Christmas with a Perry Como-ver

In these days flying by on the way to Christmas, I find myself fighting an inner war.  Do I decorate with simple primitive handmade items like the early settlers or should I go with the kitsch glitter and tinsel laden decorations I loved as a kid?

I LOVE handmade decorations.  I have a fake feather tree in my living room covered will all handmade decorations except the popcorn string that is fake because I can’t stand the thought of leaving real food out for weeks… drawing bugs and critters.  I am working on my real feather tree, but that is a slow process, so for now we have to pretend.  I thought I had settled on this motif… until I went antiquing.

There I saw it.  The leg lamp of my house in the form of a Hazel Atlas eggnog set.  It’s beautiful in all its 1940-1950 charm.  It’s mint condition and just screams for me to fill it full of eggnog…and secretly spike it,

If there were a support group for people who are stuck in 40’s and 50’s but wasn’t actually born then, I would be the leader.  I can’t help it.   My ipod is full of the Andrews Sisters and Bing.  I love the celluloidness and commercialism of that period.   I love the seemingly newfound attraction to artificial things.  I know… because I hate the artificial things of today.  But this was a period of innocence that I can somehow relate to even though I didn’t live through the first one.  There are a lot of similarities… war years and all. 

But part of me goes back even further.  I long for the simplicity of being happy with a Christmas goose and handmade ornaments and fireplaces and sleigh rides.  I know we tend to romanticize the past.  That special Christmas goose was probably the only meat we would have had for days… and it was probably about half the size of our growth-hormone injected birds today.  Deep down, I know things were probably just as hard in their own ways back then, but what kind of American would I be if I didn’t feel my problems were far worse than anyone else’s?

Busy busy, worky worky.

Wow, how time is flying by. I had the best weekend. My husband and I spent 3 days in my home away from home, Mountain View, AR. We were taking classes at the Ozark Folk Center. I took cornhusk doll making and he took wood turning. Our instructors were great.

Ms. Erlene Carter, the Jedi Master of corn shuckery taught my class. She is great. We had so much fun and she is such a wonderful teacher, we quickly finished our assigned nativities and still had time to make 2 more full size dolls as well as a handful bookmarks, ornaments, and even a ninja.

Phil took wood turning from Shawn Hoefer. He really enjoyed the class. He and Shawn were a perfect match with a lot in common. We both had such a great time, we are planning to go back to take the spring class as well.

This is Thanksgiving week and things are flying by. It's hard sometimes to take a break from all our jobs and think of being thankful. It's emphasized that this time of year is a time for reflection. I try to reflect all year long. I have learned to take pleasure in simple things. I love to watch the Canada geese land in the field by our house. I stop to notice the colors of individual leaves.

I once had someone tell me that I find the beauty in everything...this after they noticed the picture on my desk of pigs sleeping all hugged up. I take that as a great complement. I think in a world when we can be so ugly to each other sometimes, we need to find beauty where we can. I am a true believer that we should do something that makes us happy everyday.

So what I am thankful for this year is my best friend and wonderful husband, my family, my ability to work my craft, my health, and the willingness to seek out beauty in everything. To me, life is a miraculous thing and we need to take in as much as we can. Get off your iphone and go outside. Watch some wildlife, ponder the mysteries of the natural world. Appreciate how everything in nature flows. This is important in a world when our lives rarely work that well.

Out of my mind

Hi all.   It's been a while since my last post.  This is the busy time of year.  I am in the middle of building stock for my craft shows next year, trade-marking a new business name, getting all the permits and legal crud for the shows and making my Christmas gifts.  So what on earth possessed me to make my own Christmas tree?

My husband mentioned that he liked our small tree from last year.   This shocked me since he didn't come from the same Christmas background I did.  My family is a small family with small traditions and small trees.  Our trees are decorated with handmade and vintage ornaments...that weren't vintage when we got them.  My grandfather would go out and cut down a cedar tree and bring it into his house for the holidays...even though he was extremely allergic to cedar.

My husbands family, on the other hand, loves their artificial trees.  They are a huge family, and relish in the gifts and the hoopla surrounding the holidays.   They went to Dillards once and found a decorated tree they liked and bought it...all of it.. as is.  That was a whole new kind of tree hunt for someone who trudged through the woods to find the loneliest saddest Charlie Brown tree I could...so we could give it a home.

