Halloween Scene Scream

This year, Halloween looks a little bit different.  For one thing, there's no big bowl of candy (sorry, kiddies), just a few token treats for the husband and me.  They're Reese's cups in the shape of, yes, bats.  Which is as fitting as it gets, I guess, when it comes to pandemic eats. 

Another thing that's different is that the husband and I are showing off our costumes on House Party instead of at my parents' Halloween party.  This morning, I scarfed down an extra large dry (thanks to that no-show Walmart grocery delivery order) bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch to empty box number 2.  (It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.)  It was the husband who had the idea to turn the boxes into masks.  He's been harboring empty box number 1 in the pantry for weeks.

Something that hasn't changed this year is our favorite festive amphibian.  Corona can't stop Kermit.  Even if he is stuck in a spider web instead of wedged in a wine glass.  The husband and I think that it's important to mix things up.  When crisis strikes, it's the children who suffer.  

And that, as the mummy said, is a wrap!  Compared to greeting trick-or-treaters and crashing a monster mash bash, it's a subpar way to celebrate spooky.  But all in all not so bad when the creepiest thing going's a cough.  So, sit back, eat more than your fair share of candy, and enjoy the silver lining of not having woken up to a tp'd yard this year.

Happy Halloween!  

Ghosts and Rings and Halloween Things: Haunted Spouses With Axes to Mind

This Halloween post is teeming with treats, the first of which is a ghost story.  It all started when I unpacked this Dale Tiffany Antiques Roadshow Collection mirror from Zulily featuring a fancy lady in a pensive yet defiant pose.  When the husband (who is a huge "Antiques Roadshow" fan) first saw it, he said, "It's cool.  But also kind of creepy."  I agreed, adding, "It's the eyes."  (You can't see them well here, but they're weird and white and seem to peer out of her faux ivory face knowingly.)  "Don't worry," I said.  "You won't have to look at her; she's going to live in my closet."  That's when I got the idea to write a slightly scary but mostly silly story.  What's more, our house, a white Dutch colonial straight out of The Amityville Horror, is the ideal setting.  

So without further ado, let's enter the troubled mind of Lousia Leigh Perkins (which is not, by the way, her real name.  I don't say this for her protection or mine, but because I don't want those Antiques Roadshow hotshots stealing credit.)

It felt strange being back in the house.  The last time I'd been there was 1927 when it had just been built and rose from the street like a tall, frosted pastry.  "Oh Louisa, I'm so glad you could come," Diana had said, her long, knotted pearls and bobbed hair like a gash against the prissy wallpaper.  "You're always so . . . theatrical in your hats and big dresses."  I bristled.  Although we'd been friends since we'd met at Miss Abby's Charm School when we were seven, Diana's comments about my old-fashioned style never failed to cut me.  "Poor Louisa," I'd overheard her say to her flapper friends.  "Stuck in the turn of the century in those frumpy getups.  It's no wonder Winthrop jilted her."  Although it was true that Winthrop had left me, my clothes had had nothing to do with it.  The culprit had been Diana.  He'd been bewitched by her cat's eyes and flirtatiousness, by the subtle yet bold way she slid her fingers across his arm.  I had been devastated when I found out, destroying Winthrop's entire collection of ships in a bottle with a single swipe of my parasol.  But what Diana didn't know was that things had changed.  Winthrop had come back to me.  Last night we met at our spot -- the gazebo -- and he said that he missed our evening strolls and how I always knew the names of the flowers.  Also, that he thought he was allergic to Diana's huge tailless cat, Bertha.  I even thought I saw him tear up a little, although I suppose that could have been the remnants of Bertha' s dander.  He said he planned to break the news to Diana at the end of the week before they had lunch with her mother.  That's when he would be mine again -- him and this glorious house.  So, when Diana asked me if I wanted to go upstairs to see her closet, I could afford to be gracious.  The stairs creaked as we climbed, and at the landing the cream and pink dressing room opened like a clam shell exploding with treasure.  Even the sight of all those short skirts and fringed dresses hanging in what should have been the guest bedroom couldn't dull my spirits.  And so I nodded as Diana droned on and pointed out her prized possessions.  "Father is sending my shoes up on Friday, and I'm going to display them here, first by height, then by color."  She indicated an alcove of shelves adjacent to the door to the terrace.  The terrace was above the sunroom, and it was my favorite part of the house.  I imagined sitting up there with Winthrop, discussing the gardens over tea and croissants at a wrought iron table as we watched the world parade by.  Diana saw me eyeing the door and smiled.  "Why don't we go out there?" she said.  Her smile turned smug, but just for a second.  Then she opened the door.  It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, crisp but sunny, the leaves gleaming bright gold and crimson.  I was lost in daydreams of what it would be like to be the mistress here, what it would be like to be Winthrop's wife.  I was picturing myself in a lace ivory gown with a full train when I felt someone push me.  "You'll never have him now," hissed Diana, "and you'll never live in this house."  After a brief struggle, I tumbled over the railing, my hat falling to the ground where my head would soon follow.  I tried to scream, but no sound came out, and within seconds I was plunged into darkness.  

