Epic Facepalm: A Celebration of Fogetting and Frustration

If you are unfamiliar with the word facepalm let me explain . . . . According to the Urban Dictionary, a facepalm is the act of dropping one's face or forehead into one's hand. Usually accompanied by a 
"thunk" or a cry of "Doh!"  As in:  Today I locked my keys in my car.  Again. *facepalm*

Well, unfortunately, I'm all too familiar with this experience as you will gather from the following story:

Things have been slipping my mind for years - at least since I was twenty-eight.  I know this because the year I celebrated my twentieth-eighth birthday was the year I was pregnant with my daughter, Olivia.  I can even prove it, because after her birth was when I started forgetting the names of people and words - they would just slip away without warning.  This marked the time when I had to begin scrolling through my mental dictionary, trying to guesstimate what letter the word or name I was frantically searching for began with.  Sometimes I even tried to figure out how many syllables were involved to speed the process.  When this first began, the lost name, word, or thought would drift back into my head, recovered, kind of quickly.

But here's the thing:  it's gotten worse in the past few years.  And now if my daughter, with her talent for remembering everyone's name or my son and husband with their ability to play charades with me aren't close by, I have to fake it.  Olivia can actually gather that I'm trying to remember Tina Fey's name when I gesture with my hand in a certain way and Noah and the Hubbs can tell me the name I'm looking for is Julie Andrews when I say, "You know . . .  she's  that chick that sings on 
the mountain in that movie and makes matching clothes for that guy's kids out of the family curtains . . . . and there's nuns . . .?"

I try to comfort myself by insisting I'm too young for dementia to be setting in and that it's not so much a "Senior moment" as it's a Freshman or Sophomore moment, instead.

But here's my point:  My forgetting has taken on a new slant.  Now I can't remember if I've shared important information or not.

So, just in case I forgot to mention it . . . . . .

THE SHOP IS OPEN!

We will be closed Sundays and Mondays and open from 11PM - 7 PM Tuesday through Saturday.  The address is 3406 Glenview, Austin Tx, 78703.  You can join The Vintage Laundry on Yelp, Foursquare and check in when you visit and receive a discount on any purchase or you can join us on our Facebook fan page or follow my tweets to get updates on new merchandise, deals, invitations to exclusive events, workshops and lots more.  Also in the works is The Vintage Laundry TV on our YouTube channel that I'm really excited about!!!  More on that later.  I can't wait to share more info and photos!  So, check the blog in the next couple of days to take advantage of all of the goodies that we have planned to celebrate our new store opening!

See you soon,
LeAnn

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So's Your Mom

Something funky is going on in the world of women's underwear . . . .  Well, at least in THIS woman's world.  Don't freak out, I'm not about to over-share or anything, it's just you know how they say that you should always be sure to wear clean underwear just in case you're in a car accident and have to be taken to the hospital?  Well, I have a story to tell you and it's kinda like that . . . kinda.

Until Monday night, last week was shaping up to be marvelously productive.  All day long the kids and I had been zooming around from one task to another, like protons spinning out of control (I may have the science wrong there) when all of a sudden, I had a complete and total nuclear melt down.

For the past month the whole family has been working in the shop trying to prepare for its opening by painting walls, chairs, etc., hanging chandeliers and mirrors, polishing silver, and pricing merchandise.  Monday had been particularly great because it seemed that we were at "full steam" and getting all matter of things accomplished.

And if that wasn't magnificent enough, many, many Diet Dr. Peppers were involved.

