Author Archives: zefiart

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About zefiart

Blogger, DIY-er, poodle lover, graphic designer, dog groomer, recycler, artist, wonder woman in my spare time.

the poodles redecorate

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Seems the poodles have gotten into the spirit of things around here and decided to help mom with her work at making the farm a dream home. 

They’ve been spending their days in the casita, in the grooming room and laundry, most days lately when we go to work.

Why?

You try coming home tired and finding poodles covered in mud to their eyebrows two nights in a row.

Sigh.

Since we moved to the farm they’ve generally had it really easy. They get the run of the yard while we’re at work most of the year. Its only this time of year (the wettest time), and on the odd very wet day during other times, that they get locked up during the day.

I give them some ‘special left alone time’ toys, close the door and go to work, secure in the knowledge that they’re safe and comfy, dry and not muddy while I slave away at work.

Today I got home to find they’d done some redecorating while I was at work.

I guess its only to be expected. They were raised around rennovations, building, power tools and revolving furniture. It comes naturally to them.

Today, they decided to put a new door (window?) in the toilet in the casita. We need a toilet with a view.

Or maybe they were trying to dig their way to freedom.

I don’t know. All I know is that a section of wall which used to have plaster on it is now just exposed studs. And Romeo was sporting a suspicious ring of white plaster dust around his nose…

Well, I’m not upset. That toilet is disgusting. Those walls are so damp Marie Curie would feel at home in there.

Anyway, I’m really looking forward to this weekend. I really want to do some work in the casita – mainly in the laundry area and grooming room. Some re-arranging. Some tidying up. Making the spaces more practical and user friendly.

And to confuse DJ next time he goes in there.

He really hates it when I move furniture.

Maybe I can get the poodles do more demolition work for me? hmmm?

z

baby steps

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We have too many shoes. And boots.

Scratch that.

DJ has too many boots.

This is what the mud room looks like currently:

Yep. A total mess. See the black and white tiled floor which is no longer black and white but black and grime?

See the piles of boots and layers of coats on the walls?

And the old boxes containing more shoes? What about the stuff I just ‘put there for a minute’ 3 days ago?

And if you look closely you’ll see Montana peeking out of Mischa and Barney’s crate…

This weekend I had a list of things to do. As always. But this time I’m proud to announce that I managed to do almost every single thing on my list, plus a few things that weren’t.

Like putting the shopping list chalkboard up in the tiny entry way where the fridge lives. So handy. Go to fridge, can’t find something cause its out – write it on the chalkboard!

 

I was going to do my usual thing with jute string and tied up chalk but decided to do something different. I did a white wash over weathered pegs and hot glued them to the frame. Quick and easy.

Since I was on a chalkboard roll, and since I had the hammer and nails out and was going strong on things not on my To Do List, I figured I’d put the huge chalkboard I’d found at an op shop a while ago up on the wall outside the mud room. Its a handy spot to leave messages…

This got two pieces of chalk and two pegs to hold them.

Have you ever noticed that if you hang something from just one hook, it will hang crooked and move when you bump it, then hang lopsided?

Well, I had a low tech solution.

Nails. On each bottom corner to hold it in place.

Ok. Maybe not the best solution, but this wall is going to be painted soon and I’ll do the job properly. Till then its fine as it is.

I just need to get out there and write something interesting on it!

Stay tuned.

So… after I did all the other things on my To Do List for the weekend, I decided on the spur of the moment to remove cupboard doors from my upper kitchen cabinets.

Cause, why not? Its my kitchen and I can do what I like, right?

At least thats what I told DJ when he came in and started whining about how what on earth was I doing now and why couldn’t I just leave well enough alone…

Here’s what I’ve learned.

That those hinges which close doors on the outside of cabinets suck. That the people who make those hinges supply them with the worst possible screws cause just putting the hinges on had ruined the screw thread. Getting them out was a huge adventure involving much swearing and the use of many different tools… including a claw hammer. (Do not try this at home!)

