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About zefiart

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

how not to blog

  1. Turn on the computer and make a cup of coffee as it starts up.
  2. Sit at desk, opening tabs with right hand while patting standard poodle with left hand.
     
  3. Spend the next 15 minutes wiping up coffee from desk, under printer, under monitor and inside keyboard while yelling out four letter words as you jump around trying to blot up a full cup of coffee with tissues when said standard poodle shakes his head and spills coffee all over the desk.
     
  4. Throw away all the post-it notes you had on your desk with reminders and lists of things to do, plus entire unused post-it pads as they’re soaked beyond repair.
     
  5. Wonder just how resilient SD cards and USB sticks are to coffee drenching…
Ok. So now I’ve sorted that out and have a big pink towel on my desk soaking up any leftover coffee from under the monitor stand and the printer guts, I can tell you about my weekend.
I did NOTHING. Not a thing. 
Well. Ok. I did groom 3 dogs. And we did go visit some friends for dinner and stayed over-night. That was very nice.
And we stopped by to renew our dog registrations.
But other than that I did nothing.
Oh, on the way back from our friends’ place we drove past the Margate Tip Shop. Or Re-Use Shop as its called.
You know me. I never met a tip shop I didn’t like. Or could resist stopping at.
Wayne wasn’t impressed. We were too busy, didn’t have time to stop. 
But I had the keys and I was driving. So I went and looked while he waited impatiently in the car.
I found a few goodies… 4 doilies which I’m now collecting to make curtains as inspired by an image I fell in love with on Pinterest. Some rusty bits and pieces (I love my rusty bits), and another $1 kitchen chair!
I’ll soon have more chairs that I can possibly use, but hey, it was a nice chair, sitting out there in the rain! I couldn’t just LEAVE it there, now could I?
Here is a picture of the doilies, tea stained and drying out on the towel which is drying out my monitor.
And here is a picture of the chair. Cool find for $1, huh?
Needs a bit of TLC, but that’s what I’m here for!
z

kelly’s keys

 
I can blog about this now. I couldn’t before cause I made it as a house-warming gift for our friends Kelly and Simon and I wanted it to be a surprise. They moved into a little house on a dairy farm a few weeks ago. We haven’t managed to go up and see it yet, partly due to coming down with the flu when we were expected there for dinner.
They came to visit today (and brought Rio and Chloe to have their nails done*) so I got to give Kelly her presents – this key rack I made for them and a few other things I found which I knew she’d like.
Kelly’s pretty mad about black and white cows.
Hence the black and white ribbon on the key rack.
It all started out as a pretty plain, very old, very weathered piece of barn wood.
I roughly painted it with some blue/grey home made chalk paint, then handpainted some old style keys onto it. I loved the way the wood was worn away at one end so I painted the key and grey to make it look like the wearing had happend after, not before, the wood was painted.
I sprayed some old silver coloured hooks white using a flat white spray paint and put them along the bottom for keys… 
It needed something more… So I put an extra, smaller, hook into the worn area and added a heart I made out of some very rusty wire.
Better. Yet it still needed more… So I added a key I’d aged using a concoction I found on Pinterest. It was meant to rust it but didn’t. Still, it looked old(er).
Yep. It was getting closer.
I drilled 2 rather big holes into it and got Wayne to do more of his cute knots with some jute rope. I had to buy a new set of drill bits cause I didn’t have any big enough. (Any excuse will do to buy more hardware.)
Yep. It was getting there, but it still needed something more. I had to look at it for a long time before I would work it out. I hung it on the wall in the living room where I’d see it as I walked by every day.
Then I had a brainwave. It needed a bow.
A cowhide bow!
Have you ever tried to find cowhide ribbon? 
I bought some plain white ribbon from the fabric store in town and painted cow spots on it using a sharpie. Didn’t look too bad.
I made a double bow and looped some wire around the ribbon and the key and hung them onto the hook with the rusty heart.
I’m actually really happy with it. I think it came up pretty good considering the many false starts!