I'm not saying one tradition is better than the other, but when two people from different traditions get married, I think it's natural to want to try to combine them.  After all, each of us liked our own traditions.   I love live trees.. the hunt, the challenge, the smell.  Phil likes the artificial trees...no needles or hassle, and no spiders or critters.   Yes spiders. 


It was our first Christmas as a couple and since it Christmas at my house, I told him we had to go to the tree farm.  We loaded up in the Celica and drove to the tree farm.   There I picked out the most crooked tree I could find.  We had to sit in the car while the "elves" tied the tree to the top of the Celica.  We had to drive home with the windows down and when we got there, we had to climb out Dukes of Hazard style.   But the best was yet to come.   I guess a spider had laid eggs all in my beautiful crooked tree.  Because once we got it in the nice warm house, they must have hatched.   The tree dropped sap all over my skirt and presents, then all the baby spiders...hundreds of them, fell onto the wrapping paper and stuck in the sap.   We refer to that as the great spider Christmas massacre.  Believe it or not, this was not my last real tree.


On to last Christmas.   I had broken my shoulder Halloween and couldn't very well take my broken arm tree hunting and I didn't want to spend a few hundred dollars on a fake tree, so I bought a faux feather tree at Hobby Lobby.  It was only about 2 feet tall and i decorated it with whatever ornaments i could make with 1 arm.   People made fun of my little tree, but I thought it was one of the best trees i have had.  Phil even got a small strand of lights to put on it.   I felt like we had finally found our tree...but I didn't think Phil would go for it.

So, This is how I resolved the tradition of hunting a tree...making it more personal than just going to Sears and getting a plastic one, but not having the spider outbreak any more.

I bought a feather tree kit.   I know, during the busiest part of the year, I have don't know if I will have it done for this Christmas, but it will get done.   And best of all, I have found a way to combine having a tree that has a history and means something to me...because i made it...and not having a spider or having to water a real tree.  hopefully, someday, I will be able to post photos of my tree.

If you would like to learn more about feather trees, visit my frost blog.

I would gladly pay you February for fall weather today.

Well, it's time to put away the Halloween decorations and, for me at least, it's the beginning of the holiday season. It's time to focus on home and family. Santa production is in full force. And although it is still 83 degrees, it's time to start pulling out my cozy pajamas and hot chocolate supply.

We are using the air conditioner during the day and the heat at night. It seems like mother nature has taken the same approach to the seasons as the retail stores. On just turns into another and it seems we miss one or two in there. What happened to fall? Is this it? 83 degrees is fall? I remember when it snowed on Halloween, and leaves would actually change colors before falling off the tree. Anymore, I am putting up Christmas lights in my shorts.

Not to worry. If tradition continues, the weather will change overnight and we will go from 90 degrees to 32. I could be confused but, I seem to remember a number called 60 that should be somewhere in between those.

I think nature has gotten older like the rest of us. And when we get older, time flies. We find ourselves unable to fit it all in and we end up having to give up some things. Sometimes, we have to prioritize and give up things we love. Sometimes, we figure out that we are doing things we only think we like. Or we are doing things we hate out of obligation. If we can figure out a way to get rid of the extraneous obligations that we don't enjoy, and we can keep the things we love, I think we will be okay. As for me, I hope nature figures out that February is an obligation and gives me back fall. I would much rather have chili-eating, jacket-wearing, leaf-changing fall, than muddy, wet, gloomy February.

Launch of new Christmas Blog

Hey y'all.  I started a Christmas blog to feature all things Christmas.   Well known legends, obscure information.   I will be posting Christmas recipes, crafts, etc.  This is your site too, so please post away!
Frost on the beans

Sawdust and Hair Gel

I missed a week on the blog.  Last weekend was such a nice one.  I braved the massive throng and went to War Eagle craft fair.   Because of traffic, it took a little over an hour to drive 5 miles.   I have to confess, I went to check out my competition for next year.   My husband went for the food and to check out the wooden products.

I love craft fairs.  Craft fairers are my kind of people.  They are individuals, independent thinkers, creative minds.   As I walked around admiring their art, I wondered if they were side hustlers like me, or if they were the fortunate ones who have figured out a way to break out of their 4x4 closely monitored cells permanently.  After buying a few precious finds, we went home and I started planning my inventory for next year...providing I get accepted for a booth space.

