Mantel Skirt

A year after finding the right paint color for the mantel, I've finished dolling it up by attaching a skirt to the bottom.  The pink gingham-with-roses fabric is a curtain valance I found at Goodwill about six years ago for a dollar and bought knowing I'd find a use for it someday.  Someday arrived a few weeks ago when I realized this would make the perfect finishing touch for the mantel.  Since I couldn't bear to cut into the material, I just slipped a tension rod through the opening at the top and am letting the extra length drape onto the floor at the bottom.  I now keep my boxes of note cards, holiday cards, stationery, and stickers in the space behind the curtain.  (The Cat in the Hat is the school's next surprise delivery.  He was finally packed away yesterday afternoon.)  The pink skirt ties the white wood and the pink wall together better, and the mantel looks cozier now than it did pre-skirt in the two pictures below. 

And the roses in the skirt match the wooden rose applique above it.  ♥

 And I am much happier now that that's all figured-out.  The "mantel project" still requires--in my mind--some twinkle lights and a hooked rug, and I want to add a  red heart here somewhere too, and I'm thinking about extending the fabric "wallpaper" (in another pattern) to either side of the pink yardstick "borders" so the bare wall won't be showing at all, BUT the skirt, at least, gets me one step closer to the vision I have for this little wall. 

Ah!  The pure contentment of simply puttering around one's home like this!  ♥

I say to myself that I shall try to make my life like an open fireplace, so that people may be warmed and cheered by it and so go out themselves to warm and cheer. ~ George Matthew Adams

Christmas Eve!  My favorite day of the whole year.  ♥  It's our first Christmas with the mantel, and while the new-old (vintage, from eBay a couple months ago) tree turned out a bit busier-looking than the one I'd had in mind--I'd wanted just a string of little clip-on candle lights, gingerbread men, and pink hearts, simple and pink and sweet--it all came together.  I took some time a few weeks ago to re-sew my pink gingham stocking since it had never been really stocking-shaped and its size hadn't matched Mike's Yankees one.  'Better now.  'Had to boost the supposed-to-be-five-feet-tall tree up onto a tray table to make it taller than the mantel.  Then had to secure the tree to the table with a ten-pound weight so it would stop pitching forward.  And most of the time, the lowest branches are covered with grocery store bags because a certain four-legged someone keeps trying to chew them.  It's always something with our Christmas trees--the last two years saw our old one tethered to the wall with a bungee cord--but again, it came together. 

That's the still-unfinished wing chair in the foreground.  I stopped working on it this fall so my money would go toward Christmas and not toward fabric and upholstery trims for awhile, but soon, I'll start it again.  When it's done, it will be sitting where the tree is now.  ♥  When I first decorated the tree and mantel, I added the little wreath (below) between our stockings, but I took it down last night.  It seems too busy with it up.  A string of heart-shaped lights is still on my list for the mantel, but that didn't happen in time for Christmas.  And now that I look at these pictures, I see that the little "love" sign inside the wreath would likely be perfect on its own between the stockings. The little Garfield under the tree is actually Stuffed's stocking.  Garfield is holding a tiny stocking labeled "Stuff it!" and we fill it with cat treats and/or a toy.  This year, a toy.  (My mom sent him a little pouch of treats.)  ♥ 

And the faux fire is one I painted a few weeks ago.  I had been meaning to do this for awhile, and finally, on a day off, I set up bowls of acrylic paints, gold glitter nail polish left over from a Pirates game, brushes, and a big square of oilcloth cut from the roll I'd used for the cupboards, turned on About a Boy to play in the background while I painted, and began building a fire. 

I used two thumbtacks to hang it inside the mantel.  I might prefer the way the painting looked about six photos into the project--a much simpler log fire at that point--but I'm not sure.  It will do for this year. 