Adding this project to Addicted2Decorating Link Party.

z
*Rio and Chloe are jack russell terriers. Rio is a gorgeous little ratbag who’s already been introduced to the joys of hydrobathing and having his nails done with a dremel. Chloe is only 8 weeks old and it was her introduction to the dremel today.
There’s almost nothing cuter than a baby jack russell. Chloe is the sweetest thing!

kitchen re-do mania

From the day we set foot on the farm, I’ve dreamed of a new kitchen.
Well… maybe not a totally new one. A recycled, updated, old kitchen.
I want a farm kitchen, with a timber table (got that!) and a mix of white and wood and mismatched furniture and timber lining on the walls and shelves and a dishwasher.
I want a built-in oven and a stove top that sits in the benchtop. I’m over the freestanding stove and the gap large enough to drop a semi-trailer down on either side.
I’m sick of the blue benchtops and the ugly laminate cupboards.
Sure, there’s tons of storage space in this kitchen. Would you believe I haven’t actually filled up the cupboards totally? There’s still room for a few more appliances I’ll use once every 2 years whether I need to or not.
For the last 18 months I’ve been drawing sketches of how I can make the kitchen bigger, prettier, more practical.
I’ve been knocking down walls and pulling out cabinets, moving windows and putting in new doors and hardware on a regular basis … in my dreams.
Sigh.
Last week I think I finally clicked on a plan.
Of course, we don’t have the money to re-do the kitchen right now. It was one of those things I put on the ‘To Do when my house in Fentonbury sells’ List.
And the house hasn’t sold yet.
In fact, I don’t know if it will sell in this market. Nothing is selling. And I think I may have found some mature and reliable tenants for it.
After the last lot I’m rather scared to rent it out again. But reality is I can’t keep paying 2 mortgages out of my measley wage.
Anyway, back to the kitchen nightmare dream.
This is what the kitchen looks like now. 
Yes, the mess is almost part of the layout of the kitchen.
Yes, I may be insane to even think of re-doing the kitchen while I live with Pigpen Wayne, especially the all white cabinets… 
So, here is my kitchen in all its glory.
Its a U shape, when you walk through the door (you come into the house via the mudroom, through a tiny entry-way, then into the kitchen. I call it a rabbit warren…) this is the first thing you see. There is just not enough bench space. There’s no wall space so things like my pretty tins, the spice and coffee cabinets have to sit on the bench and take up precious space.
That corner cabinet has sliding baskets in it, handy but a bit smelly, like its been wet at some stage.
 
Love the drawers. Especially the deep ones for dishes and baking dishes.
The sink is under the window which now looks into the mud room. And I really hate how they made upper cabinets and then had to angle them back to allow for the windows.
See those gaps next to the stove? I think Barney went in there looking for stuff Wayne had dropped while cooking, and he hasn’t been seen since.
 
Another cabinet cut at an angle to allow for the window. Those shelves are useless, you can barely see anything on them and reaching them is a challenge.
Oh yeah. There’s a big window into the living room as well.
Under the microwave upper cabinet is a small bench area. Barely enough to butter your toast with the breadbox and fruit bowls.
I hate the corner cupboards.
Yep. My kitchen is a disgrace.
I’ve decided I need to do some major work. I want to remove the window which now looks into the mud room. I want to replace the tall skinny window in the corner near the stove with the bigger one from the other side to allow more light into the kitchen.
I want to knock out half a wall so that when you enter through the mud room you go directly into the kitchen (an L shaped kitchen) and not into a tiny dark space.
I want to make that tiny dark space (where the fridge lives cause it doesn’t fit in the kitchen!) into a pantry by building a large cupboard ‘around’ the fridge. With the wall gone it will be in the kitchen, though around a corner, in the short part of the L.
I want to remove the pantry from where it is in the kitchen now, making more room for the table, and bring in my pretty kitchen hutch from the living room.
I want shelves to display the things I like.
I want to move the stove to the side where the sink is now and put the sink where the stove is with the window above it.
I want thick bamboo benchtops.
I want timber doors and old fashioned hardware.
I want a new floor covering. After seeing the black and white tiles in the mud room after a rainy day, I think I might opt for something less mud-worthy.
Polished floors would be great.
I want timber panelling on the walls. Painted timber panelling. On all the walls. And a glass backsplash behind the stove.
And I want a dishwasher. And a big double sink. (ok, a butler’s sink would be ideal!)
And shelves. Did I mention I want shelves?
That’s not too much to want is it?
Surely I deserve the kitchen of my dreams!
I plan to re-use the cabinet carcasses where I can, only buying what I need (like for the stove and oven). I’ll make my own shelves and brackets from timber. I’ll re-use the old pantry to make the new one.
And it’ll still cost way more than I can afford. A new stove. A new oven. A new rangehood. New doors. And labour.
I ain’t moving windows and knocking out walls by myself.
So, I live with what I have and try not to hate it too much.
Lately I’ve started leaving comments on the blogs I’m following. Kim at The Money Pit is updating her kitchen. I’m so envious. She had a dilema and asked people’s opinion. I gave her mine and, guess what? She is taking my suggestion! I feel good. Here is her post with her final decision on what her kitchen will look like.
Now will someone help me re-do my kitchen? 
I mean, can someone come and help me do it? Its a big job and I don’t know how brave I actually am.
z

where’s dinner and do you have regrets?

