Wrinkles Aren't A Bad Thing

Hello Everyone! Let me start out by saying how ashamed I am of myself. I made a resolution that this year will be the start of my blogging on a regular basis. Here we are in the middle of February and this is my first post. I apologize. It certainly isn't because I don't enjoy blogging because I do. Apparently this is going to be a year that starts out a little rocky but it could only mean that it will end with a bang. I say this in hope that life will slow down just a bit allowing me to stay focused on things that I enjoy. This brings me to my post topic.

You know that saying, "Life comes at you fast"? Well, it's true. The older a person gets, the faster life seems to go. When you are young, you can't wait to grow up and when you get older, you want it to slow down.

With life comes wrinkles. They kind of sneak up on you...I'm pretty sure it is when you are sleeping and your guard is down. It seems that everyone dreads finding a new wrinkle but when you think about where they come from, it's not such a bad thing. When you think of all the events in your life that caused these wrinkles...new beginnings, sad endings, the trying of your patients, overcoming challenges that made you a better, stronger person, laughing until your stomach hurts, smiling...kids...It makes it all worth it. Every wrinkle tells a story. No matter how much face cream you use, these are the stories of your life. (Try to stay with me. There's a reason for this story.)

A friend of mine and co booth owner at KnB's Marketplace had a beautiful old ironing board that he had found. He wanted me to do something to it to spruce it up. Again, I forgot to take a good before shot so I apologize for that. I tend to dive in to projects before thinking about taking a picture. The ironing board was somewhat faded looking and had an advertisement paper that was partially peeling off. Overall it was in good shape. Someone had taken pretty good care of it.

We'll pretend that this is the before shot!

I started out by sanding it a little and giving it a new coat of stain to richen the color. I used Modge Podge to adhere and seal the advertisement trying to preserve the original quality of the print. Then I found this catchy little saying..."Every Wrinkle Tells A Story." I thought that was so appropriate to put on an ironing board. I painted the saying on there, antiqued it a bit and gave the board a coat of wax. Finally, I adhered a frame around the print to give it some importance.

I love the way it turned out! I love the quote even more! It is so true. It kind of makes you look at wrinkles in a whole new light, doesn't it? I think it would look great hanging in someone's laundry room or anywhere in a home to remind you that wrinkles aren't necessarily a bad thing. They're the story of your life after all! You can find this and more treasures at The Feathered Nest at KnB's Marketplace in Fuquay Varina, NC.

Blown Away

   I am totally blown away as is just about everyone lately. The storm that has blown across our country has had unbelievable wind gusts with it.  As I was cleaning up our yard this morning, searching for the lid to our beehive, I couldn't believe that just two days ago I was outside in a tee shirt painting some wonderful new things for The Feathered Nest. (Coming soon.)

                                                            Here's a sneak peek...

   I am also blown away by the fact that January is almost over. That means just one thing. Spring is just around the corner!

    I love this time of year! I am not a fan of stormy spring weather although I do love a rainy day. It makes me want to clean up and redo something. I have been tossing around the idea of redoing our master bedroom. As Mary mentioned in our last newsletter, my nest is getting emptier. My middle son has also found his own nest. That now leaves me with two rooms to redo. I suppose I should make that a priority. Any cool ideas of what I should do with the rooms? I would love to hear what you have to say. I should mention that I still have one son living at home so maybe something he would enjoy as well.

In the meantime, try to keep your feet on the ground and enjoy the blustery day.

                                                                                                                  Diane

Don't judge a memory by the layers of old paint

     After many years of "treasure" hunting, one of my most prized finds has to be an item from a local auction that I simply couldn’t resist…an old metal porch glider that immediately caught my attention and warmed my heart.  It was covered in layers of dingy green paint and rusty in a few spots, but that didn’t matter to me.  I just had to bring it home because it reminded me of the glider from my grandmother’s front porch.

     So without a second thought for my skimpy budget, I proceeded to bid tenaciously against a room full of people who also seemed to have had grandmothers…grandmothers who had porch gliders.

     When the tense bidding was finally closed, I was the proud owner of that glider – for quite a bit more than I had planned on spending.  I was excited…and a little queasy.
     I felt better, however, when several auction attendees told me how hard it was to find one of those vintage gliders and how much more expensive they were in antiques shops.  And I only felt a little bit guilty when the lady beside me and fellow bidder mentioned how she had wanted to buy the glider for her husband for his birthday. (His grandmother had one just like it, you see.)
     After my hard fought victory, I still faced one more challenge.  I had to get that thing home.  That meant I had to call my husband and ask for his help – and his truck.
     “You paid how much for that?!” he exclaimed a split second after I pointed out my purchase.
     No matter how many times I stressed what a great deal it was, he couldn’t see beyond the layers of old paint and rust.  So I tried the sentimental approach…
     “My grandmother used to have one just like it,” I said.
     “So?”
     “My cousins and I used to sit together on hot summer days and eat Popsicles,” I added.
     “You hate Popsicles.”
     “You’re missing the point.”
     Finally, I tried the financial approach…
     “You know, in antiques shops these things go for two or three times what I paid,” I said knowingly.
     “Show me one,” he said – ever the skeptic.
     Vindication was mine, however, the moment my two children spied that glider on our front porch.
     “Cool!” said my discerning son, carefully examining the contraption.
     “I love this thing – what is it?!” added my astute daughter, gently pushing back the seat.
     “Can we sit on it?” they asked.
     Maturely controlling the powerful urge to stick out my tongue at my husband, I replied, “Of course…
     “Can I bring you a Popsicle?”

Mary Magoon