The angel that serves as our tree-topper was a gift from my best friend Sommer's mom eighteen years ago toward the end of my first semester of college.  The flowers that had been in its arms were getting droopy, so this Christmas, it's holding a big heart instead. This angel touches me even more now than when I first received it.  Betty had sent it to my dorm address along with a note and another little gift in a prettily-decorated shoebox.  That was around/right before Christmas 1995, about nine months after Sommer had died.  The Christmas before that, Christmas 1994, Sommer was alive and well--she would die in a car accident a few months later--and it was actually a joke between us that everyone was giving me angel-related gifts that year.  That Christmas, I received a cassette tape of "music of the angels" from my aunt Laurie, an angel poster from my parents, angel ornaments, angel figurines, etc. and Sommer and I laughed between ourselves about it because angels actually scared me--or at least, they kind of freaked me out a bit.  They always look like they're standing (or floating) stock-still, they usually appear expressionless and neither male nor female,  something about their wings. . . .They just creeped me out.  No one else knew that, I guess, so it was angel-after-angel that Christmas, but it was strange to receive sooooooo many and from soooooo many different people all during one holiday.  Over Christmas vacation from high school that year, surrounded in my bedroom by all these angel gifts, I made myself a mix tape.  For reasons I didn't even understand, I labeled one side of the tape "Songs to Comfort Me" and made an instrumental piece from my new "music of the angels" gift the first song on it.  Nine weeks later, Sommer died--and that tape was the only music I listened to those first couple months, and the angels all suddenly made sense, like they were part of a small army that had been sent ahead of time to help lift me up.  (In a way, of course, that only made all these angels even stranger and more mysterious to me, but a good-strange and a comforting-mysterious now, at least.)  Betty didn't know any of that when she made me my "Sommer angel" later that year, though, which made it all the more meaningful.  ♥ 

 Mike's Spider-Man holds the tiny sign my friend Madai sent years ago.  Love is all around. 

'Now off to bake sugar cookies for today, peanut butter fudge for tonight, cinnamon rolls for tomorrow, and to re-do my to-do list one last time pre-holiday.  And to call my parents.  ♥  I love imagining what everyone's up to today, and images of you guys and my other loved ones keep coming to mind.  Merry Christmas to you all.  ♥

Making Me Happy Tonight

Have I mentioned here before how much I love the little Art Deco-ish storybook houses like Hugh Comstock's famous "Hansel" cottage in Carmel, California?  I've saved images of similar cottages  in my home/decorating scrapbooks and inspiration folders since I was thirteen.  

The steeply pitched roof!  ♥  The rounded door and windows!  ♥  The stone exterior!  ♥  The crazy crooked chimney!  ♥  

 If I could jump into any of these illustrations, I would.  Ohhhhhh, I would, I would, I would.  

I've always found it fascinating that certain styles of houses simply seem like Home to us--and others, not so much.  The tiny storybook cottages--ideally set in the wild woods--make my heart ache, just as huge Victorian houses speak to Aunt Laurie and almost any small blue house will be loved by Mom.  

I love hearing about peoples' dream homes.  

In an old issue of Mary Engelbreit's Home Companion (aka Sweetest! Magazine! Ever!), a feature on a guest bedroom in Engelbreit's own home shows some of her collection of miniature houses, and the accompanying caption from Engelbreit reads:  "For me, a house is a symbol of everything good."  Yes.  And for me, a little Art Deco cottage, especially so.  

You know, then, how much I squealed when I finally found not only a vintage vase I loved for our mantel here, but also one that is a nine-inch-tall model of my dream house.  ♥  Look at the chimney!!  And the cute little window!  And how the exterior is even made to look like brick and stone!  It's the find of a lifetime. 

My patience for projects like the mantel makeover drives my mom crazy.  I'll go a year--or in this case, a year and six months, specifically--without a vase for it because I want The Right One, not just any one.  Still on my list for the mantel is The Perfect Hooked Rug for in front of it.  That search continues.  (This rug, in the fourth, fifth, and sixth photos down, made my heart beat faster when I saw it, but alas!  Someone else out there is enjoying it.  It's such gorgeous work.  ♥)  In the meantime, a vase is finally in the spot I had set aside for one.  Bit by bit, and find by find, it is coming together.  Look at the tiny lamps to either side of the front door!  ♥ 

It is a little thing in every sense, but let's hear it for little things.  :)

I'm a happy lady here tonight.  ♥  

Mantel Makeover (and Over and Over)

A full year and four months after my dad built this mantel for me and Mike, it is finally the way I want it and ready to display a few of our other treasures.  This is the mantel we were given for our first wedding anniversary present from my parents in April 2012.  ♥  My mom bought the wood for it, and my dad made it in just one day, in the hours before Aunt Laurie, Uncle Warren, and cousin Mark arrived from out of town for the weekend.  "Make it extra small for them," my mom had instructed my dad.  "They're in an apartment, remember."  And even though it goes goes against all his furniture-building instincts, he left the mantel unstained since he knew I would want to paint it anyway. 