Where’s dinner?
Do you ever regret throwing something(s) way? It isn’t something I think of often, but lately something I read reminded me of stuff I threw out many years ago which I now feel a bit bad about.
Not the photos of a particular ex-boyfriend…  I can live without that memory.
No, I don’t regret that. But there are some small things that I do regret throwing out.
You know how, when you’re in love and everything seems like it’ll last forever, this is the man of your dreams, the white picket fence looms in the future and your rose tinted glasses haven’t yet come off and been crushed underfoot? At that point in a relationship you think you want to erase all the previous loves of your life and begin anew. Wipe the slate clean so to speak.
So you throw away all those old love letters you cherished for years. The ones from your first boyfriend who you thought was SO romantic (till you realised that most of his letters were simply lyrics from his favourite songs). Or the great passionate summer romance you had where the guy could only speak french and italian and who’s letters you had to read with the assistance of a dictionary or a friend who spoke italian.
And the gifts. You decide you can live without that little heart charm given to you by the man you believed would be your life partner. Or the sweatshirt a two-timing louse gave you from Disneyland, telling you that he wore it while visiting there and felt like you had your arms around him. 
Uhuh.
You toss these things out, without a thought, without regrets. You give away the charm or drop clothing into the brotherhood bin.
(Now you kick yourself for not selling the stuff and making a quick buck out of it, but you never worked that way.)
No. The stuff I regret throwing away were things given to me by people (men) who I wasn’t actually involved with – thus somehow the stuff they gave me was more genuine. Untainted. And I still threw it away.
One of those things was a painting. A watercolour given to me by a french boy I met when I was in Paris on a school trip at age 16. We sat up all night, in the hostel kitchen where he worked while attending art school, drinking hot chocolate out of huge bowls, and talking – Paris by night outside the window… Then he snuck me out to see his place (a tiny loft) where he didn’t try to seduce me or take advantage of me, but instead gave me a drawing to remember him by and asked for a page from my visual diary to remember me by.
It was so innocent. So exciting! Doesn’t every girl dream of a romantic night in Paris?
Hello? Do you have my dinner?
The other thing was a poem, written to me by a guy I thought was a friend. Who it seems had more feelings for me than I was aware. It was a beautiful, sensitive poem, asking me to give him a chance, to stay in Greece and not return to Australia.
When I thought I was in love with Mr Right, I threw these things out along with old photos and old love letters.
Why would I throw away a painting? Or a poem? They’re art, someone’s hard work and talent.
Yet I did. 
I’ve also thrown away, given away, or sold (not so often) things I’ve grown out of or no longer need. Those items I don’t regret… in general.
I do regret not holding on to my mother’s old clothes however, even after they no longer fitted me. They were beautiful 1960s outfits, mohair twin sets and tweed pedal pushers. Nice.
Well… we can’t keep everything. We have to move on and make space in our home, our lives and our hearts.
And a clean out of the old is good for the soul, right?
Plus, there’s the added advantage that by getting rid of old stuff, you make room for MORE stuff.
Yeah. I like that.
Lets not look at it as throwing things away, but rather as making room for new (old) stuff!
Like these 7in long nails I found at an op shop last week. How wonderful are they? I can already see them as part of a project….
z

blue crystals, chains and rust

 
There’s something about the combination of rust and sparkle that just does it for me. And lace and burlap, but that’s another story entirely.
When I found the first hand sander at a tip shop some time ago I bought it cause I just loved the smoothness and softness of the wood where it had been worn smooth by use. I had no idea what I’d do with it.
In fact if it didn’t still have sandpaper stapled to it, I wouldn’t have had a clue what it was.
Then I found another. And another. It was like once I’d seen one, I was seeing them everywhere. 
 