So I was working on putting a couple of metal contraptions on the back of a rather large mirror that needed hanging, when it happened.  I was sitting on the floor power-drill in hand just about to make my first pilot hole in the template that came with it when my hand slipped, making a lovely pilot hole in my left thumb, instead.  I quickly reversed the drill and removed the bit from my thumb and then debated upon which to do first . . . vomit or spout a creative stream of obscenities.  Turns out there was a third option which was to burst into inconsolable sobbing - complete with lakes of tears and snot and lots of snubbing just for effect.  To be perfectly honest, I wasn't being a complete wussy for nothing, this puncture ranks as one of my more severe injuries. I mean, when I held it up to the light I could actually see all the way through to the other side.  And there was blood - lots of blood - like in that episode of SNL where Dan Akroyd, dressed as Julia Childs, has just cut his finger and is spurting blood everywhere.  My children quickly grabbed the roll of paper towels and crafted a mighty fine bandage consisting of about twenty-seven sheets of Brawny held together by 2-inch blue painter's tape while the Hubbs located his keys so that we could dash off to the emergency room.

As we ran into the emergency room I became immediately aware that something was wrong, I mean other than my perforated thumb.  I was getting some interesting looks from everyone in the waiting room, which prompted me to turn to the Hubbs and ask, while I tilted my head back and pulled my upper lip over my front teeth, "Do I have a bugger?" or, as I looked down at my pants, "Is my fly open?"  Turns out neither was the case so, I just smiled and stared back at my audience.  The second time I was aware that something was amiss was when the handsome young male nurse led me back to the examination room.

I need to interrupt the story here to share a couple of things about my appearance.  When I dress to go to the shop and paint and sweat and move furniture and sweat and sweat some more, I don't take a lot of care in my appearance - I typically choose a pair of Nike running shorts with one of my husband's "seen-better-days" t-shirts and a tragic looking pair of pink flip  flops.  My attire says, "When I'm not in prison, I enjoy a day of looking homeless."  So, just in case I have to go out in public, each morning I grab a change of clothes from the fresh from the dryer pile that is currently residing on my sofa, clothes that I quickly changed into before heading off to the emergency room.

Okay, so I'm there with the handsome nurse asking me all the usual questions, "How current is your tetanus? . . . . yadda, yadda, yadda.  when I notice that he keeps looking at my chest or rather right below and to the side of my chest.  So, the next time he turns to write on his clipboard I take a quick look at my shirt . . . . . and there "it" is  . . . . containing enough static cling to start a small electrical fire . . . . a pair of my underwear stuck to the side of my T-shirt.

As he turns from his clipboard I ask, "Why didn't you tell me I had underwear stuck to my shirt?"

"That's just how I roll.  It's nice underwear though - my mom has the same kind." he says. 

"Oh, your mom?" is what I said, but this is what I thought:

YOUR MOM!

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Girl Friday: Hammer Time

Right after my fifteenth birthday, my dad strongly suggested I get a summer job.  And by "strongly suggested" I mean every morning, while we were at the kitchen table, he'd stare at me for several moments - kinda blankly, but in a "summing-me-up" kinda way, and then shout over his right shoulder, "This kid needs a job!"  I'm not completely sure who he was talking to because it was just the two of us in the kitchen, but he had a point.  I mean I hadn't taken any steps toward my dream of becoming a millionaire or a rock star, so it was obvious that I needed a little nudge in the career department.  My Mom was a vocational director at the high school where she worked and suggested that I enroll in the vocational program at my high school.  I did and was placed at a beautiful china shop called The Brownie Shoppe.  A lady named Boots (I have no idea what her real name was, this was her nickname) was my manager and I loved her to pieces.  She taught me a lot about the world of work and tutored me in the manner in which to conduct myself while at work.  Plus, she talked me through some occasional teenage angst and like to take soft-serve yogurt breaks!

So, I tell you all of that to tell you this - this summer I'm doing my best impersonation of Boots.  And by that I mean that I have hired my children to help me get the shop ready for opening day and then requested that they continue on as sales staff for the few weeks before they are off to camp at the end of July.  I'm not sure if I have given them any valuable information to take with them on to future jobs but I have learned a little something about myself - I have quite a healthy "micro-manager" streak developing - and I'm sure if you were to ask them, they would say that it's actually a fully developed "micro-manager" streak!

