I’ve always loved those gorgeous wreaths I see on doors on the blogs I follow. I’m not a wreath kind of person really, but I was inspired.
In my scavenge hunt in the wood pile in the back paddock a couple of weeks ago I found 4 rusty old wire coat hangers. They were gorgeous! All bent out of shape but perfect.
When is rusty metal not perfect?
I took the old coat hangers to the living room where I sat them on the coffee table. The coffee table which is my second office and cluttered with an assortment of projects in various stages from conception to completion.
Do people actually use coffee tables to put coffee on? Mine is only used for its pre-destined purpose when I’m expecting visitors.
One thing mom did instill in me despite my rebellion, was the need to present a clean/neat home to visitors. Like a good greek girl.
I’ll never forget… of all the things mom made me wash, scrub and clean, the garbage bin was one I just could not understand. I mean, its a bin. By definition, its dirty. You put rubbish in it. Why would you want to clean it?
Mom’s favourite sayings when it came to me and my
lack of cleaning skills: “What? Doesn’t that belong to us?”
Years later, in my own flat, with my very own bin, I caught myself washing it out in the bathtub.
Don’t tell my mother. She’ll know she was right.
So I’m houseproud. Despite the vomit stains on the carpet (to which collection Montana added another stain this morning at 4am. I was shot out of bed like the projectile did from her stomach).
She was very considerate. She vomitted right outside the bedroom door so I wouldn’t have to strain my ears to hear her hawking…
So, despite the vomit stains on the carpet, the burns around the fireplace from escaping burning debris (who makes a hearth that’s only 6in wide???) and the fact that we have salmon coloured carpet, I clean, tidy, vacuum and put away the 1024 chewed dog toys before visitors arrive.
(If we never had visitors the house would probably only get vacuumed once a year. Whether it needed it or not.)
I hate vacuuming. When we were kids, my brother and I had household chores. I did the dishes, the hanging out laundry, the bringing in laundry, the ironing, the dusting, the folding of clean clothes and the cleaning of the bathrooms. Peter did the vacuuming.
Does anyone see a pattern of ‘greek mother’s golden egg’?
As a girl, I had to learn to keep home for my eventual (and elusive) family.
As a boy all Peter had to do was produce an heir to carry on the family name.
Since we were an enlightened family, my mom gave a nod to the whole SNAG thing by asking Peter to vacuum.
a. a sausage on an aussie BBQ, usually charred to the texture of charcoal
b. a Sensitive New Age Guy – a man who puts the toilet seat down and who’s culinary skills extend beyond ‘spag bol’ (aka spaghetti bolognese to those who prefer using all syllables in a word).
I love my home. I want it to look good, comfy, welcoming. I like to make it look good in the eyes of strangers. Or friends who rarely visit. Friends who visit often have to take us as we are: with mud tracks in the kitchen, dog hair in the office and decapitated toys on the couch.
One day, when I replace the carpet, I’ll sweep and mop regularly and the house will always be clean. Right now its almost like that carpet and I are at war. I’m glare at it, daring it to do its worst. Waiting… biding my time to launch an attack…
Anyway, I was talking about this beautiful heart wreath I made for our (as yet unpainted) front door.
When I reclaimed the coat hangers I bent them all into heart shapes. Lovely!
I then tramped through long grass and mud to some willow trees down by the railway track on the road to town and collected some willow branches. Never having done this before I wasn’t sure whether I needed brown or green sticks. I chose brown cause they’d look right with the rust. I think green would have been better.
(Remember that for next time.)
I then made a tassel from some jute string. I’d seen one on Pinterest (yeah yeah yeah) and figured “I can do that!”
So I did.
I added some beads to finish it off and attached it to the wreath.
It needed something more. I added a few other decorations. And spent ages putting seed beads on the skinniest wire ever.
What sick b$%*&@d invented seed beads? sheesh.
I had to add a hanger to it so it would sit flush with the door (the coat hanger having its own hook facing the wrong way and I never thought of twisting it sideways).
Still, I rather like my extra little wire hearts on the top.
So there you have it. Simple wire heart(s) to welcome you to our home.
Please ignore the mess inside.
Reminder to self: bury a few coat hangers in the paddock to harvest next year.