My dear friend Casey (whom I couldn’t live without) has a term for my type of projects. She’s named my style “Alice in Wonderlandish”. She said my pieces were full of bright colors, and were a little quirky with interesting shapes and unique  features. If grouped together they look Wonderlandish. Never thought of it that way. Lately though with the crazy things that have been happening around here, I do sort of feel like we fell down the rabbit hole. For example:

Let me tell you about last night (I swear I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried). So I’m in bed downstairs, notice I say “I’m in bed” not “I’m asleep”. I lay there, counting sheep, from 1:00 to 2:15. For those who have asked, I do take melatonin … no dice. So at 2:15 Charlie starts barking hysterically in the living room. Then it stops. 15 minutes later he’s doing it again, only this time it’s his “someone’s at the door” bark. I hear my hubby’s feet shuffle around upstairs and figure he’s got it under control. 3:00 same freaking thing. I’m done. I stumble up the stairs to find Charlie staring out the front door going nuts. I look out and what do I see? A HUGE FREAKING OPOSSUM!  This sucker is bigger than 2 of my dogs combined, and it’s just looking right at me, eating Walter’s food.

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I wasn’t always a dog lover. Anyone who knows me now will find that hard to believe. Growing up, all we had was a cat.  Now I didn’t dislike dogs, I just didn’t like walking into someone’s home and being jumped on, having my legs clawed up and getting showered in slobber. Plus there’s the fact that I’m allergic to them.

When I married my husband he wanted a dog. I told him no way. I had lots of excuses: my allergies, the jumping, not enough room, the slobber. So for years we just had cats.

Back when I was working, one weekend we were setting up a booth at the Wichita Women’s Fair.  It just happened to be a weekend there was a massive blizzard. My dear hubby was helping trek loads of clothes from my store to this convention in 2 foot drifts.

It was absolutely miserable.

After it was over and we thawed out, I told him the next day we could do whatever he wanted. And of course, he wanted to go look at puppies. Ugh! But how could I say no after what he just helped me do.

So I said “Fine, but we are just looking”. It seemed he had done some research and found out which dogs were hypo-allergenic, so that is what he took me to see. We went to the breeder’s house the next day, and the room he brought us in was wall-to-wall puppies. One adorable face after another. Maltese, shi tzus, malti-poos, bichon-poos. Lots of fuzzy little babies. Of course the breeder sticks them right in our arms and my defenses are weakening. I’m actually thinking about taking one home. This is not at all what I was planning.

My daughter found this little apricot bichon-poo, and she fell instantly in love. It was crawling all over her, and my hubby. It was hopping all over the floor. My husband is pleading his case: we just bought a new house with a big yard; it’s good for kids to have a dog; I have always had cats so why couldn’t he have a dog. Dang it!

So next thing I know, we are dog owners. How did this happen? I didn’t want a dog.

We went out and spent a fortune on dog supplies. That night we stuck her in her kennel and went to bed. Ten minutes later all hell broke loose. Gracie (that’s what we named her) was screaming bloody murder. I jump up thinking she must have ripped off her arm … or worse.

In a panic, I pull the blanket off the kennel, and there she sits, wagging her cute little tail. What was that? She’s not bleeding, her paw isn’t caught in the kennel door.

Then my hubby informs me that they just do this the first week or so because they don’t like being separated from their litter mates or you. Are you kidding me? He failed to mention this when he was pleading his case.

So needless to say we got ZERO sleep for three days. After that she was fine. Thank God!

Well Gracie started out as all of ours but she has turned out to be mine. She follows me everywhere. I can’t even go to the bathroom by myself! She is such a great dog though. Yes, she hates all other dogs but she loves all people.

She is now seven years old and if anything ever happened to her you would have to lock me away forever.

Now looking back I would never again get a dog from a breeder. Back then I didn’t know any better. I now volunteer at my local humane society,  and there are so many dogs there that need homes, why would you intentionally bring anymore into the world?

So needless to say I am now a converted dog lover. I think until you have your own dog, you can’t truly understand how fantastic dogs can be. The unconditional love they give you can change your life.  Someday I will have to go over some of the crazy stories about my dogs.