So my kids have become my full-time, on-location carpenters slash painters slash electricians slash plumbers slash landscape experts.  Needless to say neither one of them had previously done a lot of this kind of work, so there has been quite a bit of on the job training.  The other day I was perched on a ladder changing out the gawd-awful  florescent lights that came with the space to something a little more attractive when I had this interaction with my kids:

ME:  Okay, lets see . . .  Oh, it looks like I need a different screwdriver than the one that I brought up here with me . . . could one of you go fetch me a Phillips?  The tool box is in the bathroom . . .

NOAH:  Right . . . I'll go get it  . . .

OLIVIA:  . . . (smiles and let's out a sigh and kinda sways from her heels to her toes as she swings her arms out in front of her and then to the back of her)

ME:  . . . . . . wait, wait and wait some more . . . .

NOAH:  I don't see it anywhere. . . . . . . What IS a Phillips?

OLIVIA:  (with a facial expression I'll never forget, like she was amused and tickled and overwhelmed all at the same time said this)  You named your screwdriver? . . . . how sweet! . . . . What's the hammer's name?

And after that I got nothin' . . . . except to say that my children and the Hubbs have worked the booties off along side me and I love them to pieces and thank them more than words can say!!

So below are a few photos of my children becoming familiar with the tools of their mother's trade and a glimpse or two into the decor choices for the shop.

Color inspiration photo courtesy Boden

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BREAKING NEWS!!!

I admit it.  I flunk blogging.  I'm inconsistent and I take loooooooong breaks in between posts.

But today, I have news . . . BIG news!

If my blog were one of those 24-hour news channels like CNN or MSNBC, it would be running an endless loop of white banners at the bottom of your computer screen with phrases like VINTAGE LAUNDRESS SIGNS LEASE and LAUNDRESS TO REOPEN BRICKS AND MORTAR SHOP.  And, under the white banners would be "the crawl," - you know the endless moving line of script that reports the steps that I have taken over the last several weeks to prepare for opening day, from the paint colors that I have chosen to cover the walls of the store, to the number of friends, family and even customers that have come out of the woodwork to help get this venture up and running, to how much paint I find in my hair, under my fingernails, and on every single t-shirt and pair of shorts that I own on a daily basis.  I might even resort to using one of the most oversold phrases on the planet and slap a bright red banner that reads "BREAKING NEWS" across my blog header just for funzies. 

All of which you might think a little excessive, but I'm really excited about reopening the shop and want to share the details.  I mean, you have to admit, it's not like my BREAKING NEWS is something obvious like;  BREAKING NEWS:  NUNS DON'T CUSS or BREAKING NEWS: IT'S GOOD TO HAVE EARS.

So, back to my point (and I've buried my lead as usual);
BREAKING NEWS:  I'M REOPENING THE SHOP!

Below are a few photos of the shop before I got my hands and paint on it.  Thursday and Friday I will share "after" photos and supply the "what", "when" and "where" details of the grand opening.

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Contain Yourself: Narrowed Minded New York Nest

In past posts I have made it abundantly clear that I have a bit of crush on Cary Grant. I think he's dreamy and he makes my heart do the cha-cha. He always seemed to portray in his films some version of the "man-of-the-world," or of himself, which seems to me to amount to the same thing. I believe he was the last of the truly elegant men. He was cosmopolitan but strong, absurdly good looking, but self-effacing, a cutup who could be a bit of a scoundrel, even a little wicked, but in the end, he would always do the right thing. In short, he was the man women yearned for and men yearned to be. He was one-of-a-kind, just like his former residence in New York.

If you missed last week's post featuring a home constructed from shipping containers you can check it out here.  In today's Contain Yourself post, I'd like to share photos of Mr. Grant's former home at 75 1/2 Bedford St. in New York City. At 9½ feet wide, it's the narrowest house in Manhattan. And you're in luck because it is back on the market. But, you will need long pockets if you want to live there because the asking price is a whopping $4.3 million, which is twice what it sold for in 2010. Other luminaries who have slept between its narrow walls are Pulitzer Prize winner Edna St. Vincent Millay, actor John Barrymore, anthropologist Margaret Mead, and cartoonist, William Steig.

