When I first got back from Athens, I admit I fell into a kind of lethargy reserved only for the laziest among us. I spent an entire week doing as little as possible. But then, slowly, I began to get the itch again. The creative itch. Not just to paint, but to make over something useful, to MAKE something. Since the itch struck, I’ve been in and out of the zone, starting 7 projects and almost finishing 4 of them.
Not bad. If I wasn’t going to Athens I’d be doing more, but not much time left. Perhaps I’ll be able to work on a couple more works-in-progress, but doubt I’ll finish anything more till I get back. I will share a bit more on those projects meanwhile however, so stay tuned.
A good friend has been clearing out her house of things she doesn’t need, and I was lucky enough to get these two large trays from her. They’re the kind used in taverna’s here in Greece, the biggest one is quite large, often wielded by muscley-armed waiters, holding lots of dishes at once.
Of course, hers were in almost new raw timber condition. Not an oil stain to be seen on them!
I wanted to make them into something I can sell, something islandy, something people can use but also display in their homes. This is the first tray, the smaller of the two:
I ‘ve never painted the sea before so it was a challenge. I’m still not sure if I like the effect I achieved, but it’s not terrible… However, it did need something more, a focal point, hence the starfish. I like the starfish.
This tray is all acrylic paint, and before its ready to sell, it will have a coat or two of polyurethane to seal it so it can be used as intended.
My second attempt is a mix of acrylic paint and pastels. I wanted this one to be a little more fluid, but again, it needed a focal point, hence the shell. To be honest, I’m much happier with this type of blended colour background. It’s the sort of background I’m comfortable with and use very often in my work, whether its watercolour, acrylic of pastel.
In the close up of the shell, you can see the pastel, though I have worked over it with acrylic paint in places, to give it extra depth.
This will also get a coat of polyurethane to seal it and protect the artwork.
The weather has finally come good again after about 2 weeks of freezing cold winds and rain or hail. It’s great to be able to take Lainee for a walk on the beach without being blasted into the middle of next week.
This is the sea I love… flat as an oil slick. I’m not a wave kinda person. And today the sun feels almost warm enough to swim. If I was braver I probably would… but I’m not that brave.
Instead of swimming I came home and began tidying up in preparation to return to Athens and face the ongoing renovations there. All I can do right now is hope that it’s moving along since I left. I doubt there will be much change except the destruction of the old bathroom, as mom witnessed that in the form of noise that lasted a few days. The bad weather kept the workmen away for at least one whole week.
I’d never have believed it possible, but this is my third renovation in Greece. I’d renovated 3 houses in Australia, now I’m even in Greece. Who knew I’d survive that with my mind intact and only the occasional bout of despair, desperation and hair pulling?
This time around I painted something different. I mean, why not… its just experimenting after all.
But the results were, once again, disappointing.
This time I not only washed the dishes and dried them with a clean towel, I also wiped over the area I was planning to paint on with pure alcohol. I figured that maybe there was still some grease residue on the plates last time. The alcohol would get rid of that.
Here are the results:
So… scratching with a fingernail when its dry seems to be ok. But put it in water and all bets are off.
To me, this is a total failure of the product to live up to its claims.
I had planned on using these paints on a large fruit bowl a friend wanted me to paint for him. I planned to buy a few more colours too. How can I do that when the bowl will need special care or the painting will come off?
I guess I could call them ‘special needs’ ceramics.
My dad was a collector. He collected match boxes, stamps, coins, paper money (not as in wads of cash!), and gadgets. Lots of gadgets.
I guess I got my collecting gene from him. Same as I got my ‘will try my hand at anything and do it reasonably well’ gene.
Thank you dad 🙂 !
So, while clearing out the upstairs house in Athens in order to renovate and rent it, I also had to do a little more sorting and clearing out of the storage room.
Among the things I’d left to ‘deal with later’, was dad’s collection of match boxes. There was a laundry basket full of them. There were tons from all over the world, nothing significant, but some pretty ones that appealed to me.
I decided to give them away, so listed them on Facebook marketplace. I wanted them to go to someone who was a collector rather than to a secondhand dealer who would just sell them. In the end I chose a nice man who’d had a break-in and had a ton of stuff stolen, including his match box collection.
Before I gave them away, though, I went through and selected a few to keep as a memento. These are the ones I kept. I’ve always loved the Redhead matches, and there was a series of hand drawn Australian native animals I felt I had to keep, among them.