That partners don’t always have the same enthusiasm you have in the whole ‘lets try to change the kitchen for the better without changing anything really cause we haven’t got the money for new cabinets, benchtops, new stove or moving windows’…

And that quick jobs like ‘hey, I’ll just take the doors off those cabinets’ turn into marathons with hurdles.

On the positive side I learned that I like having somewhere in the kitchen where I can display things I like. And see things I no longer like.

Like the 50s cannisters. I love them, but I’m over them. I want different stuff in there now.

I also learned that I really, seriously want to declutter the benchtops.

Ok. I knew that before I started, but this seems like a good time to bring it up.

This is phase 1 of changing the kitchen to something I’m more likely to love looking at. Live with this for a while… find moulding/trim/whatever I can find to prettify the cabinets and make them look more like shelves…

Then rip out the entire kitchen and put in new one.

Ah… I can dream.

At least I got a few things done and taken a baby step towards a different kitchen!

z


adding to my junk collection

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Seems every time I go into an op shop or junk shop (I avoid antique shops like the plague), I find something small, or something huge.
Over the last few weeks I’ve done a bit of browsing with no serious intent to buy anything, yet somehow I still managed to spend an undetermined amount of money I will not admit to in public.
This is just a sample of the stuff I’ve found and collected. 
Who doesn’t love rusty funnels? That shop had another bigger one, but I refused to pay the price they had on it. 
Hooks of all kinds – good. They’re getting harder and harder to find.
The funniest little tin opener I’ve ever seen. Cute.
As I said, the pic above is just a sample. There are more cookie cutters, a few more coat hooks, many smaller cup hooks, rusty hinges, tons of old tarnished cutlery.
And latches, locks and door hardware. And some really pretty blue and white plates. Speaking of which, I saw 3 sets of old crockery I love… I’m so tempted to go back and get them. 

Do I need more plates? Frankly, yes. Then I won’t have to wash dishes so often.

I’ve also started collecting cookie cutters and other such stuff for my rusty/shiny dangly things. I am in love with those things. If I actually sold some I’d be thrilled.
And the hole thingies for drills. 
I know what I’m talking about, you don’t have to know what something is called to know what it is, or be able to use it! 
And doilies. Lots of doilies.
Why doilies you ask? 
This is why:
I want to make curtains for my home using cheesecloth and/or burlap and doilies. I’ve been inspired.
So, what am I up to this weekend?
Well, as you well know, there’s no rest for the wicked. I have a ton to do as usual. Unfortunately most of it comes under ‘need to do’ rather than ‘want to do’.
A friend is visiting and since he’s the guy who put up the deck and mudroom for me, I’m getting him to put the window frame in the mud room so I can start painting it. I’m dying to start painting.
So I must unearth the timber he’ll need for that job.
Then my day will include fixing the hearth to take up to the tenants in my house in Fentonbury. I had to buy a new bolt for it yesterday. Plus I have some curtains to take up as well.
I took some cuttings of my favourite bush in Fentonbury last weekend and I need to put them in the ground. So, since I’m getting dirt on my hands (did I say dirt? Mud, I meant mud.) I may as well plant some poor things I’ve finally decided on a home for after only 12 months in pots.
Then I have to sort through things to take to the market on my way there, pick up horse pellets (also on the way there), drop off the stuff for Fentonbury, and finally my reward is dinner with friends!
The clock’s ticking. Why am I still here?
z

oh the reality!

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You know I love rennovating and DIY and craft and all that ‘get in there and get your hands dirty’ stuff. And that I dream of a beautiful home full of light and old stuff and character.
Only problem is I’ve come to realise that the kind of home I want is forever out of my reach.
Not cause I can’t afford it. I can’t. There was never any doubt about that. But I’m the queen of finding a way, copying, making do and faking it. So I theoretically could have the house of my dreams.
But reality is, it’ll never happen.
Not while I live with dogs. And DJ (my new nickname for my partner).
Let me walk you through my dream home…
The dream: You’d walk onto a welcoming porch, with lots of plants, a cosy daybed, wicker furniture, a place to relax and read, a place to sit and sip ice tea with friends in summer.
 
