Make a Mirror from an Old Window

Sometimes I buy stuff that I don't have an inspiration for at the moment, but I stick them back, and eventually it comes. When I saw that Krylon had a mirror spray, I knew what I wanted to do with it. A couple of years ago, I'd bought this old window at a garage sale for $2 and was hoping I still had it, so I did a little happy dance with I found it behind some boards in the garage! The only hard part of this project was lifting and carrying the window because it weighs a ton.

One side was shabbier than the other, so I decided to use that as the front. You spray the paint on the back side of the glass. I took it outside and washed the whole thing down with the hose, then let it dry for an hour or so. This is my kind of project because I didn't want a perfect paint job; I was trying for an aged, peeling effect. I didn't even tape it off because the over-spray on the back won't show when it's hung on the wall or leaned against it.


I sprayed on one, fairly even coat. Note: The paint will take on a mat finish on the painted side, but the front is shiny. Next, in order to create the imperfections, I put water in a bowl, dipped my fingertips in it, and splattered it unevenly on the painted glass. You could use a spray bottle, but I really think that splattering it will give a less uniform water pattern. Also, leave some dry places, where the "aging" isn't so advanced. I sprayed on another coat of paint and let it set for a few minutes to dry, then tipped the window up in order to get runs. I loved the way that looked! This leaves little pouches of water under the paint, so I took a paper towel and carefully dabbed all the pouches to absorb the water. I gave this 30 minutes to dry, then sprayed on the final coat. There was exactly enough paint in the can for this project. If you're doing a larger area, buy accordingly. I paid $12 for the can, but you might find it cheaper.

Another 30 minutes, and I decided to place it on the mantle. The wreath was already there, and I may raise it because it covers up quite a bit of my mirror. The mirror effect is somewhat transparent, and I considered covering the back with dark mat board but decided it wasn't necessary once it's against the wall.
I'm super happy with my "antique mirror". It looks like it belongs on my mantle. Thanks for stopping by!
Cat

Essential Oils on the Tissue Roll

I love pretty aromas, but I can't handle the strong, commercial scents, like Febreze. They make it hard to breathe, and if I hang around long enough, I'll get a migraine. I picked up this scenting tip over at Pinterest, but I've taken it a step further. One of the photos I pinned described how to shake a few drops of essential oil into the cardboard core of a toilet paper roll to scent the whole room. (I have more essential oils than a normal person should, but normal is waaaay overrated.)

So, I tried it, and within 24 hours, each bathroom smelled like the particular oil I chose for it. One got Patchouli, another Texas Cedarwood, and the third Peppermint--yeah, that may be an odd choice for a bathroom, but it does smell fresh! The scents are light but noticeable when you walk into the room, and after a couple of days, even the paper has a faint scent of the oil. Each time you spin the roll, it releases even more scent--Glade is going to make a million with this idea as soon as they hear about it, but theirs will smell like a perfume factory exploded in the bathroom.

Less is more with essential oils, so don't drench the roll. You don't want oily, overpowering tissue. Shaking drops from one of those bottles is an inexact science, but I try for a couple of drops in each core.

Then I realized that Jim often changes the rolls in the hall bath he uses most, and I don't expect him to take the time to drip oil each time. Also, I figured I'd skip it if I were in a hurry. So, I decided to scent all the rolls stored in each bathroom cabinet. It only takes a minute, they're ready to go, and the extra rolls are already getting saturated. I doubt visitors will rave about how great my bathroom smells, but I bet they'll notice it. I was thinking that I could change the scents with the seasons. How about Frankincense and Myrrh for Christmas? It takes so little to make me happy.
Thanks for stopping by,
Cat

Trashy Stories

Of course the trash we set out at the curb reveals a lot about us. It's everything we've used up, discarded, and don't want in our lives any longer. As I was walking through my neighborhood yesterday morning, though, I got to thinking that you can also invent stories about people's trash.

Take this one, for example. It contained five pizza boxes, but I didn't focus in on them. Instead, I kept thinking about the silver sun screen and that pink silk rose......

After Max just vanished from Trisha's life, then sent a post card from the Florida Keys that said, "Having the time of my life, glad you're not here", life with their four boys had been hard. Really hard.

Trish stopped taking care of herself, let her hair hang in her face and gained ten pounds, but she continued to be a top notch mom to her children. Each day was a grind, get up at 4 AM, make breakfast and lunches for everyone, drop the kids off at three different schools, and make it to work at McDonald's. She had come to hate people, wished they'd stop eating the greasy, chemical filled garbage she served with a pasted-on smile.