The home has been meticulously renovated.

Just enough room for a bathtub.

 

The house has become part of New York's tourist trail

Photos courtesy Curbed, Daily Mail, and Alamy

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Brilliant Bergeres, Barbara Barry Wannabees and Chinese Take-out

As I've said many times before, I think custom furniture is like couture in the closet. Take this pair of beautiful vintage Bergere chairs, for instance, and have our studios reupholster it in a fabric of your choice and maybe jazz up the woodwork with a new stain or a painted effect.

These 1950s reproduction Bergere chairs would look marvelous re-worked in a heavy linen or maybe a rich velvet. The square upholstered back joins a padded arm above a down and duck feather cushion with a serpentine apron raised on graceful cabriole legs. These simply exceptional pieces would elevate the class and grace of any room. Their frames are sturdy but present fabric is worn and needs replacing - each chair will need 6 yards of a solid fabric and 7 yards of a fabric that is patterned. The leg can be either left with the original patina or can be re-stained or treated with a paint effect.

Second in line are these signature chairs that possess a back design that is composed of a couple of graceful wood ovals that create a beautifully intriguing form. There is something about these chairs that remind me of Barbara Barry's Bracelet chair. The clean lines and elegance of the back make them timeless pieces and the seat cushions can be revamped again and again. The wood can be left as is with its worn patina or can be re-stained or treated with a paint finish. I have three of these chairs available.

Last on the list of new inventory is this vintage reproduction Black Chinese Chippendale End Table is stunning! It has a removable rectangular lacquer tray with repetitive gilt border on a black lacquer stand. The faux bamboo turned legs have marvelous gilt accents and are connected with a second fixed black tray.

Hope you all have a marvelous weekend and if you get a moment, I hope you can check out my other new inventory listings here.

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Want It Wednesdays: Cerise's Pieces (get it like Reese's Pieces!)

Photos courtesy Lomography, Design Shop UK, 1stdibs and Shrimpton Couture 


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Contain Yourself: Debbie Glassberg

Everyone has their porn. Mine is home design. I also dabble in DIY, which I'm pretty sure is a kinky subculture - the S and M of home decor, if you will. I'm not entirely sure how this happened or when, but this much I AM sure of, shelter magazines, home improvement shows on TV, and big-box stores constantly enabled me. I futz around my house with the tenacity of an obsessive compulsive - think Monk or Rain Man only with ovaries and a paint brush. Don't misunderstand, a neat freak I am not - far from it. As a matter of fact, there are times when my house can be so cluttered that one might need a sherpa to find his way safely from the bedroom to the kitchen. I'm sorry to say that my housekeeping skills don't serve so much as a good example as they are a horrible warning. I've never claimed that cleaning and organizing are my thing. I flunked "tidy" but I'm top of my class in "topcoat," "tack hammer" and "painter's tape."

So, with that in mind, today I would like to begin a new series of weekly (unless I get lazy) posts called "Contain Yourself," where I will share photos and links to what other home design junkies choose as containers for their families, their stuff, and their lives.

Today's home is from Debbie Glassberg, an industrial and toy designer from "Our Man Stan's" hometown of Kansas City, who recently took on something a little larger, seeing homes where others saw only metal boxes.

You know those metal shipping containers that you see on rail cars? Yeah, the ones with the graffiti and the rust. Well, Glassberg has designed a home, made from those metal containers and placed it in the aging Kansas City neighborhood of Brookside.

The home is made from five shipping containers. It’s a little over 2,000 square feet. Her container home is green with geothermal heat, soy foam insulation, bamboo flooring, and LED lighting. Debbie’s father, who owns a factory in China, was able to negotiate with individual Chinese manufacturers for all aspects of the interior of the home cutting thousands of dollars from the cost.

In the middle of the house is a galley kitchen. She didn’t have a lot of space because she was using just the container space. So on one side she made a more of a shallow counter and filled it with energy efficient appliances. There is also a window in the kitchen to serve your guests outside.