I glued them onto some cardboard and took them to my good friend’s framing shop and had her frame them for me.
You will notice that the bottom corner was short one matchbox in my trial layout. In order to fill that, I cut a small photo of our family on the day we got our Australian citizenship and glued that to a new match box.
I love the look of the framed collection, and adding the photo gives it a more personal touch.
Given my place is small and there are already too many things in it, there wasn’t much choice of where to put it. For now I’ve hung it over the bathroom door, near the framed photo of dad in a cowboy costume. You can see that photo here.
I am definitely getting more nostalgic in my old age! I’m constantly finding things from the past that I want to keep and display wherever possible.
I need a bigger place!!!
Anyway, I’m glad I kept some of dad’s match boxes and can now enjoy them and the memories they bring.
A while ago I made a memory box for mom and dad – photos of them courting and a photo from their wedding day. Photos I’ve always loved.
I found the box in a secondhand store, and it had a glass front which slides out. All I had to do was paint it white, glue on a background I liked and then decorate it.
This trip while I was in Athens I found the wedding crown from their wedding in all the boxes I sorted through.
It’s yellow with age and has lost some pearl beads, but I like it as it is. At some stage I’ll iron the ribbon, but for now, I just popped it into the box for safe keeping.
For those who don’t know how Greek weddings go, somewhere among all the priests chanting and carrying on for what feels like hours, the best man or woman gets out these ‘crowns’ to crown and bind the couple together.
The crowns can be decorated in any way they want, but they are made to sit on the heads of the couple during the ceremony and have a ribbon tying them together. It’s meant to symbolize that they are now kind and queen of their own household. Apparently. I didn’t know that. I just read it on google…
During the ceremony, the best man/woman puts the crowns on their heads, then crosses them over back and forth so that each crown goes on both heads. Then the couple does the ‘dance of Isaiah‘ – where they move around the table with the best man/woman holding onto the crowns/ribbon.
Seeing as Greek Orthodox church ceremonies are all in ancient Greek, I can’t say I’ve ever understood a single thing they say or do…
But at least this bit of the ceremony had a bit of action, so it was fun.
Sort of like cricket…. I heard a comedian once describe cricket as so boring for so long that when something finally happened it was insanely exciting. Like that.
You can tell I’m not a very church-going person. There are a couple of ceremonies I like – Easter Friday is my favourite by far. I’ve always thought that other Christian churches I’ve visited were much more interesting. At least there the priest/father/pastor/whatever he/she is called speaks in English and gives a sermon that I can understand.
However, I digress. All I wanted to do here was share how much I cherish having mom and dad’s wedding crowns to add to my memory box.
A while ago a friend asked me to paint a large fruit bowl for him so I went ahead and bought some paints for porcelain online. These are the ones I bought:
Now, I’m not saying they DON’T work… I’m just sharing my experience. Please tell me what I did wrong, cause they sure didn’t work for me!!!
I bought a platter (not shown here), a large deep plate and used a small bowl I already had. I washed them as it said, by hand. I rinsed them well and after they dried I also wiped them over with a towel.
In order to find the best type of porcelain to work on, I bought a shiny platter, my bowl was shiny and the deep plate had a kind of matt finish.
I then drew on them using both the paint and the pen I’d bought.
It was just an experiment so I didn’t concern myself too much with the design. Once done, the instructions said to dry for 4 hours. I had to go out so I left them overnight. The next day I put them in the oven and turned it on to 160 degrees C for 90 minutes. Then I let them cool before removing them from the oven.
The day after I got the guts to try using them. Firstly, I used my fingernail on the small bowl with the blue fish – it came off easily when I scratched it. The matt platter wouldn’t scratch off so I felt hopeful.
However, this is what happened when I put them in plain water, or water with dishwashing liquid…
Hope the videos work ok for you… If not, let me know and I’ll upload them to Youtube and link them through there.
Suffice it to say that it took no elbow grease to completely erase my work from the surfaces.
Contrast that to the sharpe experiment I did about 3 years ago:
I drew on 2 of the small bowls using a fine line sharpie as per instructions I found on Pinterest. The drawings have faded and in some places have rubbed off a bit where I’ve used the hard side of the sponge, but for the most part they remain intact. Three whole years later and with regular use.
So… those who may have used Kruel porcelain paint… what have I done wrong?
The big stuff is being tackled – we now have a bedroom in what was a huge living room. The bar has been moved aside and is looking for a new home – a huge task cause who has room for a big bar these days? Greece isn’t like Australia where men have man caves to hang out in.