Reality: the dogs would sleep on the bed, footprints, mud, dirt, maybe even a buried bone under the cushions. I’d come home to find the guts of the cushions scattered like snow all over the yard.
The dream: A white mudroom, white timber walls, black and white tile on the floor, a place for all the shoes and coats…
Reality: I will paint the walls white and I already have black and white tile vinyl on the floor… Or it was once black and white. Now its black and mud coloured. What on earth was I thinking? And I don’t think we’ll ever have enough room for all the boots, shoes and coats. Imelda has nothing on DJ and his cowboy boot collection.
The dream: The kitchen would be light, white on white, open shelves with white and cream crockery, white timber cabinets, a solid timber benchtop, a white farmhouse sink, black and white tiles on the floor or painted white floorboards.

 
Reality: There’d be fingerprints on all the cabinets, the sink would be full of unwashed dishes (that blame rests solely on me), dog hair would float up onto the open shelves and visitors would find bits of fluff on their dinner plate and in their coffee cup (thanks Barney and Mischa. At least poodles don’t shed). The floor would have muddy paw prints and muddy boot prints, even if I mopped every 10 minutes. And I’d be a slave to dusting the top shelves, which I’d never do often enough.

The dream: The bedroom would have light walls, timber floorboards, white distressed furniture, white bedding with lace details, old timber, a touch of other colours here and there. We’d have lie-ins and have coffee in bed on weekend mornings.
Reality: DJ, the most accident prone man I know, who never saw a pointy stick he didn’t poke himself with and white bedding? Forget about it. 
The dream: The living room would have a combination of old and new furniture, white painted floorboards, jute rugs, or pale persian rugs. A chandelier, big windows, rich curtains, and interesting items scattered around the room.
Reality: Couches without throws? White furniture? Pale rugs? White floors? Are you kidding? With the mud we have around the farm I think a brown theme is my only option.
The dream: The bathroom would be white and a pale blue or aqua. My towels would all be white.
 
Reality: When men wash all the dirt off their hands, and rinse it all off before they wipe them on the hand towel, that’s when I’ll get white towels.
Sigh. 
I’ll continue to work towards my dream home, but I’m realistic. I don’t live in town, we have mud outside our front door at least 4 months of the year. I share my home with animals (and I don’t mean Wayne!) so I can’t expect it to be perfect all the time. Scattered toys and pawprints are the price I pay to share my life with my pets – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, my floors will probably never be white. Timber floors with colourful rugs to hide pawprints.

My furniture will always have throws over it.

My bedding will be dark.

My towels will probably be blue or grey.

But my home will be full of things I love.

z

moves are afoot

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Well, not so much afoot, but happened. Over the weekend.
I had to brave the weather, and wearing a beanie, scarf and plenty of clothing, I made two trips to Fentonbury. On Saturday I had a couple of friends come up and take away some things I didn’t need to hold onto. Like another queen size bed. A friend of mine bought this for her guest room.
The bedside table and word frame have come back home. I’m thinking of giving the bedside table a makeover. Its one I found in an op shop and its already had one revamp, but I’m over it now. Time for a facelift again.
Another friend bought the cast iron single bed for her daughter’s room. Its a shabby chic and purple room so the bed will fit perfectly.
 
(And here’s another photo of that bed just cause I love it – the photo I mean.)
I gave her this louvre door for her bedroom so she can put up postcards and picture.
Same friend also bought the rug and the 60s kitchen table. I had a few moments of soul searching for that one… This table came from the first business my parents owned in Australia, a cafe in Griffith NSW. It lived in our house in Griffith, then moved to Athens, Greece with us, then came back with me when I moved back.
However, its not the style I want for the farm house and it would end up in the workshed. Plus I’m turning over a new leaf and letting go of things I don’t need or which don’t fit my current style.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
After they (and the stuff they took) left, I loaded up the car and trailer with every single thing I could lift and squeeze in on my own.
On Sunday Wayne and I went back up again and loaded up everything else. That included the lounge suite which went back to the friend who loaned it to me. Thank you Rosie!

And Merrill’s entertainment unit. Its lovely, but when you have standard poodles, you don’t do lowline entertainment units. Not if you want to actually SEE the TV.