The master bedroom is constructed of two nine and a half foot containers that are joined together. She made a his and hers closet that is designed very simply with two boxes and rails making for really sufficient hanging space. Then she created one nice drawered piece of furniture to hold all her other things. Additionally, on the second floor adjacent to the deck is a rooftop edible garden.

Cargo containers are now gaining the attention of many architects, engineers, and designers as a useful architectural material. Glassberg joined with many other container lovers and had the Home Contained built. Aside from the cargo containers, the Home Contained has other earth-friendly features, which include green roof, geothermal heating, insulated walls and solar panels. With these features, occupants will be able to save on their energy usage and money as this will surely keep their electricity bill lower than it should be if they chose to use first hand materials, opt not to have solar panels, and the like.

Photos and video courtesy Home Contained, igreenspot, and YouTube

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The Honey Trees: Magic in Music Form

If you have a pulse, it's likely that you have seen Audrey Hepburn perform Moon River in Breakfast at Tiffany's. This is a beautiful cover done by The Honey Trees that I can't wait to share with you.

Artists Becky Filip and Jacob Wick are The Honey Trees, and according to their very brief bio, are a band that tries to create magic in music form.

I think they're a couple of very talented "Houdinis!"

Video by Meg Isaacs and Luke Severn, audio by Travis Whitney, editing by Kyle Hammond, produced by Ben Ayers, video courtesy The Lofi Sessions.


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Ladies of the Land

This is my sister D'Aunn presenting my Mom with flowers on a Mother's Day many years ago.

On this Mother's Day, I would like to honor a group of women I like to call "The Ladies of the Land."  They consist of not only my mother, my daughter, my aunts, sisters, and nieces but of all of the women in my life, past and present.  I want to thank and honor not only my mother, but all of the women who make up a small, but critically important circle of support; support and love that I have had the privilege of receiving my whole life long.

These women sail through their lives and mine while doing that "limping-one-minute-carrying-the-next" thing that women do.  I have conferred with one or the other of them about bumps and moles, teachers, carbs and stained rugs.  Together we have worried about who seems down, who looks happy, and who has lost their figure and/or their mind.  Many have offered guidance when I'm spiritually perplexed, held my hand through heart-breaking loss, and celebrated with me in times of great joy.  They can tell something is wrong by the way I say "Everything is fine," and have lived their ordinary lives with extraordinary grace and strength while teaching me how to star in my own life.  If I killed someone, they would show up with shovels and help me bury the body - accessory after the fact be damned.  They have rallied around me and held me up when I was bringing a new life into the world and stood beside me and honored the memory of a loved one as they left this world.

More often than not, over the past forty-five years, I have been the fortunate recipient of wisdom passed out around kitchen tables while questioning the pros and cons of parenting, marriage, Spanx, government, and the minutia of life in general.  My life has been built upon the bones of these conversations and I find myself referring back to these talks for answers. My life would not have been as full or as happy without the influence of all of these women and I am immensely grateful for the education, love, and comfort they have provided for me.

I love you all more than you can ever know,
LeAnn

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Cantilevering My "Buttress"

It's getting warm and my garden is getting a little overgrown and I need to tend to it.  When I'm working out in the garden my attire consists of a swim suit, running shorts, a crappy pair of tennis shoes and zinc oxide on my nose, to add to my hot-ness.

When I was younger swim suits were fun and sexy.  Bikini's were one of the main implements in my seduction tool kit - the other was being really cling-y - men love that!  Anyway, my point is this, swimwear used to work for me - I couldn't wait to get out on the lake in my new suit.

Well, that was then and this is now.

Now, I wouldn't be caught dead in a bikini.  Now I buy costly one piece contraptions that Isaac Newton would marvel at.  I ask a lot from my swimsuits these days, to begin with they have to lift and separate.  And if I'm really fortunate I can find one that helps cantilever my "buttress," if you know what I'm sayin', while generally defying gravity.