The huge couch has been gifted to my cousin but now she’s having second thoughts. I’ve listed both on FB market place but no takers so far. sigh.
The walls have been wired for outlets and light switches. The kitchen layout has been designed using cabinets from the old kitchen and a new benchtop.
The executive decision was taken to not install a cooktop and oven since it would mean I need to buy an underbench oven as well. I bought the cooktop (long story*) but if I simply leave space for an upright stove, I save money.
*The cooktop story: I was originally going to just patch up the house as it was so I bought a double electric hob to replace the broken one. Then I decided to remove the double gas hob as well (since it meant carrying gas bottles up and down), so swapped the 2 burner to a 4 burner all electric hob. Now I’m not putting a stove in at all, I need to return that now and buy something else I need… or get a store credit. Or money back (unlikely). Still, thats ok. At some stage I’ll need a new laptop…
Why is it that money spent already feels like bonus money when you want to buy something else? I wonder if I want an air fryer? Or one of those glass oven thingies which Wayne used so much in Australia. The call those robot ovens here… hmmm. Or a food dehydrator… I dont NEED anything like that… but do I want it? … hmmm.
Nah. A new laptop would be the better bet! Something to take the place of this ancient tablet – more efficient, more flexible, small enough to travel with, and with the ability to connect to the large monitor I have at home.
Anyway, back to reno matters… Unlike in Australia where houses are rented WITH a stove but without a fridge and washing machine, here a renter usually brings his own stove, fridge and washing machine unless you rent a place as furnished. I do have a washing machine, an old fridge and microwave I could provide to a renter if they didn’t have their own, but most people have their own, hence… saves me a bit of money right now.
On Sunday I return to Paros for a while. I want to go home for a bit. I’ve been living in a construction site since I got here before Christmas. And soon as I leave, the only working bathroom upstairs will be demolished and rebuilt. Ideally there will be a new, working bathroom by the time I return… though, since the only furnished bedrooms will be on the other side of sealed walls… I don’t think I’ll be able to shower upstairs any more. ugh.
Renovations are such hard work.
z
The dumbwaiter for firewood is going.Tearing it apart.Dumbwaiter gone!Framing in the bedroom.Getting there.Ready for insulation.Electrical cables in.The bar area before.The bar area being prepped.Marking out where things will go.We have a wall.Now we need a door.
I’ve been up to my earlobes in yet another renovation. Reno no.6 to be exact. This time its the upstairs house, the house we lived in as a family the longest.
To be precise the ‘house’ is a building of 3 residences currently. Originally the duplex my mother and aunt built on a piece of land they bought in the 50s. When we first returned to Greece in 1970 we lived in mom’s side of the duplex – a small two bedroom place with a tiny dark kitchen which is the place I renovated for mom last year. Given we needed more room than the little apartment, dad built a large apartment/house on top.
It was built in the 70s and we moved into it in 1978. You can guess the decor. Wallpapered throughout. Wall to wall carpet (in different colours and textures in different rooms…) and carpet in the kitchen!!!!! You heard right. Don’t ask me what dad was thinking.
I was too young to know or care about the design or layout of the house so I can’t take any blame for it. The original design was for 2 apartments but dad changed it and created one large house of 143m2. All he did basically, was turn the smaller upstairs apartment in the plans into one humongous living/dining room with a mammoth bar and fireplace.
The rest of the house is one decent sized bedroom with an ensuite with access from the hallway to double as a guest bathroom, a very big kitchen, a large bathroom and 2 small bedrooms, one not much bigger than a walk in closet. And a very long hallway.
Dad’s admiration of ‘the way things were done’ in Australia led to a suspended floor over the concrete slab, with plumbing and wiring underneath the chipboard underfloor.
He also loved wood. In all its natural stained glory. And marble. So the house is full of dark stained wood doors and wardrobe doors, mahogany wall units, oregon front door and swinging doors from the living room to the hallway and kitchen, timber ceilings, a parquet floor in the living room, and all timber kitchen cupboard doors. And a masterpiece onyx marble fireplace.
People lived differently in the 70s and 80s. At least we did. My parents had guests over for dinner and parties all the time. Mom still has place settings for 30 or more people, because they needed them then. No one I know has parties like that any more, and there’s not much call for a living/dining room of that size these days.
It was a beauty of a house in the 70s.