I have found that some of my favorite times are working in the garage with my husband.   He makes furniture and frames and I stain them.  He is always listening to his Willie and Waylon Pandora station.   At that moment, I feel closer to him.  There are no distractions, no cell phones, no tv's.  I always tell him I wish we could do this forever. 

What is the point of all this mindless rambling?  I guess its to say that I thrive on creating.   I have to be constantly thinking, creating, designing..if only in my head.  Many of us are the same way.   Yet most of us pay the bills with jobs that not only underutilise creativity, but purposely choke it out.

I had to visit and unnamed company this week.  They are known for their elaborate new work environment.  Innovative, I believe is the term.  All the cubicles are frosted glass.  The group I was with was enamoured with the setup, but all I could think was this must be what the inside of an ant farm looks like. 
I wondered why I can't look at this and think like the others.   I wondered why I am not impressed with all the hands on the hips and hair gel. 

I said before that I had had a big dissapointment in my "career".  Since I am a planner, I immediately started planning around that.   I was determined to not make my job who I am.  I sat down and made an elaborate plan to start copyrighting my patterns, I formed a new partnership with my godson, I started taking classes to help with all this.  I felt like I was happy, on the right track, in control and I started feeling like the dissappointment was a blessing.   Then, work threw another wrench in the machine. 

Due to the constant progression of bigger and better, I assume my job will be greatly reduced in January, so I get the feeling they are evolving it into something I don't feel suited for anymmore.  I mean, 10 years ago, I wanted heels and laptop cases and business lunches, but now, I want the 8-5 so I can have my sawdust, my paint can, my husband and "Lukenbach, TX".  So here I am,  at the crossroads again. At this point, in order to keep my side hustle, I will have to try to fit myself into the square hole.   So if any of you have words of encouragement or advice, or if you can tell me how to use that much hair gel without becoming a fire hazard, please post.

The wisdom of Ted Nugent

After a relaxing but fairly uneventful weekend, I wondered what to write about.   Unfortunately, the universe decided for me.  

My goldfish took a turn for the worse last night.  I waited for nature to run its course.  I don't believe in euthanasia.  If it's so humane, why won't they allow us to do it to ourselves.  My personal spiritual beliefs don't award me the authority to decide if something should live or die.  I use live traps, I catch bugs.  Don't get me wrong, I have a contract with Terminix to keep these critters out.  Deep down I know they are dying, but since it is hidden, I can imagine they are just repelled by the chemicals.  

I grew up on a farm and death was a part of life.   Back then, it didn't bother me.  Since I have become removed from rural life and gotten a little older, mortality is something I greatly ponder.  Death has become something that I almost cannot deal with any longer.  I personally blame factory farms.   I go to the store and buy nice little packages of cows.  No longer do we have to look our food in the face and make a decision between tonights tacos and a life.   Ted Nugent once said that everyone should have to kill their meal at least once.  That way you understand the sacrifice being made.  I agree.  Still, death is something that I am not comfortable with especially if I am the reaper.

So here I am with a suffering goldfish.  Nature is letting me down.  He lays at the bottom and gasps for air.  Reluctantly, I research the most humane way to euthanize a fish.  Decapitation seems to be the most agreed upon method.  So, I get my sharpest Santoku knife and prepare myself to test my strength.

It was quick and I hope relatively painless for the fish.  For me, I cried like a baby in my backyard.  I know my fish is better off now.  I know he was suffering.   What's the lesson I am taking away from this?  I don't know yet.

I suppose when we take on the responsibility of a life, we also take on the responsibility of an eventual death. 


I guess in the end, my goldfish got what most of us really want, a long happy life and a short painless death.  I hope, someday, I get the same.

Busy Busy Worky Work

What a fabulous weekend we had here in the Ozarks.  Beautiful fall weather, Bikes Blues and BBQ, and a relaxing crafty Sunday with my wonderful husband.  I have to say that even after 10 years he still makes me want to listen to sappy love songs (insert Claire Lynch's "Falling in Love"  here.)

Did I mention he is also talented?  He is in the process of making our bedroom furniture.  I will add photos to the craft page.  We spent Sunday finishing up the nightstands.  It's times like that I wish we could make our living making things together.  I know better.  Once you do anything you love for money, it usually stops being fun.  Still it was a great way to spend a Sunday. 