It was the sweetest surprise, but since Mike and I hadn't been expecting it, of course, we hadn't rented a car for that weekend with enough trunk-space to accomodate a mantel, so it had to be stored at my parents' house another full year, until we rented a car again for our next anniversary trip. 

In the meantime, I worked on redoing the wall I knew would be the Mantel Wall.  The mantel is a little over three feet across, and this shortest wall in our apartment is only slightly longer, so this is the perfect spot for it.  Our first two Christmases in this apartment have seen our tree in a cozy nook area just to the left of this wall, so imagine this winter when our tree is beside this tiny white mantel and sweet pink wall!  ♥  But I'm getting ahead of myself.  I knew I wanted the mantel wall to be different from all the others in our home, and since we are not allowed to wallpaper, I worked around the rules by attaching a few yards of fabric to the wall instead.  This pretty print is Tanya Whelan's "Barefoot Roses."  I love it.  I nailed it up in a few spots and then decided to hot-glue painted yardsticks to its edges to make a border of sorts.  I didn't do World's Greatest Job cutting around the smoke alarm, but my mistakes aren't so noticeable in the end. 

By the time we unloaded the van--a van!  We took no chances this time--we'd rented for our anniversary and visit home to my parents this April, the wall was almost ready--I was still in the middle of hanging family photos and revamping my beloved "Home Sweet Apartment" needlepoint, but the fabric was up--and I was more than eager, after a year's wait, to finish the mantel that would grace it.  I bought a rose applique for the mantel's front, and while the combination of tape and wood glue worked its magic, I finally began painting.

First I went with the Sherwin Williams-brand "Captivating Cream" left from the hutch re-do. 

It was pretty, but I hadn't realized that the sides of the mantel's wall were almost the same shade as the now-cream mantel and yardstick-border, and it just didn't thrill me. 

By the time my birthday Tulips were resting on top, I had tried the leftover "Mesclun Green" from the hutch project.  I love bold-colored mantels.  There are some vivid Kelly green ones online that make me happy just to look at, and I've saved photos of gorgeous pink ones too. 

The green was a definite Strike Two, however, and after a couple days spent analyzing various shades of pink paint, I chose a couple, "sure" that if I didn't love one, I'd love the other and could use both for extra projects around the apartment anyway.  First up was Sherwin Williams' "In the Pink."  And by this point, Mike's parents' wedding portrait and my parents' high school graduation portraits were watching over all the action.  ♥

This was too "Barbie's Dream House" pink for me, especially against the pink wall and now-pink fabric-border, so I opened the can of "Charming Pink."  And was not at all charmed, as is evident in the mess of a photo below.  It looked more white than pink when dry, but more unintentionally-faded-white than true white.  By this point, I was tired of the entire project and took a break from all things mantel-related for awhile.

Until yesterday, when I decided that white was the "obvious" way to go.  It would connect the white of the photos' mattes to the mantel, and the brightness would "pop" against the pink wall better than any other color--except maybe black, but this was too sweet a mantel for black.  I explained to the clerk at Sherwin Williams yesterday morning that I wanted a "real" white, not at all cream, not at all gray, nothing yellowed or faded or subtle about it, but instead a true white, and he instantly said, "You probably want our 'Extra White.'"  And he was right.  This was, I see at long last, what I'd wanted all along.  ♥

It looks crisp and bold but still sweet and cottage-ey, it is striking against both the pink floral wall and the framed photos of our parents and siblings, and all the little things that have been set aside for displaying on the mantel will really shine against the bright white.  That patchwork wing chair I've been redoing?  It will be going to the left of the mantel, with the Christmas tree between them every winter.  ♥  With an overstuffed ottoman and a vintage rug in-front, and string lights.  And red hearts!  And trailing houseplants!  And!  And!  And!!

The white seems to show off the mantel's details best too.  Dad did such a beautiful job with this.