It did not age well.
Dad passed away in 1996 and not much was done to the house since. Small bits of maintenance. My brother lived here for a few years so he stripped wallpaper and painted the living room and one bedroom, I did another, some appliances were replaced, air conditioners were put in, but on the whole, the place is still more or less as it was when dad was still alive.
I’ve spent months stressing over what to do with the house… To keep it as one large apartment or split it into two apartments. Since 2 smaller apartments would be easier to rent given the unconventinal layout, it makes sense. However, its a lot of work, time and expense… Mom almost had me convinced to just ‘do a quick fix up job and rent it as it for now’… meaning get some money coming in, even if its under market value.
I was all set to do the slap dash job. I even got a painter to come in and paint the house – he even painted the bathtub and double sinks in the big bathroom.
A waste of money as it turns out, cause when we removed the old carpet I found that the underflooring was going to need fixing before any new flooring could be put down… and why pay to put in new flooring now, since I planned to split the house into 2 apartments eventually? It would be a bigger waste of money.
Since the underfloor needs replacing in the main part of the house, may as well do all plumbing needed while its up… and move the kitchen to a better place in the house now… well, in phase two of this reno. Just patching the underfloor and putting in new flooring only to have to rip it up at a later date when splitting the house in two would be stupid.
Maybe I’m just too fussy. I don’t know. I’m trying to do this renovation on a budget, but I keep wanting it to also be nice. I want to rent a place I’d happily live in myself. Does that make sense? Not really, as you can see by the photos how badly the house had deteriorated over the years, yet we still lived in it. I guess I just want to feel justified in asking for a decent rent.
The living/dining room is now becoming a single apartment with one bedroom, an open plan kitchen/living/dining area with the fireplace,a small bathroom which needs to be updated, and a hallway closet. I am going to re-use cabinets from the old kitchen in order to save money cause they’re in great condition. It has a large balcony that wraps around 2 sides of the house, large windows on both sides with views of the mountain, its own entrance and a parquet floor which will not need to be replaced, just refinished. It should be a nice place, despite the overkill of timber… There is more than enough to do without adding painting or replacing the ceiling.
Did I mention I quit my job so I can concentrate on grooming and art? After spending months in Athens overseeing renovations, naturally. Rental income will be VERY handy right now.
z
PS. Enjoy the photos, click to enlarge for the full horror.
Discolourations on the wallpaper in the bedroom.Faded wallpaper in the hallway.Mysterious stains on the wallpaper.Peeling paint in the large bathroom.Water damage near the radiator.The wallpaper was peeling so I gave it a hand.Mended door jam from when we got broken into.Sun damaged carpe in the small bedrooms.The hallway and kitchen carpet.Stripped and painted hallway.The carpet backing had turned to dust.The floor under the fridge.Hallway carpet removed.Water damage near the kitchen sink.The kitchen cabinets and ceiling.The parquet floor where it needs fixing.The bar with hideous glass bricks.Swinging door to the hallway.The onyx fireplace and dining area.The front door and dining area.
‘I could go into the story of my life and the deep down reasons I’ve disliked (and even resented) Greece since first moving here as a 10 year old many years ago, but its a long story involving a child who felt like she was ripped from a town, a life, and a family she loved, moved to a foreign country far away against her will, where she knew no one and who’s people were cruel to animals. And who sincerely believed she would never again see the people and places she loved.’
I thought I’d share a song which totally encapsulated my view of the world at the time. I used to hear it and cry for everything I’d lost.
Sure, the song is in greek (so I’ll provide a translation below) but to me, it is everything I was feeling at the time.
I first heard it on the ship from Melbourne to Athens. The Patris.
The Patris is a very well known ship amongst greeks – It took so many people from their home towns all over Geece towards a better life in the 60s and 70s, including a lot of proxy brides sent to marry men they’d never met.
“… no one knew where they were traveling to – they were to be thousand miles away from their families, [they didn’t know] if they would come back home ever again.”
Of course, we were some of the few who took it going the other way – from Australia to Greece.
But for me, the feelings were the same cause I was too young to understand that the parting did not have to be forever.
