We took a quick field trip into Kansas City for some thrifting Sunday afternoon. Our mission was two-fold--some shelves for the Kiddo's room and a dresser for the kitchen. (If we can find the right piece, we would like to do something like this.)
We found some great shelves right off the bat, but then had to go straight home because they just barely, ever-so-precariously, fit into the car. I was torn between happiness at finding the shelves, and sadness that we didn't get to poke around s'more.
For about three weeks now, evil has had a new name at our house--we call it "the tooth".
The Kid is refusing to nap, despite being obviously exhausted--it's that darn tooth's fault.
The hens miss a day of laying eggs--it's got to have something to do with that tooth.
Global warming....
It has to cut through his gums soon right? (Don't answer that...unless your answer is, "Yes, in fact, I'll bet it already has!" And no, we're not going to talk about the fact that we still have nineteen teeth to go.)
This weekend, the tooth has been particularly making it's presence known, which made me a little sad because I wanted Sweet Husband to have such a nice first Father's Day. Nonetheless, we tried to make the best of it....
Sidecars and homemade ricotta for dinner Saturday night....
Savory pancakes with chard from the garden for breakfast...and a new coffee grinder to make Sweet Husband's espresso experiments even better. (I swear, that's what he wanted, but I'm not going to pretend it won't make my mornings happier too!)
And then, just as I was finishing up the breakfast dishes, that old tooth started acting up for reals. Poor Kiddo was all kinds of miserable, so we all hopped into the car to see if we could find some distraction.
We ended up at a previously unexplored flea market, where the Kid--absolutely plum tuckered out from crying and drooling--crashed out on my chest as we walked around. We were enjoying the quiet moment--commiserating with the proprietor about teething babies--when we ran smack dab into this old dear:
Those of you who've been around awhile know I'm a big fan of Amanda Soule. She claims that thrifting works better when you make a list or say out loud what it is that you need--think of it as letting the universe know what you're looking for so that it can deliver.
You can call it silly if you want to, but it tends to work for me.
Our rather large collection of jointly inherited china has been residing in this cabinet in our dining room. It's pretty, but it's a lot of glass for a house with a little one. For the past few weeks--since the Kid has gotten proficient at rolling over, and we've realized that he's going to be mobile soon--Sweet Husband and I have been talking about how we really needed to buckle down and find something safer.
And--voila, look at that--it magicked right up for us!
It needs love, but we got it for a song. Once we're out of too-humid-to-paint season (so, you know, in October), I want to sand it, paint it, and replace the hardware. But the shape was too perfect to pass up, and all of our china fits inside cozily. (And then Sweet Husband also found that pretty blue bowl all tucked back on an out of the way shelf--another steal!)
I should probably credit the tooth for the finds. After all, if not for it, we might not have gone to the flea market today. Maybe that tooth isn't pure evil after all....
Nah, even fun thrifting finds don't make up for making my baby unhappy.
I have one big weakness (ok, one that I'm thinking of right now) in my quest to be a more environmentally friendly person--I love me some pretty paper goods.
I'm perfectly aware that you can email invitations and Christmas cards and announcements, but I avoid it for all but the most casual things. Because I get a little happy rush out of getting and sending real mail. And I adore picking out nicely designed stationary products, arranging little "photo shoots" to get a nice picture, and putting it all together to mail out--complete with real stamps and all.
At the same time, I'm also a complete cheapskate about it. Like, the almost two bucks a card some of the bigger photo websites charge? For a card that looks exactly like everyone else's? No way.
So I thought I would share how I'm getting my stationary fix these days, at a bargain price.
First, Etsy. For about $15 a per design, there are hundreds of cards to choose from. I've had good luck searching for whatever kind of card it is I'm wanting and "template". (E.g. Here's what came up when I searched for "Birth Announcement Template".) Look for the ones where you send the designer a picture, and they send you back a file with your completed card. I've used Ink Obsession Designs (see above) and Paperamma, and have been pleased with both.
Then, if you have a little time and a decent printer, go get yourself some nice card stock and print away.
If you're lacking either of those--and I confess, most of the time I am--log on to Mpix and have them print your cards for you. I like the postcards (under "press products"), which are under or right at $1 a card, including the shipping and envelopes.
(Disclaimer: My Nice Brother-In-Law works for this company. We like him a lot, but that's not why I use them. Literally everything I've ordered, from postcards to larger prints, has been fabulous. The prices are nice too, and the shipping always seems super fast.)
Last step? Admire your pretty, pretty cards, stick 'em in some envelopes, and broadcast your good news to the world!
For this month's Kitchen Reader (of which I've been horribly neglectful these past few months) we were all to post a memorable holiday recipe.
Other than sweet stuff--which, while lovely, does not a dinner make--I have trouble thinking of holiday food that's important to me. We're still planning to "Feast of Whatever" on Christmas day, and discussing doing some crab leggies on Christmas Eve again--'cause that was way too fun last year. But really, when I think "Christmas food", I don't necessarily think of specifics. I tend to think more of having an abundance of food and of warmth and of light...just sort of that perfect "fullness".
So instead of food, let's talk about the table.
As you may recall, I blogged a bit last Spring about cleaning out my grandmother's house, and some of the vintage-y treasures that were found therein. When we were talking about who wanted what and wherefore, there was only one thing I told everyone I had to have--Grandma's Christmas windmill.
The windmill came from Germany. Nice Dad was stationed there for a few years when I was very small, and shipped it back to Nice Grandma one Christmas.