 
 
Like cars. Have you ever noticed that you can go through life quite happily not having a clue what a Holden Astra looks like, but then you see one and suddenly they’re everywhere?
That’s how it works with wooden hand sanders too. Once your eyes are open to them, they’re everywhere. And I’m buying them. I can only hope I find more. I have more ideas of what to use them for.
An image on Pinterest of a collection of clunky rusty objects on chains gave me the idea that this sander would be ideal to hang a random collection of objects from.
The first one I made I already had a few items in my miscellanous box which were just waiting for the right project. This time around I actually had to scavenge to find the right items.
I went through my miscellaneous box, I went through my collection of spoons, I even went through the bottom of Wayne’s tool boxes. I got some goodies there, but unfortunately Wayne saw me and confiscated them.
Oh well. Easy come, easy go.
Still, I had a few interesting things in my pile. A couple of old hinges. An old spoon. Some rusty nuts, bolts and washers. One of my collection of metal cup cake tins. Lots and lots of rusty wire in shapes made by Wayne. Beads. Crystals.
Cool.
This is one reason I just hate it that tip shops are closing. The one in New Norfolk is gone. Another is soon to close. You can’t get the same amount of rusty junk in op shops. 
At a tip shop you often find boxes full of crap, just begging for me to go through them. Which I do, carefully sifting through all the rusty hardware and finding a bent hinge, a crooked hook, a broken doorknob.
Treasure!
 
 
I just love that stuff.
I’m wierd.
However, there’s no arguing that a collection of junk and sparkle like this looks pretty amazing.

This particular suncatcher has chains and silver beads from a broken necklace, strands of watchmakers chain and a blue crystal with aurora borealis finish which makes it reflect colours in the sun.
I apologise for the overload of photos… I couldn’t make up my mind which ones to use, so I just used them all! 🙂
z

welcome stars

I’m finally starting to feel more like myself. There’s still a whole lot of coughing, spluttering, sneezing and wheezing going on, but all in all – I’m feeling better. Thank goodness. This not being able to do stuff (create) has been killing me. 
Last night I finished a couple of projects that only needed tweaking (and got Wayne to tweak a couple more).
The welcome sign is one of them. This had been on the hallway wall for a couple of weeks and all it needed was to be photographed outside where the walls weren’t the same colour as the paint on the timber. How did I do that? I started with flat white paint, added a touch of this and a drop of that and mixed up a colour that looks almost exactly the same as the colour on my walls!
 
Anyway, this project only needed photographing so here goes.
The timber piece is one that came off the old stable. I gave it a brush of pale blue/grey paint and then hand painted the word on it. I printed the word out, rubbed the back of the paper with charcoal and traced the letters, then painted them. I’ve found that doing it by hand beats any kind of transfer method I’ve tried. Using a thin brush and some acrylic paint I can give the letters the worn look I want by using more or less paint in areas.
I then took some sticks from under one of our gum trees and made stars using thin silver wire for the joins.
I added a few beads to the bottom of each star for a bit of bling. You can’t see the beads as well in the photos as you can in real life which is a pity.
All in all, I think it came up rather nice. When I see it near the door it makes me smile.

 Now on to other stuff!

z

a box for my angel

Its been over a year since I lost my Billybear. He was my baby boy. His registered name was Toniri Angel by My Side and he was the angel by my side for almost 13 years.

When I brought him home from the pet crematorium I got a small craft box for his ashes as I’d done for Scooter’s ashes the year before. The plan had been to decorate the box in a way that meant something to me, then keep him next to me on the bedside table. Billy always liked to sleep near me.
 
Unfortunately, nothing came to me, so the box stayed plain until a couple of weeks ago when I suddenly had an inspiration.
One of my favourite songs of all time is Garth Brooks’ The Dance. I have it on my website on the page of dogs I’ve loved an lost on my website. To see the page click here.
I realised it was the perfect thing for Billy’s box.
So I went about getting it done. I printed out the lyrics to the song in a font I liked. Using tea, I stained the pages to look old, then cut out panels. I glued those onto the box using a mix of PVA glue and water.
Once that was dry, I gave the box a couple of coats of clear water based varnish to seal it.
Without intending to I ended up with a crackle finish. I’d read (on Pinterest) that you can create a crackle finish with glue, but it said the glue had to be tacky. My glue was very dry. Still… it crackled.
To finish the box (and hide the imperfect fit of the paper around the lock) I used some burnt umber artists acrylic and a cloth. I dabbed the paint on, then rubbed it off. It gave the box a more aged (and rusty lock) appearance.
Billybear is back in his box on my bedside table now. Next to me, where he belongs.
Hope you like your little box Billybear.
 z

its not the cough that carries you off

Or so they say.

It doesn’t always seem so when you wake up at 2am you’re coughing up a lung and can only sleep when slung over the arm of a couch…. a bucket within reach.

This flu has really taken it out of me. I started with a sore throat a week ago, next day I had a headache, by that night I had a fever, a chest full of sludge and other unpleasantries.