Here is the song…
Here are the lyrics in greek (cause I know some of you will get a kick out of seeing greek) –
Χωρίς το σύννεφο βροχή δεν κατεβαίνει Ούτε το δάκρυ χωρίς καημό Χωρίς τον άνεμο τα δέντρα δεν λυγάνε Δεν σταματάνε οι πικρές δίχως γυρισμό
Αχ να μπορούσα τα λιμάνια να τα κλείσω Να σταματήσω τα τρένα στον σταθμό Να ‘χα τη δύναμη τα βράχια να κυλήσω Να μην αφήσω δρόμο για τον χωρισμό Να ‘χα τη δύναμη τα βράχια να κυλήσω Να μην αφήσω δρόμο για τον χωρισμό
Γιατί κοιτάς τα μάτια μου τα βουρκωμένα Που πας στα ξένα Σε ωκεανό Γιατί κοιτάς τα χέρια μου τα λαβωμένα Που πας στα ξένα και έχουν σφίξει κεραυνό
Αχ να μπορούσα τα λιμάνια να τα κλείσω Να σταματήσω τα τρένα στον σταθμό Να ‘χα τη δύναμη τα βράχια να κυλήσω Να μην αφήσω δρόμο για τον χωρισμό Να ‘χα τη δύναμη τα βράχια να κυλήσω Να μην αφήσω δρόμο για τον χωρισμό
And here in english (excuse the double line spacing, I have no control over the app on the tablet) –
Without a cloud there is no rain,
Nor tears without pain.
Without wind the trees don’t bend,
This anquish won’t stop without (a) return.
If only I could shut the ports,
(If only I could) stop the trains at the station.
If only I had the power to roll the rocks
So there is no road for separation.
Why are you looking at my tearful eyes,
You go to foreign lands, on the ocean.
Why are you looking at my wounded hands,
You go to foreign lands and I’m holding lightning.
If only I could shut the ports
(If only I could) stop the trains at the station.
If only I had the power to roll the rocks
So there is no road for separation.
——–
You may think this is melodramatic… but remember, I was a child of immigrants, who’d left their home towns and loved ones behind themselves, never knowing if they would see them again. They missed them and cried for missing them… I myself, never saw anyone from Greece, how was I expected to believe I’d ever see my loved ones in Australia again?
What made the goodbye infinitely worse was seeing my Uncle George, my favourite uncle, hiding behind a column as the ship set sail, crying… Proof positive I would never see him again.
Of course I was wrong. I’ve been back and forth between Greece and Australia all my life, but back then, this song hit me really hard.
I realise that I haven’t been posting regularly for a long time now. It seems that when I’m ‘up’ I’m creative and fun and have lots to share, but when I’m ‘down’ (or frustrated, or stressed, or life just gets too much for me) I’m quiet and don’t feel like sharing.
I often get critised by non-greeks who move here to live in the beauty of Greece and its islands – the brilliant blue skies, the light, the sea, the culture, the people. These people get annoyed at me for not absolutely loving it here and for complaining, for not appreciating how lucky I am to live ‘in paradise’. In fact, years ago my brother and cousin didn’t want me hanging out with their wives cause my bias against Greece would rub off on them.
Don’t think I just plain hate Greece – I don’t. Greece is part of me. I lived here for years when I was younger, but Greece and I have a love-hate relationship. More hate than love some of the time, but its inside me. I especially love Paros, there are parts of Athens I love and other parts I appreciate. Its just that life here is not easy if you have to work under greek conditions in order to live… for someone who was used to living in a country where most things made sense. Here nothing seems to make sense – and perhaps I’m just too stubborn to accept it and live with it.
I could go into the story of my life and the deep down reasons I’ve disliked (and even resented) Greece since first moving here as a 10 year old many years ago, but its a long story involving a child who felt like she was ripped from a town, a life, and a family she loved, moved to a foreign country far away against her will, where she knew no one and who’s people were cruel to animals. And who sincerely believed she would never again see the people and places she loved.
Right now I’m fighting to keep it together and find a way to be who I am/want to be and live the life I want to live, while living and working in this country.
Wages here suck. I’d never be able to get anywhere as an employee. Not on a single wage, even owning my own house. I’d survive, but thats it. No extravagant shopping, no trips, nothing. If I was content to just go to work, walk my dogs (more on that later), cook, eat, catch up with friends now and then, and have no hobbies bigger than fit in my lap, I could be content in my little house in a small life on a beautiful island.
But I have hobbies, interests, passions, and ambitions, that require space. I paint on canvas, rocks and marble, I draw on paper or any other surface I find, I make sculptures, I make art from trash, I groom dogs, I sew, I make jewelery, and baskets, I remake dolls, I want to work with clay, I want to get back to remaking furniture and I miss my power tools. So I’m frustrated because I don’t have the space. Not many people understand that – my house is fine ‘for a single person’.
