Bedheaded Randomness

Monday I took advantage of a husband home and a temporarily sick baby to tackle a project. I think this is the first thing I've ever done within a few days of thinking I wanted to do it and then buying the materials and finishing the whole thing in one day.

I might actually be shedding the procrastinating shell.

Yeah, I'm dreaming on.

I even bought the board and had the nice man cut it at Home Depot for me all by myself. The fabric store was not so easy--apparently I've mixed up my holidays and Monday was the Day For Sewing Ugly Things Day. (And the let's be redundant day)

I seriously do not know what those ladies were thinking up in their heads. My favorite was the little old lady with a shopping cart full of cut pieces of fleece. I admit it has been cold.

Then there was the lady who looked like she'd just travelled a time machine and came straight from the 90's with no detours to Macy's who was buying green shiny sequiny trims (3 kinds!) and told the cutter she was making a St Patrick's Day sweater.

?!

Anyway, I digress and get a little rude.

Seriously, I'm worried about that sweater.

Moving on.

Any guesses to what this is going to be?

It was at this point that I began to wonder what I was thinking trying to do this by myself and if I'd finish before the kids and husband got back from sledding.

Anyway, here's a before of the intended project's place.

Which obviously is a headboard.

Yes, we've been living with ghetto bed for a while.
I haven't talked the Money Maker into this or this from Pottery Barn yet.

Here's what I ended up with:
I made the bed especially for you.

I really did this on Monday and not last summer.

Here is where I highly recommend having a lot of boxwood shrubs outside and then letting them get overgrown so you can enjoy them from inside all year.

Even though you might not enjoy still having nasty metal windows with holey screens.
Stupid economy and 1960's windows that are 17.2 feet wide and cost $500 but were less $$$ three years ago when the rest of the windows were replaced. And of course we have two. Apparently they still didn't have much electricity in the early 60's, hence explaining the large windows on every wall and the average of 1.75 outlets in every room. No, we never worry about fire at Christmas time.

Yeah we don't ever leave our bedroom in last place to get beautified. There aren't Huggies boxes full of pictures from the living room piled on our dresser. Nor is there a broken rocking chair at the end of the bed.
All kinds of classy going on over here.

Clearly I though I lot of pictures of the same thing at different angles would be vastly fascinating for you all.

Consider that wish fulfilled.

Now can somebody please explain the need to watch TV (or not) like this?

This is the safe version--usually that rocking chair is on the table. The new stadium seating.

Now I would like you all to think that the windows are entirely covered in snow to elicit pity from those not living with us in Klondikeville, but I think we actually had sun shining. Reflecting off the multitudes of snow.

Wii are so glad this lives at Grandma's.

Notice his hands are a blur.

Speaking of Grandma, for Valentine's Day she gave the grandchildren stickers,

and markers.

Yes, that's my couch. This time it was Mr Tornado, who was home alone with Dad.

Oh, and could someone please explain the meaning of this?

That would be the Dora potty-training seat for those who might not recognize it.

Apparently we're all kinds of desperate for summer.

And should not be left alone for any amount of time during a bath.

Untacky Valentines

Wish I were smart enough to come up with things like this on my own.

Want to make awesome Valentine's (assuming you know how to use Photoshop, which I don't)?

See what this gal did.

Yes, go right now, it's a short post.

A Clean Well-Lighted Place

In my dreams.

We have more of a dirty well-lighted place. We can see all the mess better. I'm a little under the weather today, so of course I must blog. I love blogging. You see so much and learn so many new things. Like how to waste a colossal amount of time and come out of it with dirty kids, an unkempt house, and no dinner. Oh boy, do I love it! (For real.)

A couple of months ago and last week, I finally implemented what I'd learned from blogging for something other than mistreatments. And good thing I learned it doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful because these are far from perfect.