Then one day, life got considerably brighter. She was working the window, as usual, when a black, shiny Mazda-RX8 pulled up. The driver was alone. He had a look about him, sort of like an apologetic puppy dog who's not used to being loved. But he was cute, like Bobby DeNiro cute in his younger days. He hadn't looked through her like everyone else did who rushed through to grab a sack lunch. When she opened the window, he sat studying her face. And then he smiled that playful, boyish smile she would come to know. He said, "What gourmet delicacy would you recommend today, beautiful lady?"
"I would recommend that your drive forward, turn right onto the street, and go on down to Vino's." He laughed and said, "I'm in a tearing hurry. Just give me a burger and a Coke." When she handed him his order, he said, "But I'm new in town, and Vino's sounds pretty good. How about you and I go there tonight?"
"Oh, I can't, I've got four boys, and I don't get out much."
"Four boys, huh? I have three girls. They're worth all the trouble, huh?"
"Yes. They are."

And for three weeks, he had shown up at her window everyday for a Coke and a burger. They would talk while he waited, and she learned that his name actually was Robert, but he didn't like being called Bobby. He was divorced and had been transferred to the area to manage Dillard's. Trish took to looking longer in the mirror in the mornings, highlighted her hair and held it back with clips. She stopped eating the food where she worked.

Then one day he asked again, "Do you think you might find time to go to Vino's for with me this weekend? I was thinking we might get a sitter and leave our kids at your house or mine, along with a bunch of pizza." She had hoped he'd ask again, but she hesitated so as not to seem too eager. "Yeah, I think I know people, and you seem like a nice guy."
"I am a nice guy, when someone gives me half a chance."

They'd left the seven kids at Trisha's house the following Saturday, the smell of pizza filling the house, with her cousin as babysitter. She had decided lunch at Vino's was better, and then she could be back with her kids by dark. Robert opened doors for her, told her how pretty she was, and the day had started off wonderfully. After lunch, they'd gone for a drive in the country, and he opened the glove box and handed her a pink silk rose with a frilly pink ribbon around the stem and a note attached. Trish had mentioned once that pink was her favorite color. She smiled as they whisked down the tree-lined lane and opened the note. It said, "Trisha, this rose is a token of my love for you. I want you to marry me and be a mother to my children, and I'll be a father to yours. I will be a devoted husband, forever, and you will never have to work at that window again."

She looked up at him, puzzled. "Robert, this is very sweet. I mean, is it a joke?"
"Why would it be a joke?" he replied, "I thought you felt the same way about me."
"No, well, I mean, I really like you, and I was hoping we could spend some time together and maybe, someday...."
"Maybe someday? What's wrong with today? I took you to lunch, treated you like a queen, opened my heart to you, and you ask if it's a joke?" He was driving much too fast, and she was getting more scared by the minute.

"Robert, stop the car! You're behaving like a crazy man!"
"Crazy? Me? You sound just like my ex!" He did pull over, into a path that led to a pasture. Trish fumbled with the door handle and then jumped out but stood staring at him, wondering how this day had gone so wrong. He opened his door but not before he carefully arranged a folding sun screen in his window, taking care to position it just right. Then he sprang from the car, came around to her and put his arms on her shoulders. She thought he was going to apologize, but he shook her violently and said in a steely voice, "Now, let's forget all this coy behavior. You know it's right between us. You felt it the same as I did that first day. I've already got your ring, and I was going to give it to when we went to my house just up the road, while we made love."
"Robert, you've got this all wrong! People don't just go out once and then get married!"
He looked crushed. "That's what the others said. That's why they're dead."

Panic flooded over her. Out of the corner of her eye she was watching the highway, praying for an oncoming car, but there was none. She jerked out of his grasp and began running toward the barbed wire fence. As she fought to climb it, the barbs tore her clothes and skin, but she made it over just as he caught up and grabbed the sleeve of her blouse. She pulled frantically, then jerked the front open, sending buttons flying, and left him standing on the other side of the fence, holding the lavender and lace blouse she'd bought just for this day. She took off running across the wide field, and he stood there, looking after her. He called, "I'm not running after you, Trisha. You'll have to go home sometime, and I'll be there with our kids, waiting for you............."

So, that's a five minute start on a story that could get kind of interesting :)
Thanks for stopping by!

Chapter Fifty-Something: Look out! Cat's Got a Gun.

I've never liked guns. Jim has rifles and shotguns for hunting, which he uses a lot, but I don't touch them. A girl could get hurt that way. So, needless to say, I've never fired a gun.

It seems to me, though, that the world is getting crazier by the second, and as February approached (my birthday month), I began thinking about what I'd really like to have, and I was ready when Jim asked. I wanted a handgun and a Concealed Carry Weapon permit. Muggers, rapists, and terrorists are constantly in the news, and the Survivalists are scaring me as well. Maybe being a little scared is a good thing, but I realized that if mayhem broke out, I wanted to feel as if I'd have at least a chance of fighting back.

