Turned my boyfriends childhood toolbox that he made into a potter. I added grass seed and LOOK it grows! I’d like it thicker, but this will do. I just need to find an old antique gardening tool. Suh-weet!
Bookshelves - LITERALLY- are finished! Spray adhesive - leaf through the book and get it good and stuck! Spray paint your brackets if you can’t find cool/used ones. Once EVERYTHING is dry and your books have been sprayed SEVERAL times - screw the brackets into the book. Paint screws to match :) Screw screw screw into thee wall! Enjoy you literal bookshelves!
Turned my daddy’s guitar (RIP father Du) into a picture holder!
This is way better then it sitting all, ho-hum no one plays me, in the corner.
I am so freaking creative sometimes.
(Patting myself on the back since no one is home to do it for me.)
I once was a guilty lad who told her school tales of struggle and strife on social media platforms, but — I grew the eff-bomb up. I realized this, that, the other, blah and blah! Moral of this brief recap? High school is over! It has actually been over for longer then I care to share. Some people find that hard to believe. So, let’s capitalize on this marvel that is Facebook and turn life’s Facebook sitch-ee-ations and stories into a T.V. re-enactment show: As The Facebook Feeds Roll.
It is those who have yet to see the light that keep Facebook so mildly entertaining. Following people and their lives, reading their posts, their drama — Oh, the drama! That’s what really sucks you in.
Exhibit A. Early this morning I came to learn that GIRL#1 is having man troubles. Those close to her know. Her post is moderately obvious as to the situation. The kicker — family and friends! It really helps to bring a Facebook story to life when family and friends comment on a situation.
As her Facebook friend you have access to her thoughts and posts, so you read um’. Your goal is not to dig or become a “nosey neighbor,” but you are sucked in by the details as they unfold during every post.
BOYFRIEND apparently has a GIRL #2 on the side. GIRL#1 decides she will take matters into her own hands WITH WORDS! Because nothing says scary like a few f-bomb’s and Facebook threats.
Watch out GIRL#2 danger is on the horizon. Someone made a post about you! GASP! It’s a good thing you aren’t friends with her or you would comment her back so fast!
Forget Civil War re-enactments on the History Channel! We’ve hit a gold mine here with Facebook’s life situations.
Such the good idea. Whose with me?
Popping the lid off the jelly jar, Lou-Lou is brought back to the kitchen.
“We must never make her mad like that again, Mr. Bear.”
“Anger is merely a moment in time. Eventually, we will laugh again.”
Mr. Bear sits on the counter, holding two peanut butter sandwiches oozing with grape jelly. Hopping off her stool, she places the peanut butter back on the lower shelf, where she could reach it later. Lou-Lou grabs Mr. Bear and rests him under her arm. With bits of breadcrumbs and a spot of jelly on her Easter dress she grabs the two sandwiches and tip-toes up the steps to her room. Stopping at her mother’s office door, she makes a fist with her free hand and prepares to knock. Inside, she can hear her mother talking to Richard.
“…Richard will you stop being impossible about this. You and your ex-wife have an extensive collection of baseball memorabilia. I am trying to do what I can, but you need to work with me on this. There is no way she is going to accept the kitchen appliances in place of the broken, signed Albert Bell bat. It is simply not an option.”
Lou-Lou relaxes her fist and decides her mother is far too busy. A handmade sign is tapped to her bedroom door reads: “My Rabbit Hole.”
She pushes the door open and sits on the edge of her bed resting Mr. Bear next to her in an upright position.
“One peanut butter and jelly sandwich for you.”
She holds the second in the small of her hand, “And one for me.”
While eating, Lou-Lou sits dangling her feet off the edge of her bed and listens to her mother cater to Richard.
“We have meticulously been working on this case for over a month. As my client, I would like to this case in your favor, but your ex-wife will not budge.”
She finishes her sandwich and licks the grape jelly between her fingers. Leaping off the bed Lou-Lou puts on her pink and yellow pajamas then jumps back into bed. She tucks the bear in, along side her, and snuggles under the covers.
“Goodnight Mr. Bear.”
“And a good night to you my dearest Lou-Lou.”
Lying on her back she stares at the glowing plastic stars stuck to her ceiling and listens to the faint voice of her mother until her eyes close and she is asleep.
Lou-Lou sits Indian-style pouring herself an imaginary cup of tea.
“More tea Mr. Bear?”
She pushes back the sunflower hat as it falls over her eyes, brushing away loose brown curls as they tickle her nose. Her molted chocolate brown bear hovers over his teacup, with his nose just barely missing the water.
Holding out her teapot, she pauses and waits for the stuffed bear to answer.
“Mr. Bear, it is quite rude not to answer someone when they ask you a question.”
Like the dead returning to life the bear raises his head. His arms and feet jolt as his fur begins to move.
Jumping to her feet, Lou-Lou giggles madly and skips circles around the worn bear. As quickly as her excitement begins, a call from upstairs startles the girl and she freezes in her place. From upstairs she hears the office door sliding open on creaky hinges and Lou-Lou’s mother screams her name.
“Lou-Lou Bella Fitzgerald!”
Without missing a beat Mr. Bear goes limp, his nose submerging into his imaginary cup of tea. Lou-Lou’s mother makes her way down the steps, heels clicking against the wood. Lou-Lou grabs Mr. Bear from his place on the floor, clutching him protectively against her chest. Stopping at the bottom of the staircase her mother looms tall in bright red heels. She looks to her daughter who is rocking on the balls of her bare feet in a white Easter dress. Lou-Lou hides Mr. Bear behind her back.
“What on earth are you doing down here?”
Surrounded by puddles of imaginary tea she answers, “Nothing.”
“What did I tell you about young ladies who lie?”
“They grow up to become ugly people.”
“Darling, I am on the phone with a very important client and it is getting late. Go into the kitchen and make yourself a sandwich for dinner, then put yourself to bed.”
The red heels pound their way up the steps. The office door screeches shut, muffling the conversation behind the office door.
“I am so sorry Richard. Like I was saying, we may be able to negotiate the baseball memorabilia, but because the signed Babe Ruth card was an equal investment I cannot guarantee it.”
Her mother’s office, the only room that Lou-Lou and her imagination were not permitted to play in. Making her way into the kitchen she pushes her stool against the counter. Lou-Lou looks to Mr. Bear as she rests him on the counter top and remembers the last summer, a day when her mother was working and she was left home alone to care for herself. She and Mr. Bear were busy with their imaginations upstairs when Mr. Bear noticed the office door was left open.
Lou-Lou looks to Mr. Bear, “Mother must have been in a hurry. She never leaves the office door open.”
To be continued…
Projects! I love being creative around the house and this weekend was no different.
Remove your fan blades and give um’ a good scrub-a-dub-dub!
Buy an awesome new pack of Crayola Crayons.
Pick an amazing four-some and draw!
Put the fan blades back on your fan!
Please note: Gene Simmons if you see this cool idea please do not sue me because you didn’t profit off my idea. That being said, give me a call and we’ll talk!