So the other day, after I had delayed the inevitable as long as I could, I dug last year's suit out of my drawer and began the arduous task of squeezing into it.  First I guided my left and then right foot into the appropriate leg holes and proceeded to tug and heave the Lycra up over my hips, then past my waist (also known as a floatation device,) finishing by wiggling the "breast-icle" portion of my frame into place by slipping the straps over my shoulders with a snap.

As I walked over to the mirror to check the fit I noticed a few things.  First and foremost, I couldn't breathe and I was getting a little light headed from lack oxygen.  Also, I noticed a sharp pain in the booty area - Seems the crotch region of the suit was giving me a do-it-yourself colonoscopy without the benefit of anesthesia.  Additionally, there was a lot of homeless flesh hanging around looking a lot like my own personal floaties.  The only upside to this whole deal was that most of the heft that has taken up residence in my mid section was being relocated up toward my chest.  And for the first time since the birth of my son, I had knockers!  Big-huge-men-would-struggle-with-maintaining-eye-contact-kinda-knockers!  But, even that had its downside because the suit had forced everything up so high that it's possible that I had an extra pair of breasts above my collar bone.  Not only that but, I noticed a new mole on my neck that I suspect used to be a nipple.  

Anyway, as usual, I told you that story so I could tell you this one. 

Last year about this time began a particularly trying and stressful time in my life.  Without trudging through the details I'll just relay that life was dealing me and my little family a lot of hard blows and our spirits were pretty low.  So, I did what I normally do when things get stress-y and little too intense I broke out the 3 P's;  First I panicked, I  and then I prayed and then I planted.  I got this notion from Lady Bird Johnson who is credited with saying that where flowers bloom so does hope.  So, after receiving a few rose bushes for Mother's Day and then a few more for my birthday in June and even more for an anniversary in August I began with this garden.  And I'd like to share some photos of how it looked then and how it looks today.

My front yard had a spot at the corner that refused to grow grass.  Every spring I would put new sod down and every summer it would burn to a crisp.  So last spring I decided to rent a tiller and turn that corner into a rose garden and add a river rock path to my front door.  And since I'm the "Queen of Cheap" most all of the supplies like garden edging, mulch and river rock cost me nothing thanks to a daily habit of scouring the "Free" section of my local Craigslist.  After the $50 dollars it cost to rent a tiller for a day, all I was out was some sweat equity.

So here goes:

 

Above I have pictured just a few of the roses that I planted.  The names of all of the roses are:  Heirloom Hybrid Tea Rose, Arizona Grandiflora Rose, Queen Elizabeth Grandiflora Rose, Sunsprite Floribunda Rose, Mister Lincoln Hybrid Tea Rose, Royal Highness Hybrid Teas Rose, Diamond Jubilee Hybrid Tea Rose and three bushes that were labeled simply Rose.

Below are a few pics of the river rock path, the garden edging and the mulch I picked up for "free" on Craigslist.

And pictured below is how they have grown a year later.  They are all at least a foot and a half taller in height and have been covered in blooms since the middle of March.

Now that is a lot of bloomin' hope!

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City Wide This Weekend

Well, I hope those of you who are brand loyal to Jesus enjoyed your Easter weekend.  I myself am of that persuasion and had a lovely weekend with my kids, my niece and my brother-in-law.  We attended our church services as a group and then my bro-in-law treated all of us to a marvelous lunch at one of our favorite restaurants.

This weekend my plans are a little different - I will be showing at the City Wide Garage Sale at the Palmer Events Center here in Austin.  I've been preparing other goodies for this weekend's (April 30th and May 1st) City Wide Garage Sale at Palmer Events Center here in Austin. My booth is #221 near the red skirted info desk. There is a $7 charge to park in the garage or there is a free parking lot at One Texas Center on the Southwest corner of So. First and Barton Springs, as well.