I learned from this resourceful and classy lady how to do this (though mine aren't as fancy):

Slightly improved my old soda can lamp I made in 7th grade. I always disliked the cheap shade and now it's covered with musliny burlap. That blue fabric is covering an old, dented Dr Pepper can.

The recover inspired by the pom pom fringe I'd already started gluing around the bottom and ripped off to add fabric.

It looked a bit...formal.

And while we were at it, I made a bed for L's robot dog out of a shoebox I've been hoarding.

The $8 robot dog, not Bisquit the $170 robot dog. I even used my sewing machine for the second time since I got it for Christmas to make the dog a pillow. Last Christmas. And Sister, I used the rotary blade--and the pinking blade is awesome. It's fun being creative when you only yell a little bit and send minimal swearing to the fabric that's always slipping and the sewing machine that you think has joined the pact of all sewing machines, who have something eternally against you.

Getting Ready For Christmas

I hate when I take a ton of pictures of things to blog about, don't blog about them and then end up with so many unfulfilled dreams. Or something like that. Maybe if I weren't so wordy.

So brace yourself a little.

We made Gingerbread houses with Grandma.

So colorful.

See that little hand?

So proud.

Don't even last a day.

I copied these fabulous gals and made these little men out of my pumpkins.

And Mr Destructo got to them.

He kept saying, "It fell over," and grinning and laughing at himself.

He'd knocked. the. head. off.

And I was standing right by him!

Like the white 80's toothbrush splatters? It was no toothbrush, my friends. You can achieve the same look with spray paint when you're trying to fix a little spot without taking everything apart. Don't try it. Doesn't work. You end up with the overdone-and-so-yesterday-splattered-toothbrush-paint look.

Finished decorating.

The boxes are actually gone.

Last year I left them out all year--in my room. Turned out to be a good move when it wouldn't stop snowing and the sheds outside were buried.

The piano is filled with breakable Mr Destructo and S-man temptations.

Took the Nester's advice and combined all four skinny garlands I had into one big one. I cannot believe I never even combined two together before--how did I survive with skinny garlands all this time and actually think they looked good?!

The horrors.

Tonight I made my famous orange fudge. I'm so full of myself. The first year it was great (I'm guessing from the feedback), and last year just good, so I think I brought it back to it's mighty goodness this year, for all those who care. You know who you are.

While I was trying to zest a Clementine on the top, I dropped it in.

Meanwhile, the husband was playing with the kids and S-man threw a toy at him. All I heard was a mad rush for the bathroom and the husband yelling, "He threw a toy at me and my ear's gushing blood!"

I thought he was kidding. Because he kids that way.

He wasn't.

I heard the inevitable, "Can you get blood out of a white shirt?"
He's a big boy, so I figured he could clean himself up, and went about my business.

While I was thinking of getting the camera to photograph my orange dropped in the fudge, the husband yelled, "Aubrey, You want to get the camera and take a picture of this for your blog?"

(Aren't they funny how they want blog attention all the while cursing blogging and it's direct effects on the messy house and unclothed children?)

Nice, isn't it? I took the picture and he asked, "How does it look?"

"It looks pretty bad." (Um, duh, right?)

"Oh," chuckle, "I meant the picture." Never mind that I'm bleeding down my face. Priorities.

Then I was talking about putting liquid band-aid on it, and Lexie honed in on 'band-aid' and asked her dad, "Do you want a Scooby-Doo or Dora band-aid?"

We're not outrageous or anything.

The weapon of mass destruction (that will involve Spray 'N' Wash).
Oh, just a little thing, I finally talked the husband into

a new sofa.

Uh, we figured out the secret to getting the seat covers on straight on the third cushion.

Love Ikea. Love Ektorp. Love slipcovers. I am so on top of getting Christmas presents done early this year.

That ear-cutter is leering like a Chucky doll.

Plagiarizing Kimba

Does anyone ever click on those blogs I've got on my link list? You know, on the blogs belonging to strangers? They're worth checking out. Or they wouldn't be there. My point. Ever clicked on A Soft Place to Land? If you haven't, you're missing out. The gal is crazy and spray paints everything and the staple gun is her best friend. Kimba is her name and she inspired me to do a little reupholstering of my own thanks to her highly-instructive tutorials.