Well, my darling Jim was flummoxed. At first he simply said, "No, you'll get killed with it." It made me think of nine-year-old Ralphie Parker asking for a Red Rider BB gun. At least he didn't say, "You'll shoot your eye out."

But sometimes I have to remind him that I'm not his child and that I'm several years past 18. We didn't mention it again for a while, and when he brought it up again, he'd already made arrangements for us to take the CCW class together, and we began visiting gun stores to learn about guns that are small enough, light enough, but powerful enough for someone of my stature to carry and hope she never gets the chance to use it, except on the firing range.

He had told the gun store/firing range owner, where the classes are held, that he was afraid that I couldn't get 16 out of 20 shots on a sheet of typing paper at 21 feet, so they arranged for me to go a week early for private instruction and practice. I enjoyed the whole thing, and I surprised myself and the instructor by not flinching when I fired, and all my shots hit the paper! On the way home, Jim worried that he might not be able to do as well as I did, and we planned to go back for him to practice, but then he had a medical issue that took all our attention and energy, so we never got around to it.

The class was fairly boring, as you'd expect, 4 hours of reading and discussing rules that anyone could just as easily read from a leaflet in 15 minutes, but the state has responsibilities, and if I go shooting someone's head off, they can say, "Hey, we did our part!" The class and applications for both of us cost $500. I think it's like $35 in Mississippi, but then we don't live in Mississippi.

I posted my target sheet above, 20/20, not too shabby for the second time I've ever held a handgun, using a gun that's not mine, and with people standing behind me waiting their turns. We both passed, but the instructor did point out that Jim didn't have any direct hits (black square) on his :) My shots tend to be low, and he said that's because I haven't learned to time my breathing, which will come with practice.

I haven't settled on which gun I want, but I'll post back here when I get it and talk about why I chose it, so it might help other ladies decide.

Marley's hasn't been a part of all this. He shivers against me in terror if he hears a gunshot on TV, or if it thunders. But I feel as if I might be better able to help protect all three of us.

Edit, 3/2/12: I bought my gun, a Smith and Wesson .38 Special Air Weight. I went into this thinking I wanted a semi-automatic, but the more I handled them in the stores and shooting range, I realized that, at least for now, I want the simplicity of a revolver. I guess my hands have average strength for a woman, and just loading the bullets into the magazine, I cut my thumb. I was straining so hard to push off the safety, etc., just a lot of fiddly things to think about and do with a semi-automatic. With the revolver, you load and shoot.

Also, semi-automatics can jam, which mine did on the firing range. The instructor said he was glad it did because it gave him a chance to explain what happened. My wrist, for some reason, is more limp shooting a semi-automatic, and any time I let the gun tilt back or down, it would jam. Clearing it is another process. For someone like me, who will practice a few times a year, and who prays I'll never get the chance to use my gun in a defense situation, a revolver is just best. It's beautiful, has some recoil but not enough to make me afraid of it. I think I would have been afraid of a semi-automatic, and that's not a good thing.

Jim wants to put Crimson Trace hand grips on my gun. They're very cool looking, but the one I practiced with, I didn't care for much. It would take some practice to squeeze the button on the inside of the grip while concentrating on aiming and squeezing the trigger. Yeah, I'm pretty simple minded when it comes to guns, but that's okay, too. He can put the grips on if he wants, but I won't guarantee I'll use the laser light much.
End of Edit:
Thanks for stopping by.
Love, Cat & Marley

Getting Through the Holidays

Christmas intensifies our emotions. Good times are brighter. Sadness is heavier. This is Marley's second Christmas with us, and he grows dearer everyday. No home should be without a dog. He's so goofy and happy and spoiled and always glad to be hugged and played with. In case you can't make out the dark photo above, it's Marley sniffing at the Christmas tree.  He's such a polite little gentleman, never tears anything up. If he gets interested in sniffing a book or something I've left lying around, I'll say, "Oh, no. That's Mommy's." And he looks so guilty, as if he'd done something terrible.

I woke up sad this morning, though, due to a mixture of our Christmas plans getting changed for us, family members who are seriously ill, and I've been going through an especially bad place with migraines, just a lot of stuff. You know what I mean. I'm struggling to find the sunshine that's been hiding behind the clouds for a couple of days now. But I'm a hopeful gal, if nothing else.  I always expect things to get better, and they invariably do. There's a book I'd like to recommend. It's called The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer.  It is life changing as it helps us look at life's challenges differently. I bought it on Kindle, then bought 2 hard copies, one for me and one for someone very special to me.

I'm writing, a lot. And I've joined a little group of ceramic artists. I look forward to getting together with them on Tuesday mornings. Jim has been gone stalking Bambi for a week in Texas.  He's coming home today. I didn't even ask if he got a deer.  I don't care.  My cards are sent out, the house is decorated, and shopping is mostly done. Since I last posted, I've gone Gluten Free, which isn't as hard as I'd expected.  I'll share more about this later, but honestly, food tastes better, and I'm seeing some encouraging results.