Saturday morning between 8:30am - 10am, City Wide offers early shopper passes for $10 each.  This allows those who so choose to have early access to the show and get first dibs on vendors' merchandise before the general admission customers enter at 10am.

I hope you get a chance to come and see me, cuz I have some really marvelous goodies this show!

Have a great weekend and I'll see every back here Monday!

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I Don't Think That's a Thing

I'm not very good with "idioms."  I've been known to combine two different expressions resulting in a lot of puzzled reactions from the people to whom I am speaking.  For example, I've found it necessary on many occasions to say, "I just can't seem to get all my ducks on the same page," to suggest that  I'm unorganized.  And I warn my kids all too often to not, "Count their chickens before they get their heads cut off." 

I misunderstand the wording of things, as well.  For instance, when I was a little girl I was deathly afraid of weasels because I thought that that was what was being said in the Lord's prayer.  You know, the part were you're supposed to say, ". . . lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil?"  I thought I was supposed to say, " . . . deliver us from weasels."  And I couldn't imagine how weasels could be so dangerous and why we had to impose on God to protect us from them.  Additionally, instead of the Virgin Mary I thought they were saying "the Verg and Mary," which spurred lots of questions like, "Who's this Verg guy? and what were his intentions concerning Mary?"

So, my family has come up with a mechanism to deal with my misinformed expressions and misunderstood words.  When I happen to turn a phrase the wrong way my family says, in the nicest possible way, " Honey/Mommy, I don't think that's a thing."

I find it fascinating how people always bring their own stuff into words and in return can create some really hilarious interactions and situations. We, my family and I, have actually started collecting "I don't think that's a thing" examples from the world at large. We share them with each other on an almost daily basis and I thought maybe you might get a giggle or two out of my most recent addition.

Today's "I don't think that's a thing" happened last week while I was getting the brakes fixed on my soccer Mom van.  I was sitting in the waiting area reading a two-year-old issue of People magazine when a really flustered young woman walked in.  She had what my children might refer to as a "I'm-trying-not-to-catch-on- fire" look about her.  As the young woman began to open her mouth to address the man behind the counter, he gave her the finger - no, not that finger, but the index one - which even I know is the universal symbol for, "Hush up!  Can't you see I'm on the phone?"  As he hung up the phone he turned his gaze back to the young woman and asked, "May I help you, Miss?"  She responded with, "Yes, I think my car is out of gravy!"  He scrunched his eyebrows together, retracted his chin back into his neck, took a deep breath, and shot me a look that seemed to say, "Really?" and then responded with, "Miss, I'm pretty sure neither one of us knows what you are talking about."  She then replied, "Yeah, that little Aladdin's lamp looking-light keeps flashing at me - and I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to drive without gravy cuz' it might stall out and then I'd have to be jacked off."

All I can say after that is . . . Money can't buy happiness but it can buy me new brakes and supply me with a funny story and lots of laughs, which is kinda the same.

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Grafters: ¡el grupo!

It's Grafters day on the blog. And today, I have a whimsical piece by a group of designers and craftsmen with a passion to create and influence the world around them called ¡el grupo!.

This playful piece of street art, entitled Moustache Rides, is a see-saw built for waiting customers at East Austin's El Chilito taco stand. The see-saw was built from discarded phone booths and lined with rhino liner, a covering typically sprayed on truck beds for weather protection. The sunglasses and seat backs are made of wood that is burned using a weatherizing process called "shou sugi ban," which is a process traditionally used on Japanese homes. Sugi is known as Japanese cedar, but it's really more of a cypress and it is burned to resist rot and fire.

This is the first project by, a creative collective recently formed in Austin, Texas, as part of The Pay Phone Revival Project back in November of 2010. They have a blog where you can go for more info and photos about the process.

Great fun and very Grafter-esque!

Photos courtesy Nicolas Rivard, ¡el grupo!, and The Pay Phone Revival Project

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Grafter: Frederique Morrel

Hi Everyone, welcome back to my Grafters series. If you missed the two previous posts I featured Shannon South of reMade USA and Carolina Fontoura Alzaga. Today I would like to introduce you to Frederique Morrel.