The heat from the candles propels the windmill blades, making the people spin around like a miniature carousel. And the little people and animals are so intricately carved--I still sometimes see a little detail that I haven't noticed before. Between that and the candles--the windmill is the only time I really remember eating by candlelight as a child--it was completely magical to the four-year-old-me, and it still is.
Much to my grandmother's mock displeasure, my cousins and I used to flip the windmill blades so that the wisemen and shepards would race round and round instead of making a slow, stately progression to Bethlehem. For some reason, I can't get them to do that this year. I think maybe we keep our dining room just that much colder than Grandma's kitchen and they can't get quite enough heat? Or maybe it's a skill that wears off when you turn ten, and I'll have to wait for the kiddo to come along and figure it out?
Even before Sweet Husband found the spinning wheel, we were having an awesome day at the River Market Antique Mall.
I have been looking for a copy of this game forever. It's a card game we used to play at my grandmother's when I was little. The idea is that everyone is going on a trip. You play "mileage" cards to progress along your way, but you can stop other people from traveling by playing things like "out of gas" or "punctured tire". (It's a little like Uno, but not quite.)
It was one of those totally cool serendipitous things where I just happened to look down and there it was sitting on top of an old metal trunk. Meant to be, I tell you.
Sweet Husband's big score was a couple of razors. Last Christmas I bought him a double-edged razor (like the one above to the right) and a shaving kit to go with. He loves it, and I've actually been converted too.
So converted, in fact, that I steal his razor when he's not looking. (Seriously ladies, it takes a few days to get the hang of it without nicking yourself, but your legs will be smooth for days!) Not being particularly crazy about having to hunt down his razor all the time, he's been looking for one for me for a bit now. As these razors last forever, an older one is just as good as a new. After this guy is properly sterilized I expect to never have to buy another crappy disposable razor for the rest of my life.
The straight razor--on the bottom--is actually for Sweet Husband. He's been wanting one to experiment with. (They scare me a little, but it's not my face at risk, so....)
Sweet Husband scored major brownie points this weekend. Like, a year's worth. Here's how it happened.
Having nothing else we wanted to do on Saturday afternoon, we decided to drive over to the River Market Antique Mall and have a looksie. The place is pretty awesome in and of itself--four floors of curiosities, all fairly well-priced. We had already had awesome luck finding a few little goodies (more about those later this week), and were on the third floor when Sweet Husband said, "Hey did you see that spinning wheel down stairs?"
"What?!"
"Yeah, there's a spinning wheel. I think it was, like, fifty bucks."
If you will remember, I took a spinning class about a year ago and loved it. But after trying several wheels in class, the two I liked (the Traditional Ashford or the Ashford Traveller) were sadly out of the budget. Although I'd been keeping an eye out for a used wheel on Ebay, I had just about decided it wasn't meant to be.
So, trying not to get my hopes up--because I was sure that something had to be wrong with it for that price--I frog-marched Sweet Husband back to the second floor where, with just a little hunting, we found it.
A quick trip to my local yarn store Sunday afternoon confirmed that this was indeed a steal. There's a slight problem with the knob that adjusts the brake tension (some fool varnished it in place), but a) it looks like it might be possible to get it out with a bit of work, or b) if not, the nice lady who looked it over for me showed me how to do makeshift adjustments. Otherwise, a little oil in the joints and it's ready to start making yarn!
The last dollar of my five, went to purchase several picture frames.
I'm indecisive, and rather than deny that particular character flaw, I try to work with it. As such, almost every bit of artwork and photography in our house is purposely framed and put on the wall in such a way as to be easily changeable. Our family photos are all in standard sized black frames--so easy to swap out whenever new ones are taken. Our fun snapshots are similarly all in the same size frames and displayed so as to be completely interchangeable.
Where I get into trouble is with all the cute little prints and photos that I find on etsy. They're all different sizes, you see. And if I buy a frame for one then I feel stuck with it forever and ever.
Additionally, quite awhile ago, I saw this photo of empty frames and wanted to do something sort of similar, but I just couldn't quite visualize how exactly I wanted to put it together.
Enter a dollar's worth of picture frames at the church rummage sale, a can of black spray paint, a few nails, and some ticky-tacky.
The frames had seen better days, but a can of black spray paint (sweetly wielded by the non-pregnant one) fixed that. There are two small nails in the upper corner of each frame holding it up, with a little ticky-tacky on the back to make it extra secure. The pictures--which have been sitting in a drawer waiting for me to find a place for them for a tragically long time--are also stuck to the walls with ticky-tacky.
Seriously, $5=happy me!
Because you can get your heart's content for $5. Or at least get close.
About two seconds before everyone was to sit down at the last little dinner party we had, I realized that--even after pulling out the red Christmas set--we did not quite have enough napkins for all. Having forgone paper to the point that we don't even have any leftover paper napkins in the house, I conspired with Best Friend who was helping in the kitchen.
"How many napkins do you have?" he asked, helpfully.
"Enough for all but two." I counted.
"Well, that's you and Sweet Husband who will have to eat neatly tonight!"
And we did, and it was fine, of course. But the situation made me hearken back to an idea I'd seen on Soulemama a few months before--all white napkins.
Sounds pretentious, maybe, but it's actually brilliant. White bleaches, and it generally matches itself. You can have a whole set of mismatchy white napkins, but they still go together.
And, as I wasn't aware of before but am now, you can get white napkins super cheaply at rummage sales. I got 32 pretty, vintage-y looking things for $4.
They were a little aged at first, but after a good soak in hot water and oxygen bleach, only 7 of them still have a few little yellowed spots. The other 25 are bright white and ready to go!
And where did that other dollar go, you ask? You'll see tomorrow!
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