That was ninety-one years ago.  From that moment on, I vowed that I would make it back here someday.  Oh, I couldn't return to haunt Diana and Winthrop once they got married, which they did a scarcely respectable month after my funeral.  I had to wait on account of some bureaucratic nonsense about re-entering the human world only after the elapse of ninety-plus years.  But although I couldn't terrorize my former best friend and fiance, I could watch their lives unfold, and it gave me no small amount of pleasure to watch Winthrop step out on Diana with the cook and laundress.  Now I'm back where I belong, even if I had to become part of this tacky mirror to get here.  As I said, it's strange -- but also exciting.  The new lady of the house says she's going to hang me in her closet -- no doubt the same spacious room where Diana used to showcase her ridiculous wardrobe.  This new woman -- Theresa, or maybe Tracy, her name is -- reminds me a little of her, what with her shopping mania and flashy taste.  It might be fun to mess with her, and throw her off her dress-up game.

And . . . we're back.  Thanks so much, Louisa.

 Fabulous Felt Candy Corn Barrette

 Fabulous Felt Ghost Barrette

 Fabulous Felt Jack-o-Lantern Barrette

Top: Bongo, Sears

Skirt: Merona, Target

Shoes: Delicious, Zulily

Bag: Nordstrom

Belt: Marshalls

Fabulous Felt Gray Bat Barrette

Top: Bongo, Sears
Dress: Zulily
Shoes: Payless
Bag: Cat & Jack, Target
Belt: B Fabulous
Green bangle: B Fabulous
Yellow bangle: B Fabulous
Black and white bracelet: Mixit, JCPenney
Purple heart bracelet: Cloud Nine, Ocean City
Purple bracelet: Wet Seal

 Bright Black Necklace

Top: Material Girl, Macy's

Jeans: Vintage Threads, Target

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Worthington, JCPenney

Bracelets: So, Kohl's

In happier hauntings, I've been wearing variations of these Halloween outfits this week.  Today it's the orange dress and black blouse combo, only I've added my Beetlejuice black and white striped blouse underneath to keep warm.  Yet the one piece that I've worn with everything is this ring:

You may recognize it as one of Samantha's PinkBopp originals, as I've been collecting them.  As always, it's a dollop of decoden deliciousness served up on a filigreed plate.  I love looking down throughout the day and seeing the whimsical witch, trick-or-treat bag, and hot heart pink heart perched prettily on my knuckle.

Also in keeping with the Halloween theme, I replaced Kermit's summer straw hat with a witchy version.

I was going to buy one, but the husband said that he'd rather make one from my stash of black felt.  (He was also the one who plunked Kermie down in this wine glass, which was hand painted by our realtor.)  I was impressed by the result, especially because structural design isn't my strong suit.  But the husband's handy like that.  And not just with mantel decor.  Check out his haunted graham cracker house.  The best part is the menacing tree.

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I hear a thumping upstairs.  Louisa must be playing demolition derby with my coat racks again.

South of the Border Hoarder: Let's Taco 'Bout Brooches

South of the Border Brooches 

Top: Flying Tomato, Marshalls
Skirt: ROSS, Dress for Less
Sandals: MIA, JCPenney
Bag: DSW, embellished by The Tote Trove
Sunglasses: The Tote Trove

What's mean and green and screams Cinco de Mayo?  Guacamole?  No.  Margaritas?  Guess again.  It's nothing edible at all, but our old amigo Kermit (unless you count frog legs as food, which I do not), and he isn't really mean of course, unless he's had a tiff with Miss Piggy.  You may recall that the husband and I outfitted him in a jaunty red scarf this past Christmas.  Now that it's spring, the husband asked me to pick him up a tiny straw hat on one of my many craft runs.  So I did.

It's a little small, but I think that only adds to its charm.  It came in a pack of ten (whoo-hoo!), so I decked out the extras as brooches.  Luckily, I have a whole drawerful of pompoms, which was perfect for this Cinco de Mayo-themed project.  