You don’t realise how much stuff is in a house till you have to move it all!

Again.

Anyway, no, the house has not been sold. Ever since that sale that fell through in the very beginning, I’ve had people call or email, a showing, but no sales. The market just sucks at the moment.

So I’m renting it again.

This time I have a good feeling about the people I’m renting it to. They’re animal lovers, have a gorgeous dog called Milo, rabbits, rescue parrots and plan to get chickens.

As long as they don’t plan to build an arc on my property we’ll be ok.

Anyway, they move in this week so fingers crossed.

I sure could use a good break about now.

And I don’t mean like Wayne and his rib incident.

So, the farm house is full. Again. Boxes of stuff. Extra furniture which I had learned to live without here. Its all back.

This is when a deck shows its true purpose: storage space for things you don’t know where else to put…

Now I have to make the tough decisions. To keep or not to keep?

As I said, I already made the decision to sell some things. We just don’t have the room for it all at the farm. Now I have to consider every item I’ve brought back and decide where things will live. Here or elsewhere.

I’m itching to get back to work on the house. I’m dying to start painting again. The mudroom is screaming out for colour and order. Mainly order. There are coats and shoes all over the place.

I want to do up the guest room and make it pretty again. Once I find it under the piles of bedding, pillows, boxes and lamps from Fentonbury.

I have a headache. I need an aspirin.

z

good morning sleepyhead mirror

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I just love old window frames. And old doors. And old timber.
Ok, I love anything old, chippy, rusty and generally distraught.
I have a window/mirror in the bedroom already…

…but when I saw this beauty in a tip shop a long time ago, I just had to have it.

It sat in the shed for an awfully long time, buried somewhere between dog crates and ununsed luggage. Then one day while looking for something else I rediscovered it and thought the time was right to give it a makeover.
It needed a little work. There was a split in the frame and a few nail holes I had to fill. And of course it had no glass in it.
I liked the colour as it was. Bits of blue and yellow paint showing through from different paint jobs over the years. In most cases I prefer to keep the original paint if I can. Still, it needed something extra.
A shelf to hold bits and pieces!
The window frame itself is kingbilly pine – rare Tasmanian timber which was used a lot many years ago for window frames. I couldn’t get any of that so I did the next best thing. I used what I had on hand – some treated pine from out deck extension.
I cut it to the right size then did my artist thing – I mixed up paint till I matched the colours on the frame, painted it and distressed it to match.
I think I did a pretty good job. When you look at it, you can hardly tell the paint job on the shelf isn’t as old as the one on the window frame!
I had to be creative to attach the shelf… I used two old brackets I happened to have in my ‘bracket’ box (see? these old bits and pieces I collect DO come in handy!). They were the perfect colour, having been painted over in a pale blue at some stage.
I attached them upside down. I think that gives the whole thing a touch of crazy DIY-er. Last I added 2 heavy duty eye hooks for fixing it to the wall.

I got the glazier who put the glass in our front door to put a mirror in for me.

Here is the finished product. (please forgive my terrible handwriting!)

 
I have added a couple of hooks underneath the mirror as well for hanging stuff like towels or coiled pieces of rope.

Cause you never know when you might need a coiled piece of rope.

You can see where I haven’t touched the original paint or where its been sanded off. I wanted the kingbilly pine to be visible.
This window mirror is currently on display in a local shop for sale, but I’m torn over bringing it home to use in our bathroom (when we ever get around to the much needed makeover in there), or putting it in my Etsy shop…
I guess time (or my empty wallet) will make the decision for me soon enough.

z

what’s in a name?

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I’ve been wondering for a while now, whether I should change the name of my blog.

I originally called it Zefi’s blog cause I don’t have an imagination the purpose of the blog was just to share my trip to Greece.

Back then the blog was on Shine and contained stories of my childhood, photos of family and enough clear blue water to make you cry.

Now its on Blogger and I write about myself (ok, nothing new there), our new home, our life and, mainly, the DIY and crafting I/we do to improve our home.

