hard and felt uncomfortable. What I ended up doing was just buying quilt batting, cutting it myself and then sewing it into the fabric. I added some ties, velcroed it up and over the headrest (another request from my hubby) and there she be. I'm happy to report it's already been utilized extensively and just this morning it was spit-up on for the first time. Rock on.

Oh! And I should also add a photo of the stool my husband built to go with the chair. We much debated the height and width of this bad boy to provide optimum rocking assistance and I think it turned out perfectly. It also doubles as a little night stand for when I'm crashed on the cot next to the bundle's crib.

Did [Not Do] It Myself: Baby Superheroes

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So I didn't draw these... but I did frame them! The artist who concocted these gems is none other than my husband/best friend/partner in all things both criminal and not—Devin Patterson. Just wanted to share them with the world because they are too friggin' cute. Oh, and let it be known that the majority of these were sketched out in about ten minutes or so. If I want to draw something by hand it takes me ten minutes just to decide which direction I should approach the paper from. Can you guess who these superbabies are?

   

Did It Myself No. 2: Refinished Dresser

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My most recent excuse from being away so long is I was cheating on this blog with another. But, we've patched it up and I've promised it will never happen again. (Though, we all know, once a cheater always a cheater...) Onwards!

I love old furniture. The lines. The detail. The character (and by character I mean, of course, sticky drawers). But sometimes it just looks, well... old. It's scratched. It's dented. Someone wrote on it with a black sharpie. The colour is all wrong. Good thing there's this newfangled invention called paint! Sure, there's the sanding, the priming, the first coat, the second coat, the roughing it up in just the right places so it once again looks old. To me, it's all worth it in the end, because you get a 100% unique piece for your home that you don't look at and think "remember how I bought that dresser from Ikea and set it up?"

The proverbial before and after pictures.

Instead, you think, "remember how I found that dresser in my in-law's garage, sanded it, primed it, painted it, painted it again..." You get the picture. Too much work? I know the truly newfangled thing is chalk paint, which still gives you the rustic chic/customized refinish without all the steps. I have nothing against it and if it's your thing then go with god (whoever that may be to you). But I've always been a sucker for pain, so I enjoy the lengthy process. It just makes things sweeter somehow.

Why Being Broke is a Good Thing When it Comes to Your Home

Let them eat cake... baked fresh in one of our ten kitchens!

Because money enables tackiness. Now, before I go any further, let me just say that of course taste is subjective. What is hella tacky to me may be hella beautiful to someone else and hey—that's okay. When it comes to the things you spend your (hopefully) hard-earned money on, the things you surround yourself with, you should do what makes you happy. That said, the problem with having a lot of money—and I can only imagine what it's like to be in this position, because I may be a Swayze, but my daddy wasn't Patrick—is that too much money means you can afford almost anything. Fancy a 90,000 square foot mansion modeled after the Palace of Versailles? Done! (Though that doesn't always end well, watch The Queen of Versailles to see what I mean.) Even on a smaller, but no less moola-influenced level, decorating with imitation-marble statues, Rococo-inspired furniture and ten-foot long pieces of knock-off abstract art is one way to make your house feel more like a museum than a home. And maybe, as a little kid, you always dreamed of living in the Guggenheim, but I get the feeling for most people that isn't the case.

Having less money means...

1. You Think Before You Buy

I'm talking priorities here. If you can't afford everything, you tend to only buy what you really want. So maybe that $3000 solid oak dining table from Ethan Allen is out of your reach. Maybe your budget is more aligned with the prices of IKEA or, perhaps, Kijiji? Maybe your budget is nada, but your mom just replaced her thirty year old dining set and wants to make sure it goes to a good home. Instead of spending a buttload of money on something you might outgrow, or just grow tired of, you could end up in a one person's trash is another's treasure situation. And that, my friends, is where the arts and crafts fun begins.

2. You're Forced to Get Creative

Why do you think so many artists come from poverty? Because, if you have no money, you have to think of innovative (and cheap) ways to live. Can't swing the price of those framed black and white photos by such and such? Take them yourself! Frame them yourself! All your bedroom furniture mismatches? Not in the eclectic, purposeful way, but in the "I got this dresser at the take it or leave it section of the dump... and it only had one used condom in it!" In the hands of an artistic person, that faux-wood 1980s clunker with the brass knobs becomes fresh with just a coat of paint and some new (or simply re-purposed) hardware. (Oh yeah, and a pair of rubber gloves.)