The finished quasi-sombreros remind me of those straw hat barrettes that were popular in the early 1990s, peddled by places like Claire's (all roads lead back to Claire's, it seems).  Only, those were a little bit country, with pastel bows and flowers, whereas these are a little bit rock and roll, all boho and neon and befitting a mini mariachi band.  Here they are festooning a southwestern wall hanging I have yet to hang in my office, otherwise known as succulent central.  The current cactus count in there?  21.

Anyway, whether you're hitting the local cantina or hanging out at home, festive flare fires up the fun factor.  Well, festive flare and jalapeno poppers.  To which I say, no gracias, as I have an unadventurous, chicken-and-not-hot-cheese-based palate.  

That's why I'll have the quesadilla.  

We Three Rings of Orient Are and Santa Claus is Coming to Clown

Dress: Target
Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: Macy's
Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's
Ring: PinkBopp, Etsy
Necklaces, pins, brooches: The Tote Trove
White bangle: Mixit, JCPenney
Red and lime bangles: B Fabulous
Burgundy bangle: Iris Apfel for INC, Macy's
Slender red bangle: Candie's, Kohl's
Lime stretch bracelet: Cloud Nine

Christmas can be a real three-ring circus.  More than three, really, considering all the references to rings in Christmas songs.  There are the five golden rings in "The Twelve Days of Christmas" and "I'll give you my present, a wedding ring, hear me sing!" in Andy Williams's "Christmas Holiday."  Then there are the ring onomatopoeia shout-outs, that is, the sound of ringing in "Silver Bells," "Jingle Bells," and the sophisticated yet haunting "Carol of the Bells."  But the ring I want to sing about now is the one I just bought from fellow blogger and Etsian Samantha over at PinkBopp.  It's so sweet, a little Candyland right on my hand!  Santa, a gingerbread woman, and a mitten spread cheer from a retro-style red plastic cameo in a super adorable collage of Christmas cuteness.  I've been wearing it with red and green outfits all week, and every time I look at it, I feel the magic of the season -- and also, the need to eat gingerbread.  Is that wrong?  If so, my apologies to Hansel and Gretel. 

Merry Christmas Kawaii Statement Ring, Pink Bopp

Speaking of things that ring and sing, I made a fresh batch of lady brooches, this time, like the city in the aforementioned "Silver Bells," all dressed in holiday style.  Then again, their sunglasses say mai tais in Miami.  Mary may have already had one too many, as her hat -- and, indeed, head -- are askew.

 Fabulous Felt Carol Brooch

Fabulous Felt Holly Brooch

 Fabulous Felt Mary Brooch

Finally, although I'm no Oprah or Maria von Trapp, here are a few of my favorite Christmas things:

1) The husband's hand-carved duck decoys decking the halls (okay, our mantle) in festive felt scarves.  Also, Kermit.  To be clear, Kermit was not hand-carved.

2) Norman Rockwell's Christmas Book, which has Christmas music and classic stories accompanied by Norman's iconic art.  I grew up with this book, and my favorite thing in it was always Ogden Nash's "The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus," a wonderfully weird poem about a kid named Jabez Dawes.  He, like me, did not believe in Santa Claus.  Unlike me, he got turned into a jack-in-the-box.  By Santa Claus.  Guess the jolly old elf got the last laugh.

3) And, finally, Christmas shopping.  Here I am at Kohl's on Black Friday with the Abominable Snow Monster from the claymation Rudolph.  It's a rare shot of me and an even rarer shot of the Yeti, but then big bargains call for big guns.

Merry Christmas!  Party hearty and avoid figgy pudding.

The Rainbow Collection . . .

Playful Parrots Necklace

Top: Alloy

Skirt: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Loop, Marshalls

Belt: Marshalls

Sunglasses: Cloud Nine, Ocean City

 Splashy Seahorses Necklace

Top: Decree,  JCPenney

Camisole: So, Kohl's

Skirt: H&M

Shoes: Nine West, DSW

Bag: Marshalls

Sunglasses: JCPenney

 High Hair and Heels Necklace

Top: So, Kohl's

Skirt: Modcloth

Shoes: Betseyville, JCPenney

Bag: Nine West, Boscov's

Belt: Wet Seal

Scarf: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: JCPenney

. . . is a title that I could assign to many a post, not to mention one that would do Kermie proud.  But it seems especially fitting for this week's ROYGBIV-banded trio.  Each necklace features charms purchased from Etsy seller Bohemian Findings, a shop as full of fun as its pun of a name promises.  And there's more where that came from!  As ever, I got a little carried away with supplies and have three more kawaii-tastic creations to unveil next week.