I now live on a 90 acre property in the Derwent Valley of Tasmania, in an old relocated and tastelessly extended house with a serious mud problem in winter. We have 2 dams, a winter creek and 70 acres of native bush which taunt us with ‘free firewood’.

I share my life with my partner, Wayne, his two dogs and my two standard poodles (yes, poodles are not dogs!). We have 3 horses, about 10 chickens and about 11 ducks (those numbers are fluid).

We live on a dirt road and have a long dirt driveway. We have stockyards by the gate which feature a poodle sign and a bright red letterbox.

The reason I’m telling you all this is cause I’ve been wondering what I’d call my blog if I changed the name.

Some people have such imaginative names… I saw a blog last week called ‘7th House on the Left’ and thought what a great name! So simple, yet so brilliant.

There are others, countless others, which are cute, elegant, simple, clever or descriptive.

What would I call my blog if I didn’t just name it after myself like I do everything else?

My art site is zefiart.com. Most things stemmed from there. I figured with a name like Zefi (not many Zefi’s in the world that I know of, and I’m related to most of them) I didn’t need to find another catchier name for my site.

Ok. So I’m not that up myself. I do use other names…

My kennel prefix is Pantone Poodles.

I use Junk4Joy for the etsy shop (thanks Wayne. The man is brilliant – I toyed with names for days and he just opened his mouth and that fell out).

I named my grooming from home business (Derwent) Valley Dogs.

We named the farm Wind Dancer.

I could name my blog Junk4Joy and keep it all related. After all, I love junk and old stuff and re-creating it into something I’d be proud to have in my home.

Or I could go with something entirely different, more descriptive, more imaginative, more creative… (more pretentious…) and relating to our home… like:

The Red Letterbox
A Creek Runs Through It
90 Acres and 2 Poodles (why limit myself?)
Living in the Valley
Wind Dancing
A Stockyard with a Poodle Sign
Sandy Creek (the aboriginal name for our property is Bungonia which means Sandy Creek)
Up to Our Elbows in Mud

Thoughts? Suggestions?

UGH.

I love naming dogs, but naming blogs? I’m lost!

So… what do you think? Change or no change?

Do my ideas suck?

Should I go have a stiff drink and forget it?

z



link parties & another addiction

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I’m so new to this blogging/linking/inspiration/mutual admiration society thing, that I’m not sure how to go about doing this stuff. However, I have decided to actually take part in link parties cause, frankly, I like getting comments which say how much someone enjoyed seeing one of my projects.

And cause I am, in fact, a bit of a show off.

Admiration and praise makes me puff up my chest and strut around like a rooster overseeing his harem till something brings me crashing back down to earth.

Like poodles covered in mud who need hosing down before they can come into the house.

And the living room, covered in not-quite-washed-off muddy footprints.

Such is life.

But back to the issue at hand.

I told myself that I blogged to share stuff and have fun. I wasn’t going to concentrate on building a huge following and making money from my blog.

Sure, it’d be nice if someone came along and said “hey, I like your blog, here’s a bundle of money to keep it going”, but this is real life and that ain’t gonna happen.

So I blog for my own enjoyment – to share my life and to meet new people.

I do not have a problem! I can stop any time I want!

Its just that I don’t want to.

I went to bed last night sure that my only ‘vice’ was an addiction to junking… but it turns out I’m also addicted to blogging.

I blame my mother.

(Doesn’t it always come down to blaming mom?)

She instilled in me a need to have a neat, clean and tidy house.

I failed at that. But I do try to make my home look beautiful in my own way by making and altering things I find to give it character.

I’m proud of the things I make, and who said showing off is a bad thing?

Actors make a living out of it.

So do politicians.

Anyway, my name is Zefi and I’m addicted to junking and blogging.

There. Its out in the open for the world to see.

z

Oh, I forgot to mention, I linked my red box(es) blog to the colour link party above. Go check it out.

junkaholics unite

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Hi, my name is Zefi and I’m a junkaholic.

I know I have a problem.

I admit it. Don’t they say admitting it is half the battle?

But what if I don’t want to change?

I’m like Harry… “No Zefi, NO! Don’t look in the tip shop!”