I have been very busy filling an important order...one for my 6-year-old business partner Braden.  I am shipping him a box of handmade primitive Halloween decorations.  He takes the holiday very seriously.   In fact, he told me he couldn't start work on our stitchery designs until the day after Halloween.  Along with making his bats and such,  I have started working on my own designs as well.   I will post the nativity I did on the craft page.   I also learned a valuable lesson about coffee staining and oven baking.  If you go overboard, your beautiful ghost will look like died in a fire.

Something some of you may be interested in, the Ozark Folk Center is having their Homemade Holiday workshops Nov  18, 19, 20.  I am thinking of attending the corn husk nativity class.   Paula is teaching it and she is a peach.  You can get more information at Ozark Folk Center.

Something I wish I could have attended this year was the Ghoultide Gathering.  It's a meeting place for folk artists to focus on Halloween.

Here is the thought for the day...and one I have considered often lately as I hold my breath and count to ten:

We all have talent, some of us just keep it hidden.

Green Tomato Pickles

Ahhh, a cool down in Arkansas. What a nice change this past weekend. Dickson Street was jumping Friday night, though I don't jump with it quite as well as I used to. Being in that environment takes you back to your college days and makes you glad you lived through them and can enjoy watching the next generation. Despite a terrible loss by the Hogs, we still had a nice family watch party with an all-to-rare treat...pinto beans, fried potatoes, cornbread and green tomato pickles.

What the heck? That's right, green tomato pickles. They are a southern delicacy and go great plopped right on top of your pinto beans. I will include a recipe for them in the recipe section, but for those of you who do not want to make your own, House of Webster does a great job with theirs. The Amish Wedding Foods green tomato relish is also good.

As far as beans go, I like to get the bagged dried ones. You can also get them canned, but that takes out the fun of walking back into your house and smelling the beans cooking. I love the smell of beans on the stove. It's a childhood memory I have of going to my great-grandmothers house. I also like them flavored with pork. A ham steak is a good choice and you can get one for cheap. Overall this is an inexpensive that can feed a large crowd. That's why my great-grandma's house ALWAYS smelled like beans. And thats why, when I walk in and smell them, I can picture her in her flowered house dress standing over the stove.

Fall is a particularly sentimental time for me. A battle rages within between the urge to migrate to warmer temperatures and the internal calling to stock up for a long winter. I have a love/hate relationship with autumn as do several in my family. I call these restless fall feelings my nesting instinct. My sister calls them the pull of the autumnal solstice. Dad doesn't really talk about it. It's a sad time when summer seems to be passing away along with all its greenery. But its also a happy time because we can work outside less and concentrate on quieter nights with family under a cozy flannel quilt. We can all gather around a big pot of chili and plate of cornbread to watch the football game. We can make caramel apples and popcorn balls. No matter how our moods may swing, it's important to look for the positives in life. After all, any season that beckons for beans and bread and caramels and football and leaf piles and pumpkins can't be all bad.

Amish Wedding Foods

House of Webster 

You can go home again...even if it's someone else's home.

A tough week can make us question if we are the right kind of person. Developments in my so-called “professional” life as well as criticisms from peers in all aspects, made me wonder if I should be a different kind of person. After a week of dealing with mean and just downright rude people, I had to take this weekend to try to make a few decisions.  Luckily I have a very supportive family.

I needed to get away from all of them to clear my head, so I headed to Cane Hill, AR. Where? Exactly! Cane Hill is a little outside of Fayetteville and this weekend just happened to be the Harvest Festival. Now if you are looking for rides or electronic entertainment, this is not your place. But if you are looking for history, preceded by a HUGE all-you-can-eat breakfast including gravy, sausage, and homemade apple butter in a family-style sitting, this is it.

I will save the history lesson about Cane Hill for your own investigation or for your visit to the location. The families there, many of whom are descendants of the founders, are very proud of their history. You will get civil war reenactments from great-great grandsons. You will see quilts from the 1800's, you will witness sorghum making, and not just part of it. If you want to hang around long enough, you can see the process of the canes being pressed (complete with mule) all the way to trying the finished product. You can also watch the entire 5+ hour process of making lye soap.