I am happiest when I’m making things. I am most happy when I’m making stuff I want to make for myself, and then being able to sell them after. But unlike most countries, Greece doesn’t have weekend markets or other avenues for sellers to sell stuff. I miss being able to make stuff and take part in a market now and then!
Working in a job 6 hrs a day 6 days a week (aka a part time job), then grooming as often as I can in the warmer months, fitting in whatever painting I can when I’m not too tired, is not what I dreamed living on a greek island would be like. For one thing I envisioned living here once I’d retired – no need for a job to hem me in – so I could create and do things I enjoyed.
Living the dream means not having to work for under 5 euros an hour in jobs you don’t like.
In Australia I built up a grooming business slowly, making a name for myself by grooming 3 days a week and working part time, till I took the leap to make it my full time job. I could do that cause it was considered a hobby and, since I was paying taxes on my real job, I didn’t have to declare my hobby income. Ditto with anything I sold at the odd market or online.
Here, unless you want to risk a huge fine for earning black money (there is no such thing as hobby income here), you have to register a business, which has monthly costs whether you earn anything or not, not allowing you the luxury of building up a business slowly. For now I have registered a business and, having no space, I go to people’s houses to clip their dogs…Its not ideal. I feel like I’ve taken a big step backwards to how I started years ago. Even then I had the space for a grooming room in my own home… I don’t have the money to jump in and rent a space here, fit it out and tide me over till the business can support me.
So I stress over how to balance the need to earn a living while building up a grooming business without a space to do it in, and still be creative.
Dealing with taxation, government rules and regulations etc is frustrating. Add in dealing with the medical system for mom, and getting just about anything done… everything in Greece is frustrating – as my post about mom’s drama with the ferry showed. UGH.
Can you believe that we have to vaccinate our dogs every single year for rabies? The same vaccinations they give in other countries in Europe last 3 years… but here, its every year. Why?
I mentioned dogs. Plural.
You’d never guess this to be the face of a monster.
I adopted a purebred miniature poodle who’s mother (an 88yr old woman) had a stroke. He is 7 years old, white, his name is Phoebo (my version of his name, cause I laughed when Phoebe on Friends wanted to name one of the triplets after herself). Phoebo is loving and cuddly and cute, he gets along with everyone, people and other animals, then turns into Cujo if you touch him where he doesn’t want to be touched. He’s a disgrace to me as a groomer…
This is how he looked when I got him… goobers the size of walnuts under each eye.
I adopted him cause a biting dog will end up being tossed aside or euthanised. And he bites hard. He means it. I suspect that he’s been beaten for biting and thats just made him worse.
By the time I got him he’d been away from his home for at least a month, living in a boarding kennel where the people in charge were fearful of him. He’d been adopted and returned twice cause he can be quite vicious when he doesn’t want you to do something to him.
Second day I had him I thought I’d clean his eyes with a damp tissue and he attacked me, not just biting the hand which held the tissue like a normal bitey dog, but launching himself at me, biting me in the crook of my elbow.
OUCH.
I was not the one who risked life and limb to trim even this much of him!
Its been two weeks now. I’m in training by a trainer I’d never have been following normally. But then I’ve never had a dog like this before, and I’m a groomer with a rep for handling difficult dogs! The rules are different to anything I’ve ever done before. With this groomer/trainer its ‘no lap. no sharing the bed. make sure he knows you’re the boss. he needs to know you have the power but won’t hit him.’ Perhaps he’s right. My way of loving and gentle ways isn’t working. I thought it was the few times I did something he didn’t like he went bezerk but didn’t bite. Then this morning he bit me again.
Sigh.
I can’t let him win. He’s such a sweet dog. I need to make him a better dog.
Somewhere among all the angst which is my life, I figured I’d share a little ray of sunshine….
My good friend Valerie bought me this maimed ceramic piggy bank when we were looking at secondhand furniture at a shop nearby. I fell in love with his cute little face and the fact that, without ears) he looked more like an aardvark than a pig.
Originally, I intended to sand off his ear ‘stumps’ to make him look more aardvark-like but opted to leave them in place… they kinda make him look surprised.
I kept him as he was for a long time, then one day, while I had the chalkpaint out for another project, I gave him a once over.
I love the result…. after all, everything looks better with a bit of paint!
junk4joy 