Well, Dollfaces, I've gone and done it again. I went off and left Sweetheartville deserted for weeks on end. I must apologize. I could give true, but lame, excuses such as the fact that I've been helping my grandmother through a a sudden and unexpected health crisis, or that the demands of a rambunctious toddler who still doesn't sleep through the night leave me exhausted and brain dead, or that never ending home improvement projects and a new business venture have taxed my precious free time to the limit, but instead I'll get right to the good stuff- the thrift scores.
A long, long time ago, way back in April, my mom and I went junking in Neosho, Missouri, like we've done every year for the past eight or so. Here are some of the highlights:
Another copy of the Better Homes and Gardens Decorating Book (with bonus panties pattern) and a trio of ceramic poodles...
an awesome plastic peacock plaque (I've been obsessed with peacocks for a couple of years now)...
a whole mess of vintage cookbooks, some dating back as far as 1910. I got a plastic tub full for only two dollars...
two tropical-ish, asian-y paintings laced onto blond wood frames...
two blond end tables (five bucks for the pair!) to go with my three dollar coffee table (seen in the background, pre makeover), two cool 60's lamps, a pair of yummy Danish Modern candlesticks...
this chair I nearly peed my pants over for ten bucks. There's only one small tear in the original vinyl seat...
and for the finale, the pair of lamps I've been waiting my whole life for, scored for only, wait for it...two dollars each!
Try not to be too jealous, Dollfaces. It doesn't become you. These beauties came with the original shades, but, sadly, they were so stained and damaged that replacements are in order. If you'd like to see more of my Neosho 2008 loot, I created a Flickr set for some of my finds.
Now, for reason number 674 why my Mama is too cool for school: Shortly after we returned from Missouri, she took a business trip to another city where she found time to squeeze in an estate sale. Thrifting at every opportunity just runs in our blood, I guess. There she bought me two of my most favorite vintage lovelies to date. Now, it would have been enough to come home with this pair of fabulous sequined peacock wall decorations, but she went and surpassed all limits of Awesome and presented me with this circa 1950's NUDE paint-by-number. It just about hurts to gaze upon its beauty, I tell ya.
Amid all the working and junking going on around here, I have managed to squeeze in some time for a little craftiness. A couple of months ago I stitched up this little puppy for Sugar Pea from a pair of 99 cent gloves with directions I found here. After she was completed, I had one pretty cuff left over, so I made her a jaunty little pillbox hat. I also added a felt belly button. We call her Saji, which was an approximation of Sugar Pea's word for strawberries at the time, and is also her favorite food.
In other news, Christie once again tagged me to list six more unusual facts about myself, so here goes.
1. I am a perfectionist to the nth degree. Always have been. In the first grade I would come home with severe tension headaches from striving so hard to be perfect in every subject at school. I regularly cried over math homework. I never made a grade below a B, and even those killed me because they weren't As. I'm lightening up in my old age, however, because I realize that my perfectionism holds me back and keeps me from tackling new things for fear of not doing them perfectly from the very start. Motherhood is helping in this regard. Motherhood and booze. Sweet, sweet booze.
2. I enjoy watching Yo Gabba Gabba as much as, if not more than, my toddler does.
3. When I was about seven, my bull riding dad strongly insisted that I ride an angry, cattle-prodded sheep as part of a rodeo event for children called "Mutton Bustin'". One of the cowboys cinched my tiny hand against the ewe's back with a rope just like the bull riders used, and the chute was opened to the roar of the crowd. I lasted about three seconds before I was thrown onto the dirt, crying, my one shot at rodeo stardom a miserable flop.
4. I secretly want a tattoo, but know that anything I pick now will be hilariously regrettable in ten years. Plus, I'm kind of a wienie when it comes to needles.
5. When I see something really, really fabulous, be it a book, craft project idea, movie, whatever, I sometimes get a little angry and jealous that I wasn't a part of it's creation. Case in point, The Craftster Guide to Nifty, Thrifty, and Kitschy Crafts, which I finally picked up last week from the library.
I know, I know. I'm about three years behind the times. Anyway, I totally could have written that book, especially since I own a good number of the vintage publications from which the projects were culled. The content, the layout, the colors, the whole thing is awesome from cover to cover. Superb job, Ms. Kramer! I hate your guts. Just kidding! Not really.
6. I am a terrible mother. One day last year, shortly before we moved from our apartment in Tulsa, I began to hear a thumping, scratching noise coming from inside our chimney. I knew it could mean only one thing: some form of wildlife was trapped inside. I nervously attempted to close the flue, and hoped for the best. Later my worst fears were realized when a good sized bird, covered in soot, burst from our fireplace and began flying around the apartment, no doubt scared out of its wits. I am embarrassed to say that I came absolutely unglued. I began screaming, and instead of grabbing my precious, wriggling baby from the floor where she had been playing and now sat startled, but amused, I ran for the safety of my bedroom where I peeked out through a crack in the door and yelled at Mr. Sweetheart to, "Get the baby! Get the baby! Oh my god, get the baby!" Needless to say, when it was all over and my valiant husband had helped the bird find its way out the front door, I felt stupid, overly girly, and ashamed. In my defense, I truly believe that if I had honestly suspected that Sugar Pea was in imminent danger, I would have saved her tiny, juicy, blue eyes at the expense of my own. Deep down I knew there was no safety threat, so I allowed my discomfort at the thought of those sooty wings beating against my face to take over. If it had been a tiger or a rabid dog, totally different story.