3. You Appreciate What You Have

Maybe this isn't always true. As humans, we tend to lapse into periods where we take what we have for granted—even if what we have isn't much. But, in my experience with the low to mid income kind of lifestyle, when you take the time to consider the things you buy, or the things you create/recreate, there's a feeling of, dare I say, contentment that comes with such thoughtfulness. I have a bookcase in my office I bought unfinished from Jysk. I primed it, painted it, sealed it, replaced its hardware and used fabric to create a graphic back panel. I did this about five or six years ago and I still love that bookcase. It's one of my favorite pieces of furniture because I remember what it used to look like. Remember painstakingly chipping dried black paint off the doors' glass inserts. Remember how, when I installed the fabric back panel, one nail went askew and I decided to leave it as is, because no one would know but me.

And there you have it folks. Be glad if you don't have a lot of money. It means you can't have everything you want. And sometimes that's a good thing.

Spring Snows Bring Summer Hoes...

...you know, like backhoes? Get your mind out of the gutter!

Spring is a time for birds and flowers and so much snow it blocks your view when trying to back out of your driveway and you narrowly miss running over the neighbour's kid. What? That last one seems out of place... unless you live in Alberta. Edmonton, Alberta, specifically. But this is not a blog for complaining about weather. If you want to see people with no real problems crying over precipitation—well, that's what Facebook is for. (And just so my snarkiness doesn't get me into trouble—I want to acknowledge that the one hundred car pileup yesterday was, indeed, very serious and I won't blame you for crying over precipitation in regards to that... although you also have to admit us Edmontonians, despite being used to treacherous winter conditions, still don't seem to know how to drive in them.)

What I want to talk about is not the weather, but instead my favourite thing about spring. And that, of course, is spring cleaning! Yes, I am one of those weirdos who loves to clean. Certainly, I don't love cleaning at 10 p.m. on a Thursday night after driving to the city, working, driving to rehearsal, dancing, driving home, cooking and so on and so forth. But when the March sun is reflecting off the four foot high snowbank and shining in through the windows—I just love to go a-organizing.

Never mind the sweeping/vacuuming/washing aspect of cleaning. It's the sorting/arranging/labelling part that really gets my engine firing. There aren't many things that bring me as much joy as going through a rubber bin, a cupboard, a drawer and deciding which contents to keep, recycle or give away. (Sometimes I have to throw things away... sob... for more on my complicated relationship with garbage click here.)

One of my spring cleaning projects this year is organizing all my husband's CDs. And not just the musical kind, although there were a fair share of those—none of them in their rightful case. We're talking CDs used for hard drive back up, DVDs burned with movies totally acquired by legal means, as well as installation discs for such of-the-moment programs as Windows 2000. I was having a merry time flipping through discs, reminiscing about a time when "Flash Drive" sounded more like an eighties action movie set in the still futuristic twenty-first century than a one inch gadget with the ability to store a terabyte of information. (Remember when a gigabyte was so massive we didn't even have to think about what came next?) But then it dawned on me—what am I going to do with the CDs we don't want anymore? The music CDs were easy—Goodwill accepts them. But I highly doubt Goodwill has the need for a file management software installation disc circa 1998.

So I turned to the ever faithful Google and found the most wonderful site. (Well, maybe it's only the second or third most wonderful... there is some pretty golden stuff floating around on the interweb.) Alberta's Recycling Hotline is a website that will help you locate places to recycle different materials—such as batteries, eye glasses and car tires. In my case, I simply chose "CDs" from the drop down list, plugged in my postal code and found a place called "Shanked Computer Recycling" on Winterburn Road. Tada! Now I don't have to add the discs to our ever-growing landfills, nor do I have to spend time and effort creating some sort of eco-art installation that I'd probably hate anyway, because I like my technology to stay were it belongs, inside my computer or stuffed—I mean, purposefully placed—in a desk drawer. Though this CD clock is kind of cool... not my style, but also not as tacky as some of the other gems I found after googling "old cd crafts."

My spring cleaning to-do list is currently four pages long, but once I finish going through the CDs and drop the unwanted ones off at Shanked I can at least cross one thing off. And, because I promised I wasn't going to blog about the weather and am nothing if not inconsistent, here's one last winter wonderland photo—courtesy of my mom. I already checked that it won't break off and impale her terrier. It's on the wrong side of the fence... so it will just impale the neighbour instead. Bad time of the year for neighbours, hey?

The Houses in Which We Live No. 2: Victorian

I'm back! Had a bit of an unplanned hiatus, but these things happen. People get busy and overtired, blogs get ignored. It's the strange truth of the times we're living in when we have not only a "real" life to balance, but an online life as well. Still, I always think the most important thing is to spend time with the ones you love (whether in the physical or digital world) and to make an effort to stop and smell the roses. And the houses. So, without further ado—here's another installment of "The Houses in Which We Live."

