I love the idea of recycling and reusing objects in new and unusual ways. To that end, I want my retirement home to be both creatively functional and sustainably comfortable.
Over the years I've made a list of things I want to try. Cutting down old t-shirts to make my quilts and reusable grocery bags. Breaking old dishes for mosaic stepping stones, planters, garden bench too, or or countertops inide. Sawing off rake heads and using them to hang stemware or partitions for cookie sheet storage. It doesn't matter how overused or lame the idea--I love the creative reuse of deconstructed items.
Unfortunately, I can not bring myself to perform the actual destruction of the original item. Even when I buy something from the thrift store or a garage sale for the sole purpose of tearing it down in order to build it back up again. (I've come to the conclusion, no matter how bossy I am, I could never be an effective D.I.)
So I've started to compile a small stockpile of items that have been deconstructed for me.
The good news:
I'm getting close to having enough repurposed pottery shards for a mosaic garden stepping stone, planter, or bird bath.
The bad news:
Tonight I mourn the loss of my favorite purple salad plate which has gone the way of my tiny blue corning ware dish and the blue and white Rachael Ray tapas plate.
I hope pennies are more forgiving than tile floors, because when I build my retirement home, I'm toying with paving the floor of the Arts and Crafts studio with pennies.
Hmmm. Maybe the penies should become the countertops instead. Just to be on the safe side.
About Me
- Loulymar
- My bags are packed and I'm always ready to seek out an adventure with Bandit and Moggy in tow. Bandit is my thirteen year old Chinese Crested, who I frequently call The Bald One or The BaldOne Boy (like he was one of the Baldwin Brothers). Moggy’s full name is Pip-Moggy. He’s my two year old gansta-resuce kitty. I couldn’t decide between Pip (which are the spots on die and domino tiles) and Moggy (or Moggie when I mistakenly thought he was a she), so I combined the two. Moggy refers to the British term for "cat of unknown parentage .” So in essence, I have an almost bald dog, and I’ve named my cat “Spot.”
Wednesday, November 1, 2017
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Two-Minute Mom
It's a girl!
Yep, I became a Mommy to a tiny 3 year old girl for a couple minutes this afternoon.
I was the only shopper on the accessories isle at The Party Store making up a last minute costume to wear with a caftan I already have used as an Alien a few years ago. This year, my idea had already morphed from repeat Alien into Butterfly, and finally settled on Hippie, when the little girl walked up holding out a toy and said, "I want this Mom." I looked behind me for her Mom. I was still alone.
She called me "Mom" again and didn't seem to realize I am not her Mom.
The third time she said it, I asked her where her Mom was. She only looked at me.
About the time I asked her, "Where's your Mommy?" I heard movement on the other side of the isle--the row opposite from where she came. A second or two later a woman appeared. I smiled thinking her Mama had been found.
The woman walked past us. I peeked around both end caps. We were alone. I asked the little girl if she were lost. Tears welled up in her eyes. I was past concerned and well on my way to irritated.
Not at the little girl--but at the absentee Mom, because a bad person could have walked out of the store with her daughter unchallenged.
I told the little girl, "Come with me to the register. We will find your Mommy." She followed, albeit a few feet behind me.
About the time we reached the register (maybe 15 feet away), her Mom realized she was missing. Saddly, here is no telling how long this child roamed the store on her own.
Mom was in line to pay--on the other side of the register--and didn't have a kind word to say to either her little girl, or her Lost-and-Found-Daughter's-2-Minute-Mom.
Yep, I became a Mommy to a tiny 3 year old girl for a couple minutes this afternoon.
I was the only shopper on the accessories isle at The Party Store making up a last minute costume to wear with a caftan I already have used as an Alien a few years ago. This year, my idea had already morphed from repeat Alien into Butterfly, and finally settled on Hippie, when the little girl walked up holding out a toy and said, "I want this Mom." I looked behind me for her Mom. I was still alone.
She called me "Mom" again and didn't seem to realize I am not her Mom.
The third time she said it, I asked her where her Mom was. She only looked at me.
About the time I asked her, "Where's your Mommy?" I heard movement on the other side of the isle--the row opposite from where she came. A second or two later a woman appeared. I smiled thinking her Mama had been found.
The woman walked past us. I peeked around both end caps. We were alone. I asked the little girl if she were lost. Tears welled up in her eyes. I was past concerned and well on my way to irritated.
Not at the little girl--but at the absentee Mom, because a bad person could have walked out of the store with her daughter unchallenged.
I told the little girl, "Come with me to the register. We will find your Mommy." She followed, albeit a few feet behind me.
About the time we reached the register (maybe 15 feet away), her Mom realized she was missing. Saddly, here is no telling how long this child roamed the store on her own.
Mom was in line to pay--on the other side of the register--and didn't have a kind word to say to either her little girl, or her Lost-and-Found-Daughter's-2-Minute-Mom.
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