I have plans to be a lot more present on my blog next year, along with selling some merchandise with my art on it (on another site).
I wish you Sunshine and Abundant Blessings this Christmas.

Hugz, and thanks for stopping by,
Cat & Marley

Growing Old Ain't For Sissies

I feel young, mentally and spiritually. My body doesn't always agree, but mostly I make it just fine by taking care of myself. I eat so healthy my M.D. told me to splurge occasionally, and I have an on again, off again relationship with exercise and walking. But I always come back to them.

I was active in my youth and adolescence, cheerleader, walked to school (really), roller skating, bike riding, etc., and I guess that's part of why it's not too hard to get back on the wagon after my lapses, and I figure intermittent activity is better than no activity at all.

I mentioned my doctor, well actually, he's my former doctor. I rarely went to see him, anyway, skipped all of last year, but when I would go, for the flu that wouldn't go away, for my ribs when I fell and almost broke them while cleaning out the hot tub, stuff like that, I could tell that he was pretty much marking me off as another "old lady". I'm not even close to throwing in the towel, but whatever I asked him about he'd end by saying, "You know you're not that young anymore."

I'm very health conscious, research meds before I even think of taking them, would rather go the herbal, natural route, and he ALWAYS wanted to put me on a ton of steroids, antibiotics, pain relievers, etc., that had scary side effects that were worse than the ailment, so we argued over that a lot.

I truly felt that it was all a cop-out. Yes, I'm a senior citizen, but I'm not dead, and I'm just as important as his under 50 patients. So, we parted ways. I didn't make a show of it, and he doesn't know (or care). One of the challenges of aging (in addition to taking care of ourselves) is finding care givers who will treat us as worthy of their time and talents. There'll be another time when I need a medical physician, but I hope he's a better doctor for folks my age, and I'll try to be a better patient.

Anyway, I said all that to say that I think a big part of staying young is keeping interested in life and finding creative things to do. If I can stay active, I'd like to live to be a hundred or so, just to fit in all the arts I'm interested in doing. Here's a ceramic piece I painted yesterday.

And I've come to realize you need a pet. No matter how my hair looks or if I'm feeling on top of the world or a little down in the dumps, Marley is here with me, happy with whatever attention he gets (which happens to be a lot). I don't know if that's a little old lady attitude or not and don't care. We all need to find what works best for us.
Thanks for stopping by,
Love, Cat and Marley

Save Our Bookstores!

Books have always been my best friends. They're how I learn, they entertain me as TV never could, and they don't get mad at something I've said or didn't say or should have said or maybe thought of saying, and pick up their marbles and go home. I would be miserable in a home without books, and one of my happiest little pleasures is to spend an hour, two hours, half a day (no, seriously, I have) in Books-a-Million, browsing, reading, lounging on a big, soft chair and drinking coffee, maybe even splurging and having a giant cookie, for which I'll feel adequately guilty later.

When Borders went out of business, it shook me. We didn't even have a Borders here, but it was the end of an era in some ways, and if it can happen to them, why not Books-a-Million or Barnes and Noble?

I have to take responsibility, though....we all do. Remember when the first Wal-Mart came to your town, and everyone said it would be bad for the local economy, and you shopped there anyway because it's so convenient and has great prices? Well it was/is bad for the economy. When Wal-Mart came to Batesville, within a couple of years, centuries old stores like Barnett's Department Store and Maxfields closed their doors forever because they couldn't compete. They sold quality goods that Wal-Mart never heard of, but people gravitate to whatever costs less.

Well, that's what we see happening now with the internet and fun places to shop like Amazon.com. There's not a week goes by that I don't order something online, usually several somethings. And when I got my iPhone and realized I can sit in my Books-a-Million store and scan book barcodes through Amazon.com and be told immediately that I can buy that $20-$30 book for as little as 1 penny plus shipping, I went a little crazy. Heck, you can place the order right then and there. My friends (the books) take a few days to get here, but I'm saving like a gazillion dollars (I never was good at math). Woo-Hoo!!

But then Borders closed, and it got me to thinking that I'm to blame! Oh, not me alone, but I'm one of the culprits, and so I turned over a new leaf, and yesterday, I found three books in BAM that I couldn't live without, and I ordered two of them, but I bought the third one in the store and vowed never to buy books, compliments of their store's hospitality, from an online business without buying at least one at their checkout. I don't mean to preach, but you know you're guilty, and I hope you'll mend your careless ways, too, so we can save our bookstores.

Oh, and Marley? He's not much into books. When he was still a puppy, he chewed the corner of one of my friends, but we had a serious talk, and he never has even noticed them lying scattered on the floor around my chair again.
He's such a good dog.

Thanks for stopping by!
Love, Cat & Marley