More important than any of this, are the people you encounter. These are real people. And while I am sure they have regular jobs with regular bosses, for this weekend, they get to be who they really are. They are cane pressing great-great granddaughters of cane pressers. They are people who realize the importance of passing down a heritage that doesn't include coffee breaks and 401k's. They are people who like hand quilting better than machine quilting. And for this weekend, they are the kind of people who made a beat-down city girl feel good about eating a second helping of gravy. For that, I thank them.

After a trip to the past, I figured out who I am. I am not my job, I am not my third-place ribbon, I am me. I am happy to be me. I'm not saying there isn't improvement to be made. I like to consider myself a work in progress (like most of my quilts). But I also think if you are kind, if you are honest, and your intentions are good, then you are going to be okay. I find I let people judge me. I take the criticism from them without even knowing if they are even qualified to do so. Sometimes we feel a title gives someone the right to tell us that we aren't the best, or we aren't qualified, but we need to take it all in perspective. Some criticize to compensate, some out of fear of being bested, and some just out of ignorance. My best example is my third-place fair ribbon for my “dirty” witches hat...if that judge had only known how long it took me to tea-dye, coffee-stain, and sand that hat to make it look dirty...but I guess I did a pretty good job.

So what I am taking away from the last week and weekend is 1) I am OKAY the way I am, 2) Sometimes the rat-race ends on a glue trap, and 3) the next time some smartypants co-worker asks if I made my homemade candy in my kettle out by my cement pond, I am going to slam his fingers in my candy jar. Some people just don't deserve homemade caramels.

I would also like to thank mom and dad for going with me and humoring me with everything...including the merry-go-round ride that ended in near tragedy. Sorry about the backside. Mom.    



Cane Hill Arkansas

Glimpse of Fall and Old Fashioned Candy Making

Summer in Arkansas has been hotter than a snakes belly on a tin roof.    Maybe that’s why autumn is always so welcome.   It’s probably the reason we start making chili at the first hint of pre-season football…even though its still 98 degrees outside.  It’s why I bought a new pair of sweat pants even thought it was too hot to try them on.

These first signs of fall get me in the mood for certain things.  Carmel apples, chili, pinto beans and cornbread, fried potatoes… Ok, so mainly it gets me in the mood for food, but also for crafting.  This is the time of year, when we can stop fussing over the garden that pretty much burned up the first week of July anyway and start concentrating on crafting for the holidays.  I think Picasso said something like, “I am always doing that which I cannot do so that I may learn how to do it.”  Picasso is probably rolling over in his grave over my butchering of such a profound statement, but I am sure you get the jest.   The point being, try something new.

My newest interest started with a special request to the blacksmith at the Ozark Folk Center in Mountain View, AR.  I wanted a taffy hook.  I wanted one that was functional but mainly one I could hang egg baskets or quilts on.  After one year of looking in antique stores with no luck, I decided to try to have one made.  He was very accommodating and I was delighted with the end result.

After squabbling over the proper height at which to hang it so we would not poke out our eyes, my wonderful husband, who took up woodworking not so long ago and has really impressed me and all my friends and family, made a pine base for the hook for some extra stability, I suppose in the event I want to hang a side of beef from it.. 

The hook has not had enough free time to host any of the decorative items mentioned.   We make candy every weekend and we are usually “sold out” (given away) by Monday afternoon.  Being the traditionalist, I like to stick to things I think would have been common “back in the day”: Maple syrup, molasses, vinegar.   Phil likes more adventurous and artificial flavors like cinnamon roll.   I am fascinated by the fact that the same basic recipe is used for pretty much all the candies.  The catalysts are heat and flavors…and we have had NO bad batches.   We may not get what we want, like hard candy instead of taffy, but it has all been good and it teaches the life lesson of flexibility.  Plus, if you don’t tell people you are making taffy, they are just as excited when you show up with hard candy. 

If you haven’t made your own candy, I strongly suggest trying it.  It is amazing to watch the transformation of a few ingredients into something shiny and molten, and then again into something satiny and ribbon-like just from the act of pulling it.  I will be adding recipes to the recipe tab soon.  Please send in your recipes for any old fashioned candy you have.  Also, if you have any questions, please feel free to post them.  This trip to the past will be a journey together, so if I don’t have the answer, maybe someone out there will.