Victorian ("Queen Anne")

Thanks to Full House, these Victorian-era "Painted Ladies"
are instantly recognizable to legions of adults who grew
up in the late 80's and early 90's watching Mary Kate and
Ashley Olsen before they made their billions.

Ah, the Victorian period. A simpler time. A time when women married to men they didn't love were told to "close their eyes and think of England" and, if they refused to play along—or, heaven forbid, played along too much—they likely wound up in the attic. Thank goodness Victorian homes have such cool attics! Sure, they're drafty and filled with the creepies and the crawlies, but come on! I'd put up with all that for vaulted ceilings and a third floor view of the moors. 

Technically, a Victorian home is any home built in Great Britain and its colonies while Queen Victoria was parked on the throne (1837-1901). Yet, nowadays the moniker "Victorian" is often used to describe any home or building that combines features such as intricate ornamentation, turrets, bay windows, large porches, steep roof pitches, stained glass and asymmetrical design.

Now, what I just described is really only one faction of Victorian housing—a faction commonly known as "Queen Anne." This is not to be confused with the eighteenth century architectural style that occurred in England under the reign of the same-named monarch. Instead, "Victorian Queen Anne" stems from a revival of the original Queen Anne style that took place in the late nineteenth century, led by Scottish architect Richard Norman Shaw. Still with me? (If not, don't despair. You aren't the only one. There is still much confusion and debate over what should and shouldn't be considered "Queen Anne architecture." Further, what is considered Queen Anne in England is not necessarily Queen Anne in North America.)

This Victorian Queen Anne style home has traditional
features such as an asymmetrical facade, a large porch,
 a steep roofline and, my personal favourite, a turret.

Things are about to become further muddled as, aside from the Queen Anne style, "Victorian architecture" filters down into several other subcategories: Italianate, Gothic Revival, Folk Victorian, Shingle Style, Stick House, Second Empire, Richardsonian Romanesque, Eastlake and Octagon. But, since I'm writing a blog post and not an essay for History of Architecture 101, I'm going to stick with discussing the Queen Anne style because I think it's probably the most recognizable type of Victorian home. I'm also going to stick with North America's version of the Queen Anne home because that's where I live and that's what I know. (Plus, England is so damn old—diving into it's architectural past would be like opening a jar of big, fat, monocle-wearing worms.)

As mentioned in my post about Craftsman homes, the Arts and Crafts movement was a response to the Industrial Revolution. Now, it may be hard to believe considering what mass-produced houses look like these days, but back in the mid-nineteenth century, they often looked like the Queen Anne home pictured above. Because of new technology and ease of shipping, factories got all crazy pre-making elaborate architectural parts and sending them all over the United States to be assembled into inventive, and sometimes over-the-top, homes. However, not all Queen Anne homes are massive and elaborate. Smaller homes may borrow just a smidge of the traditional Queen Anne detailing, sometimes mixing in other architectural styles to create a delicate, but still simple, exterior.

How cute is this Victorian-inspired cottage? Doesn't
it just make you want to drink tea and eat crumpets?
 (Umm... does anyone actually know what a crumpet is?)

The thing I love about a home style like Queen Anne is also the thing that makes them so hard to reproduce, particularly in modern times—character. Somehow, the combination of so many intricate details, the care and attention that goes into creating each spindle, each wide-trimmed bay window, is often lost on newer "Victorian" homes. Sure, you can slap a turret on a house built in 2010, but when you smoosh it in next to a double attached garage and cover it with vinyl siding—it just isn't the same. A favourite pastime of myself and my husband is driving around looking at (and, I'll admit it, criticizing) new homes. He'll point to anything that looks even remotely Victorian and say "you probably like that one." But I won't. "That window is in the wrong place." "The turret roof has too low a slope." "There's just something about it that's... off." Yet, take me through an older neighbourhood, like Edmonton's Garneau area, and every house I see has the kind of character that makes it unique. Even a pre-fab home built during the Industrial Revolution seems to have more to say than every new house on a suburban street. You could say it's a money thing, but I'm willing to argue it's much more than that. It's about attention to detail. Is this sort of architectural thoughtfulness a lost art form? In a time when Malvina Reynolds' "Little Boxes" (a.k.a. the theme song from Showtime's Weeds) has never been more true, has the convenience of reproducing the same house time and time again dampened our desire to want something just a little more... interesting?

What think you? Are new houses still interesting in their own way? Or has mass production finally homogenized the unique right out of our homes? Let's chat about it in the comments section!

Tree of the Day No. 2: Colorado Spruce (Picea pungens)

Time for another entry in the "Tree of the Day" series! And, given the time of year, what better tree to discuss than Picea pungens—aka the Colorado Spruce, aka the Christmas tree?

