Friday, October 24, 2014
I might be turning into Jessica Fletcher.
(This is where I wanted to put a video that I love, but the YouTube was being ornery. Sometimes it is. If you want to watch it, it is here. If not, I will recap. Jessica says that there’s no age limit on reinventing yourself. That you can become a writer at any age. It makes me love her even more.)
So I have been joking about my Murder, She Wrote house for a long time. You can read about it here. And you know what? I’ve tried. I’ve really, really tried.
I love y’alls Pottery Barn-esque homes. I love your uncluttered coffee tables and unadorned walls and clean lines and your fifty shades of gray. I love your moody blues.
But it’s just not me.
Murder, She Wrote and I go waaaay back. It came on television at a time when I needed a friend—I was a newlywed in a new town where I knew absolutely no one. My family and friends were 714 miles away, and Jessica was like an aunt who visited me every week while I ironed. My mother watched it on Sunday night too, and we would talk about it every Monday evening.
But now, Jessica stands for something else. I might as well face it. Jessica was a retired English teacher who wrote mysteries. I am an English teacher who will soon retire who wants to write mysteries. (The only difference is that I don’t want to be surrounded by dead people…even though I enjoy getting some of their stuff.)
See that collage above? (I got it from a blog called Mrs. Fletcher’s Closet.) I have that typewriter. I have that wall clock. I have jeans. And comfy knitted cardigans. I have some brass pots and pans in my kitchen. And all those paintings hanging in her living room? There are parts of my house where the walls are filled with paintings and photographs.
Honestly…this could easily be Jessica’s guest room in Cabot Cove instead of mine, right? (You know Cabot Cove, don’t you? It’s the place where one out of three residents is either murdered or accused of murder. It’s a wonder anyone wants to live there!)
So, what’s wrong with this, I want to know? Who says I shouldn’t have tchotchkes and pattern and color and the dead people’s stuff?
Was that you?
If it was, then I think it’s time you stopped the negativity and embrace the tchotchkes. I think you need to realize that you too will someday be the keeper of the dead people’s stuff.
You might find yourself turning into Jessica Fletcher.
After all, she knows a lot of dead people.
(If you want to follow me on #31daysofMurderSheWrote, you can follow me on Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook!)
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
How often do you find a graveyard across from your workplace?
And the ONE DAY you happen to have your good camera…
you get there early and have time to take some photos before the fog burns off…
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Friday, October 17, 2014
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
DL went to the UK, and all I got were these pictures.
Well, that’s not exactly true. He ordered me a poppy. The poppy will be sent to me after the installation is removed, after Armistice Day.
History Lesson for Today:
Veteran’s Day (nee Armistice Day) is November 11th each year. It is to commemorate the cease fire on the western front in 1918, on the "eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month." This is when the final poppy will be placed. Each of the ceramic poppies represents a British military fatality during WWI.
DL knew this would be the perfect gift, as both of my grandfathers served in WWI—one with the US infantry and one with the 2nd Central Ontario Regiment.
Why poppies? According to this website, poppies grew in abundance along the western front. So prevalent were they, that Canadian Lt. Col. John McCrae would write the premiere wartime poem:
In Flanders FieldsBy John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row by row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard among the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If yea break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
When I taught middle school, I used this poem to teach symbolism. It has since become one of my favorites. Looking forward to my poppy—thanks, DL!
Sunday, October 12, 2014
I was looking for a little inspiration this week, as I am in a bit of a creative slump. (Covering umpteen dining room chairs will do that to you.) Luckily, I found it!
Linda’s tissue paper flowers are an amazingly easy way to change out a look.
Karen gave me a great way to use those hairpin legs I’ve been hoarding.
Bliss hits the mark again, turning junk into amazeballs.
So I am inspired to get some great stuff made…once I get these *%$#&! chairs finished.
Friday, October 10, 2014
“Hey, potentially pretty chair….
with the ugly stained fabric…
is there something I can help you with?”
(Okay, yes…I AM having a conversation with this furniture. At least it isn’t answering back. Yet. Maybe after another glass of wine.)
“You want to be pretty? I think I can help!”
“Is that better?”
linking to Savvy