Getting back to business, this old table came from a yard sale a dirty brown.

I painted it a pretty coral, distressed it, and was ready to glaze it. I stuck the little drawer back in and this is what I saw.

Hmmm…didn’t think about the sides showing. So it took me another day to put 2 coats on the sides then glazed and waxed.

Turned out pretty cute.

I’m starting to look old.

Maybe I’m not starting to, maybe I have been and no one has told me. Because really, who’s going to tell you? Not your friends because they want to remain your friend. Not your coworkers because they have to continue working with you. Definitely not your husband because even said lovingly it’s a sure fire way to be in the dog house for a long time.

I know I’m vain to even be talking about this but things are definitely going down hill fast. I’m hollowing out under my eyes, I’m getting marionette lines around my mouth, little crows feet around my eyes, my lips seem to be disappearing and my skin just looks dull. What the heck?

I used to be able to run errands without putting on makeup and knowing I didn’t look great but not too bad. Now those days are gone. Now when I pass by a mirror bare faced I scare myself. Who is this exhausted looking woman looking back at me? I try buying the newest lotions and potions, but time still keeps marching right across my face. I think my face needs some plumping up. A little Botox around my eyes, some restalyn around my lips or at the very least, a good facial and some microdermabrasion.

Unfortunately we don’t have an unlimited budget. We have our daughter’s Invisalign to pay off, we are saving for a car for the child, would someday like to take a vacation, and grooming 3 dogs every five weeks is pricey. Now I could get the facial and microderm for my birthday or I could have a weekend in Kansas City with my hubby going to all of my favorite vintage shops. The latter will probably win out.

It’s kind of hard when your daughter keeps getting more beautiful and looks fantastic without a stitch of makeup and your own face is shriveling up. Trust me I’m not writing  fishing for complements (I hate people who do that).

I’m not asking people to write and say “no Shanna your really not so shriveled”. I’m just stating the facts people and the facts suck. I know growing older is a fact of life and it’s better than the alternative, but my friends, I don’t have to like it.

Speaking of old, I found this little telephone stand/side table in some pretty sad shape. I’m not sure if it had been left outside for awhile, but it needed some serious sprucing up. I sanded it down a bit (something I only do if completely necessary).

When I painted it this pretty aqua I got from Lowe’s the remains of the stain underneath kept bleeding through the paint. After several coats of paint and it still bleeding through I put on a coat of Kills primer and then continued painting. Problem solved. It turned out to be a cute piece!

You know when you have one of those days where everything seems to go wrong? That was today for me. Before I was even out of bed I had a grouchy teenager yelling at me that I had washed the wrong shorts for her last night. Pretty sure she was lucky I washed any shorts for her.

My husband’s car was being worked on, so after having only two hours of sleep last night (insomnia) I had to take my daughter to school and him to work. I had a doctor’s appointment so I had to kill and hour and 1/2. So of course I went to some yard sales. They were total duds.

I arrived at my doctor’s appointment and they informed me that she was in surgery and I would have to come back tomorrow. Seriously? I was so tired and cranky at that point I thought the reception’s unwillingness to pull my doctor out of an operation for me would result in her own would need for a teeny bit of surgery.

Anyway, I drove 15 minutes back home and as I’m pulling into the driveway my aunt calls with a tip on a great desk which was all the way across town. Of course it was.

So I flip around, find this desk (in a questionable part of town) and ask if anyone can help me load it into my car. The nice lady said she would help but she had a bad back. So she helped me but it was basically with all the strength that her pinky finger had. This is a seriously heavy desk to lift alone.

So by the time I was finished I was drenched in sweat. This desk had apparently been HEAVILY smoked around for the last 50 years and now my car stinks like an ashtray. So I finally get home, try to take a nap, and in one hour of rest I get six phone calls.

So much for the nap. Anyway that’s enough of my crabby rant.

On a brighter note this is a little stand I got at a yard sale for $4. It was an ugly chocolate brown. I used a pretty aqua on it, distressed, glazed and waxed.