After straining back, arm, and neck all afternoon yesterday with paintbrush in-hand, I saw that I was finally done, and I called Mom late last night to tell her.  She completely "got" it and was so excited to hear the news.  "We told you you'd know the right color when you hit upon it," she reminded me.  I had shown her, Dad, and Aunt Laurie photos of the mantel during my birthday visit home a few months ago, and she and Aunt Laurie had said that it looked pretty already but that they could tell I wasn't thrilled with it.  I'm thrilled now, and it was a relief to be able to say so, especially after all the work and wait-time my family had put into this first anniversary surprise for us. 

So sweet!  ♥

And now this dear little mantel and the space around it will get to be decorated, certainly a more relaxing stage than the painting one.  I'm mailing pictures to Mom, Dad, and Aunt Laurie tomorrow.  And I'm not even looking at paintbrushes today, I assure you.  My mantel is done!  ♥

Home Sweet Apartment ~ in Pink

Since bringing back from my parents' house the mantel my dad built for me and Mike last April, I've been painting it and fixing up the things that will surround it.  My treasured old "Home Sweet Apartment" needlepoint is the first piece I've revamped for the mantel-wall.  It was one of my very first eBay finds back in 2001, that most-miserable of years, and even though--or maybe especially because--I was unexpectedly living with my parents again at the time, I was thrilled when mine was the winning bid:  This vintage sampler, like a Field of Dreams-type "If-you-find-the-decorations-for-it-the-new-home-will-come" talisman,  gave me something concrete to work toward as a frustrated twenty-four-year-old.  

In the summer of 2002 when I finally had my first all-to-myself-with-no-roommates apartment, I delighted in unpacking the needlepoint and dolling it up, and what a year before had arrived pine green and maroon with an unfinished wooden frame became pink and aqua to match the little dining nook in my new place.  

"Home Sweet Apartment" behind me as I would sit in the corner seat under it there and work on school work for my second Masters program.  "Home Sweet Apartment" beside my newly-ex-boyfriend and I as we sat across from each other at this vintage tablecloth-clad table eating bowls of my homemade soup and awkwardly figuring out our post-breakup friendship.  "Home Sweet Apartment" above me as I bawled my heart out in this pink-dotted chair the following New Year's night after realizing we weren't ready to be "just friends" just yet and that we might never be able to in this lifetime.  The sampler over me and my mom when she showed up on a whim with two chocolate muffins from the bakery and listened as I made us tea and told her all about it.  The sampler over a whole bunch of us when I hosted both my first family dinner and first birthday party and relearned that as long as I had love to give--and gave it--I wasn't down for the count.  Before I moved out of this first "all mine" apartment, a former professor joined me for cookies and lemonade under the needlepoint and commented that I was good at making people feel welcome.  "Hospitality is your thing, isn't it," he thoughtfully noted.  And that's when "Home Sweet Apartment" really clicked for me:  I really had created a home here, not just filled and decorated a rented space. 

The pink and aqua needlepoint became a more subdued and not-very-Val-like red and yellow in 2007, so as not to overwhelm Mike with my pink-and-rainbow-loving tendencies.  Our studio apartment was so tiny, it was hard to do any real decorating in it at all, so the yellow and red actually didn't bother me too much.  When you can roll out of bed in your home-sweet-apartment and land on the kitchen floor, or open the bathroom door while sitting at the dinner table, the color combination of a sampler's matte and frame isn't your biggest homemaking concern.  Besides, the sweet sampler watched over me and Mike, this time hanging from the apartment's built-in mantel, during all our goings-on for four years the same as it had when it had been pink and aqua for me before.  Home was still love-filled and our favorite place.  Be it ever so humble, you know.   

Today it became pink again, though, and I don't see it changing after this.  It finally looks just right to me.  I covered the yellow matte with the dotted pink upholstery fabric that I had used to cover the captain chairs in my little circa-2002 pink and aqua corner.  I repainted the red frame black.  And I removed the glass-front since I don't trust this apartment's wall to hold its weight.  While I continue painting the mantel and fixing up the wall around it, at least this much is done.  That I figured out a way to incorporate the old chair fabric makes me especially happy.  

"Lighten up, Val--It's a sampler," I know, but when I look at it, I remember the journey it's accompanied me on and think of it as a witness to the past twelve years.  When Mike and I eventually move on from renting, I will pass it on to its next owners with a prayer for their own resilience and contented refuge in home.  

Sweet, indeed.  ♥