This is definitely not fun. I much prefer to be the one who’s well and full of energy, who can keep the house running and passably neat, while yelling at Wayne to stay in bed and forget moving till I said he was well enough.

Having things flipped on me sure sucks.

But frankly, I was so sick I didn’t care.

I didn’t care when the house got dirtier and messier. I didn’t even notice for about 3 days. When I did notice, I just couldn’t raise enough energy to care.

Finally, yesterday, I got up enough ‘give a damn’ to sweep the kitchen floor.  I had to. The dog-hair bunnies under the kitchen table started barking at me.

And I had to put on a load of washing cause I was out of clothes. During the worst of it I had to change clothes at least once a night. I was running out of Ts.

I had to hang them up in the living room to dry by the heater though, even though the sun was out, cause I couldn’t dare be outside. Wayne had already warned me that there better still be dog poop on the lawn when he got back or there’d be hell to pay.

I don’t think he trusts me to sit still. He has a point. If I hadn’t been sick, I would have hung out the clothes and pooper-scooped… and started another 5 projects.

Having to pause and catch my breath every few minutes kinda put a damper on that.

I also have to now rethink my standard reply to doctor questionnaires. The question “Do you have asthma?” used to elicit the reply “I used to when I was a kid, but I’ve rarely had it since.”

The new answer is “Yes. I have asthma.”

Getting to sleep lately has been a challenge. First there was the biblical flood filling my lungs if I so much as lay back by 5 degrees.

Then there’s the entire bagpipe band taking up residence in my chest.

Not only was their playing loud, but I could feel them crashing around in my chest!

My mom was the one who knicknamed my asthma my ‘bagpipes’. She’d say “your bagpipes are back” and give me a back rub and urge me to rest.

I first got asthma when I was 7 years old, living in Griffith NSW. No one knows where it came from. No one in our family ever had it. Sure, papou (mom’s father) had bronchitis all his life, but asthma? That’s an Australian thing… Guess I made my choice back then, huh?

When it did hit, with no prior warning, it hit hard. That first spring I was laid up for 2 weeks. I couldn’t move at all. Every single movement would cause a constriction and make breathing harder. All I was able to do was sit up in bed and wheeze.

That’s when I made my first little old lady friend. Her name was Aunty Edna and she was not my aunty. She was the sweetest old lady, I barely remember her, just the memory of a very proper elderly lady with blue rinse hair set to perfection, always dressed well, with lace hankies. She was the only one who could calm me down when I got really upset.

Come to think of it, I don’t even know where she came from or where she went after I got better. The only time I remember her in my life was at my bedside.

Anyway, I’m finally on the road to recovery, though I’ve been warned not to rush things. A few people Wayne’s son works with went back to work too soon and were back in bed.

Flu Take Two is not something I want!

z

another suncatcher

Among the many things lying on my coffee table at the moment is a suitcase with my beading tools and my bead boxes.
Somewhere along the line, I decided I’d try my hand at making jewelry so I bought the teeniest pliers, skinny wires and beads. I did make a few necklaces (which turned out great btw ) and took them with me to Greece a couple of years ago as gifts.
Then I lost interest in jewelry.
Been there, done that is my motto.
Then I found these gorgeous huge chandelier crystals at a tip shop. There weren’t many, so I grabbed what they had. I thought they’d make great suncatchers.
With Wayne bending wire and making shapes, then me blinging them up, I think they come up quite well.
Originally the plan was to take them to a local shop and see if they’d sell. I might still do that, but for now I just have a build-up of suncatchers in the house, where they don’t catch much sun. I may even try listing them in my shop if when I get around to it.
I’m sick today and feeling rather flat. A sore throat and pounding head will do that to a person. Not to mention the dripping tap in my nose that needs a new washer. 
I once had the wierdest dream where I sneezed my guts out of my nose. Really.
They were white and long. Like spaghetti. Strange.
I wanna be home under a warm blanket with a mug of hot chicken noodle soup with tons of lemon…
Why exactly is chicken soup the right soup when you’re sick? Who made that the law?
I grew up on a diet of chicken noodle soup when I was sick like jewish kids the world over, and we’re not even jewish. Given mom came from an island with a fisherman father, why didn’t she give us fish soup when we were sick?
Last night I couldn’t sleep. You know that feeling, when you have a sore throat and think “Whatever you do, don’t swallow, it’ll hurt!” and then the first thing you do is swallow? Then cringe. And think, “Ok, that was a mistake. Just. Don’t. Do. It. Again.”
Then you do.
z

heart(y) welcome

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. 
Woop-dee-do.
SNAG: (noun)
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.
z