Most of you have probably already taken your tree down. But, if you're anything like me, you're waiting until after Ukrainian Christmas to do so. (Okay, maybe my tree still being up has more to do with the fact that I've been sick/lazy than the fact I'm one quarter Ukrainian, but let's just pretend it's the latter.)

Unlike the last tree I wrote about, the Colorado Spruce is native to North America, though not to Canada (its name makes it pretty easy to guess which part of our fair continent this tree is from). Besides being chopped down and covered with twinkle lights, the Colorado Spruce is also very popular in landscaping because it's no fuss. It also provides dense shade in the summer and privacy in the winter when the majority of other trees get all naked. The Colorado Spruce is often used in farm and acreage shelterbelts, again, because they're hearty and they provide protection from the elements (and curious neighbours)—sometimes growing to be a hundred feet tall.

Now, the question I have is—how did this drought-tolerant, often blue-tinged tree become synonymous with Christmas? If what I've heard is correct, and the Christmas tree is a remnant from European winter-solstice celebrations—how did a humble tree originally from Colorado get involved in all the hoopla?

Back in the good ol' days (no, not the 1990s, think further back), evergreens were seen as a symbol of winter's end—a return to spring and rebirth of life. They were often decorated with fruit, candles or other handmade baubles to honour gods, while their branches were placed over doors to ward off spirits. Since this was all pre-New World, the evergreen species associated with these festivities were more along the lines of European Silver Fir, Norway Spruce and Scots Pine.

According to one tale, a seventh-century English monk from Devonshire moseyed on over to Germany to preach, using the triangular shape of the fir tree to explain the concept of the holy trinity. Another story tells of Martin Luther, father of the Protestant Reformation, becoming enthralled with the glistening snow on a row of evergreens during an evening stroll. Upon returning home, he set up small fir trees and decorated them with candles to recreate the image for his children.

Possibly my favourite legend of all, because it finds a way to blame that no-goodnick Eve (and, by extension, all women), tells of how Eden's Tree of Life was originally a fir that had flowers and leaves like the rest of the trees, but when Eve took the apple they shrivelled and died, leaving only sharp needles behind. So, if you ever find yourself falling into the unforgiving arms of an evergreen (and really, who hasn't?) you can chalk it up to one more thing "that woman" ruined for everyone.

Christmas trees were introduced in small areas of America by several groups, such as German Hessian soldiers and British cattle barons. With the growth of communications in the nineteenth century, Christmas tree customs began to spread across the country. Because of the Colorado Spruce's symmetrical shape and needle retention (meaning, it's needles don't end up on your carpet), as well as it's availability, it came to be associated with Christmas in the US (and thus, by extension, in Canada).

I've never had a "real" Christmas tree and am quite used to the wiry, unscented and somewhat tacky "fake" PVC tree. There's one standing in my living room as I write this—I actually think it looks quite pretty. And there are arguments on both sides as to which kind of tree is "better." I've heard fake trees described as "just not the same" and one only has to unpack the acronym PVC to realize that, along with all the other plastic materials in our lives, these trees aren't exactly contributing to a chemical free environment. Of course, if a "real" tree isn't properly recycled it essentially becomes a carcass representing how wasteful we can be, especially during the holidays. However, on the plus side, the growth of trees for Christmas purposes relies on individuals respectably making a living off caring for trees—trees that spend about a decade maturing and photosynthesizing (that means more oxygen for us!) before sacrificing their lives for our enjoyment. But wait... thanks to the "living Christmas tree" movement, you can have your real tree and plant it too! Many Christmas tree nurseries now sell trees, such as Colorado Spruces, in a pot so they can be kept inside the home during the holidays—then moved outside and planted afterwards. Everybody wins!

Another idea I really dig is actually a throwback to the earliest artificial trees, which were made out of wood. According to thewoodentree.org, "The Wooden Tree is an alternative Christmas tree that utilizes environmentally friendly resources and local labour." It looks like their website is still under construction, but if you're curious, head on over there and take a look at some of the pictures. These aren't your grandma's Christmas trees, but maybe they aren't too far off from what your great great great grandma had...


Well, I'm off to start taking my tree down and packing it away for another year. Maybe next December, instead of setting it up, I'll donate it and take a crack at a living or a wooden Christmas tree instead. I'm all for traditions, but sometimes the best part about them is breaking away and beginning a brand new one. Happy new year everyone!

What kind of Christmas tree do you usually have? Real? Fake? Spruce? Fir? Plastic? Wooden? None at all? I want to know everything about you... so please leave a comment!