I Kimbaed some chairs.

Let me share how.

First, buy six uglyish chairs at a consignment store because all your handed-down, Shop-ko Windsor knock-offs are falling apart (or are already long gone) at an alarming rate.

See their potential.

All the while secretly wishing they were more like this:

Spray paint them all Heirloom White.

(With a $3 lamp base.)

Search all over northern Utah at every conceivable fabric store you know of (of which there aren't many) to find what you want (even though you're really not going for anything trendy and people will wonder just why you were so desperate to find what you ended up with), after going back and forth between several ideas, including, but not limited to, oilcloth, faux leather, vinyl, and various upholstery fabrics. End up settling on various quilting fabrics. (Yes I'm nuts. And now we really see why it was good I quit pursuing an Interior Design degree. Early on.)

Start to hate shopping.

Meanwhile tear off old, nasty fabric, along with a few fingernails (or almost, anyway). Let cursing ensue. Enlist the help of husband with stronger fingernails. Find needle nose pliers and box knife more effective during the movie.
Get grievously injured by over-aggressive staple.

Be surprised more cursing doesn't ensue.

(Just kidding, I left the blood there for dramatic effect. It is Halloween.)
(And to clean staple germs out the old-fashioned, natural organic way.)

Let rest of house fall apart. (Then fail to find the picture you thought you took of it.)

Who am I kidding? It looks a mess all the time! Just drop by unannounced, prepare yourself for Unshowered Barbie Aubrey and you'll get a first-hand witness to the chaos.

Share some witchy love.

Don't you love the fabric of her dress?

Overcome fear of the staple gun. Recover chairs with long-sought-after-confused-eyebrow-raising fabric.

Then, Marie Barone them.

(Oops didn't take a picture of the vinyl.)

Yes. Clear vinyl. We are going for super classy. Have you not read my profile? And need I remind everyone that this is headquarters for Bad Housekeeping Quarterly (because apparently that's how frequently I'm inspired to write a contributing article. That's if we ever get past the first)? And because that's how often I do deep cleaning things, like, wiping off chairs.

Did you get a good look at that picture of the paper that was under the vinyl? You can cover everything! Check it out--go cover your chaise lounges because who doesn't love laying out and getting hot and sticking. (That was not a typo.) And let's all rush out and cover our picture frames! Hurry, do it NOW!!

Enlist the help of a friendly handy man to put them back together. And a crazy transient who answers to Mr Destructo and is indifferent to being fully potty-trained, despite the benefit of getting to wear Thomas the Train and Lightning McQueen underwear.

And end up with 6 much better Kimbaed chairs.

Except hers are classier.

I was going for some kind of vintagey-50's-grandma's kitchen look.

(I'm defending myself because I was reading an article in Better Homes & Gardens--which is never good, by the way, it just makes you depressed about your house--about a lady whose house was decorated in neutrals and blues and she said something about not using too much color or your house will look like a circus. Of course, I felt immediately insecure and want to redo everything, but I'll abstain. And don't get me started on the article I read about the people whose house was rustic but not too countryish, and the Don't on the next page that say "The small, busy patterns that used to define country now appear old-fashioned." Well thanks a lot, that sure boosted my self-confidence!!!) (I told you it wouldn't be good.)

The result: Welcome to the Circus my friends!!!!
Please try not to see the trapped long black hair and carpet fodder stuck on the orange chair--forever enshrouded and protected.
There's a color for everyone. So we all know where to go.

If I haven't already told them.

(By the way, I'm so glad I half-heartedly edited this because for some completely nutso-I-must-really-be-losing-my-marbles reason, I was using "than's" intead of "then's". Oh the scandal that would surely have ensued and that's all in my head. Really, it's all that's left.)