I have to admit that I'm not a big fan of taxidermy. It just seems a bit gross and gory. But that was before I discovered Frederique Morrel˙s marvelous work. Her sense of humor gets me initially, and then the upcycling element or "decycling," as she puts it, grabs my attention next. I so enjoy her work. It makes me giggle and stand in awe. She's truly an original!

Vintage tapestries are gathered by family and friends to fit fiberglass taxidermy molds that have been injected with expanding foam. Realistic details such as teeth, tongue, hooves and ears are finished with resin or latex and then airbrushed. Real antlers, discovered by her "horny" husband, are fixed to the head and then the entire mold is covered with the vintage tapestries.

The special ingredients and materials she uses tell stories of simple and ideal happiness. These enchanting heirlooms have elevated taxidermy to a new level and I would love to have one of her works in any part of my home! Hope you are as taken with her as I am!

This is Frederique Morrel.  She began this quest after being troubled by the fact that her grandmother's needlework was discarded when she passed away. Ever since, she has been obsessed with the idea of making them come back to life, obsessed with the redemption of her grandmother's ardent work.

And this is Aaron Levin.  He is the guardian of the Frederique Morrel brand. He is often on the lookout for rare tapestries.  And together this power couple has taken on the task of re-enchanting the world. And, in my opinion, the stories told through these marvelous works of art have more than accomplished that goal.

Every piece is one-of-a-kind.

Meet Tony and Eva.

Images courtesy Frederique Morrel.

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Want It Wednesdays: Out of the Blue

Photos courtesy Etsy, Quench Metalworks, Brooklyn Retro and Gardenhouse

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Eco Art Youth Recycling Contest

Unfortunately, I just learned of this a few moments ago and the entry deadline is today but, I had to let you know about a great event shared with me by a reader after reading today's Grafter post. Eco Art Youth Recycling Contest, to quote the reader that shared this with me," This is where young grafters are at work!"

According to their web page the Rodeo Austin's Eco Art Youth Recycling Contest gives students the chance to revitalize recycled items to create a work of art, a functional piece or anything else that showcases innovation through re-used materials.

Here are a few of the contest details:

•  Eligibility: Open to any Texas student 5-18 years of age. No school or organization affiliation required.
•  Individual Divisions: 5-8 years of age, 9-13 & 14-18
•  Team Divisions: 14-18 years of age, minimum of 2 or maximum of 6 students per team
•  Entry fee: $10 per entry
•  Entry deadline: February 15, 2011

The entries will be displayed March 24th from 10:00 AM - 07:00 PM. I'll have to get back with everyone about the location.

 

 Photos courtesy Rodeo Austin and Rodeo Austin's Eco Art Youth Recycling Contest

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Grafter: Carolina Fontoura Alzaga

If you missed my first post on my new Grafter series featuring those folks that have a talent for making something out of nothing, no biggy, you can go back and read it later.  Last week I featured Shannon South of reMade USA and today I would like to introduce you to Carolina Fontoura Alzaga a  multidisciplinary artist with a penchant for re-purposing castoff materials.

Carolina Fontoura Alzaga upcycled lighting designs are a step above the rest. At first glance I thought that maybe one of the components looked a little bit like a bicycle rim and then slowly I started to realize that the beads were not beads but bike chains! Inspired by Victorian chandeliers, DIY culture and bikes, the bike chain chandeliers designed and made by Carolina start out as anything but artistic but end up exquisite works of art.

She combines the elegance of a Victorian age with discarded bike parts resulting in a stellar example of grafter art, as well as upcycling done right.

If you are a Grafter or know of someone who is please get in touch with links and photos of your creations.

Photos courtesy Carolina Fontoura Alzaga and Re-Nest.

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Happy Valentine's Day!

Image courtesy Wikimedia


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My Little Happy Place: Would you ever?

Many thanks to Alison over at My Little Happy Place!