“I. Can’t. Help. It. Its. So. Beauuuuutiful! ARRRRGGGGHHHH”

I feel for Harry.

Yesterday on the way home through Margate, I couldn’t resist the pull of the Re-Use Shop.

This afternoon, I couldn’t resist the tug of another junk shop.

Ok. Two.

Alright.

Three.

Sheesh.

I started off with some money in my pocket and now (don’t tell Wayne) I owe $43 on things I’ve ‘put aside’ with my name on them.

I just can’t help it!

And I don’t want to be cured. I like this disease.

I mean, I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t do drugs. What’s one teeny weeny addiction?

It ain’t hurting anyone!

Today’s haul included some rusty hinges, some lovely old spoons, a collection of old deep fryer baskets (I have a cunning plan for them!) and a galvanised milk bottle carrier.

As well as this little cutie:

And this (really? A rabbit decoupaged with cats?)

And yes, another poodle. But I have this fellow’s brothers so I had to complete the family.

Well. No one’s perfect.

z

jumping for joy & a bit down at the mouth

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I’ve been featured on a blog!

(Faint)

I always dreamed this moment would come… 🙂

Seriously. I’ve been blogging for a while now, firstly just to keep in touch with friends and family as I gallivanted around the greek islands. Then to share my adventures on the new farm. And eventually, to brag about all the things I get up to.

Embarassingly, though I think I’ve been blogging for about 2 years now, I don’t have many followers. Though quite a few people read apparently.

You know… unexpected people (not you, Merrill, or you, Diane. You better read cause you’ll be quizzed later!)

I’ll be chugging along happily at work and someone will comment on something I wrote on my blog.

Or Wayne will get off the phone with his brother’s partner in South Australia and tell me they asked about our plumbing issues.

Oops.

Small world.

I started reading blogs by some talented women with gorgeous houses and beautiful furniture, getting inspiration (and feeling more than a little envious). Somewhere along the line I started commenting on blogs, linked up on a link party or three, and some of my items got me some nice comments.

It feels nice. 🙂

Angie from Knick of Time was impressed enough with my retro tin storage that she featured it on her blog.

Anyway… That explains the jumping for joy, but what about the down at the mouth bit?

Well… yesterday I stopped in at one of my favourite shops in New Norfolk and learned that a dog grooming shop will be opening in town very soon.

Till now I’ve been the only local groomer, even though I only worked part time, at first driving to people’s places and washing dogs in bathtubs and laundry tubs till we moved to the farm. Then working out of the casita where I set up a proper grooming room with hydrobath and all.

There have been mobile groomers who would come out this way, but people who lived further out had to go all the way to the city for a groom, or they would (if they were lucky enough to know about me) come to me.

My grooming business has grown lots since moving here – some by word of mouth, others by referral from the local vet, flyers and business cards placed around town.

Most of my customers learn about me from their sister, brother in law, neighbour, hairdresser, etc. I love meeting new people and I love that I can walk in town and say hello to half the people I meet.

I’m a good groomer. I’m good with dogs. I love dogs. In fact, that’s what I say on my business card!

So I know I’m not going to lose my customers, at least not all of them. I look after their dogs and treat them well and get them looking great.

But I’m kicking myself for missed opportunities.

I should have been the one to open a business in town. I did think about it quite a few times. But a shop means overheads and you need the business to cope with overheads. Working from home enables me to build the business slowly, to work at my own pace (ie I take my time doing the dogs as I can afford to), and I can pick and chose my hours.

With a ‘proper’ job, grooming is my second job. I work on it on weekends or my days off. In summer when the days are longer and more people notice Fifi needs a clip, I also work some afternoons.

I’m flexible.

I’m not stuck in a shop with bills to pay regardless of how many dogs I groom that month.

I’m confident in my skills. I know I’m good.

Yet, I feel depressed at the prospect of a grooming shop opening in town.

Am I being silly? New Norfolk isn’t a big town… I was hoping to groom more and work less as time went on.

Now I wonder if it will happen.

Sigh.

Ok, now I’ve talked myself into a funk I better go before I talk myself into sticking my head in the oven – and its electric so that would be a total failure.

z