Getting back to the post name, I almost didn't use it for fear that I had, horror of horrors, used it before, rainbows and pop culture puns being spokes in my whimsical wheelhouse. Now that I've been blogging for years, I constantly fret about that sort of thing, having not once but twice likened myself to one of those dreaded repetitive relatives who corner you at birthday parties with rehashed stories of departed pets, conspiracy theories, and other relatives who've stolen their antique gold watches, seats on town council, and/or husbands.  Although I seem to be getting better at this whole Internet thing, that is, social networking and having the tech skills to maintain said networks, it sometimes still baffles me.  Which is just one of the reasons (watch out for the sneaky segue) that I can relate to Bridget Jones in Helen Fielding's latest installment, Mad About the Boy.

Set fourteen years after Bridget and Mark Darcy get together, the novel pits Bridget against all sorts of new sticky situations, one of which is navigating Twitter.  She struggles to upload pictures, gets blindsided by spambots, and obsesses over her followers only to amass a respectable number and then lose most of them by insulting, of all things, a bird, Twitter's beloved mascot.  (Being Bridget, she ends up garnering even more followers, many of whom log on just to read of her latest mishaps.)  It's very funny, and I'm enjoying it hugely, in no small part because it makes me feel like it's okay to be more lax about life.  And also to eat more cookies (case in point, I had four today).  That having been said, the head shot of Fielding on the back cover is sophisticated and glamorous, not at all the sort of woman who would seem to be at home writing about the joys of delousing one's children or eating grated cheese straight from the bag.  The lice bit really threw me for a loop.  I thought, if Bridget can find the fun in that scenario, then I can stop worrying that every backyard BBQ is going to end with a deadly mosquito bite.  (I could've inserted a lot of neuroses there but felt that it was important to stay consistent with insects.)  In this sense, the whole book is a non-preachy illustration of that saying, "life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, but about learning to dance in the rain."  I usually hate that one, especially when scrawled on some shabby chic plaque or embroidered on a don't-drool-on-me pillow.  But part of the reason I hate it is because I know it's true, just like I know Brussels sprouts are good for me even though I don't eat them.  Fielding makes the whole thing more palatable, serving it up with the proverbial spoonful of sugar, even at the darkest hour, say when Bridget enrolls in an obesity clinic or is forced by studio execs to turn her screenplay, which is a rewriting of Ibsen's feminist tragedy Hedda Gabler, into a comedy that takes place on a yacht.  (There's even worse stuff going on, but as a recovering spoiler, I'll refrain from going there.)  At first that part made me mad, as I didn't want "the Man" messing with Bridget's masterpiece.  But then I realized that the whole incident was a metaphor for Bridget herself and the way she turns even the bleakest of circumstances into something that is, at times, laugh-out-loud funny, emerging even stronger than she was before.  Studio exec-manipulated or not, that's more moving then some one-dimensional tearjerker, proving that laughter truly is the best medicine.

Maybe I should embroider that on a pillow, or better yet, glue it on a necklace (a really big necklace).    

Something New and Sparkly: Great Escapes

Fabulous Felt Ocean Necklace

Fabulous Felt Desert Necklace

Fabulous Felt Rain Forest Necklace

I'd wanted to make the Fabulous Felt Desert Necklace for some time. Don't ask me why; the idea just sort of called to me. I was so excited about its completion that I wore it to the mall yesterday as the piece de resistance of an otherwise cowgirl-esque ensemble. As for the ocean and rain forest necklaces, they just sort of came to me as logical complements to the desert. You may have noticed that I've taken to creating my felt neckpieces in themed trios; it's a weird little game I like to play, and I've come to thrive upon the challenge.

In other felt news, I recently purchased two storage boxes in which to house my felt; one for the full pieces, the other for the remnants. This bout of organization wasn't self-motivated, but spurred by the bf's comment that the lime green felt scraps (of which there are many, as I have a penchant for lime green) suggested that I'd killed Kermit the Frog. Seeing as he has a penchant for Kermie (you may recall that he assumed his likeness last Halloween), I figured I'd better hightail it to Target and get those boxes already. Which I did, only to realize that I have way more felt than I thought and probably should've sprung for at least three boxes. Such is the life of a craft supply hoarder.

Happy Halloween!

The bf likes Kermit. We were at my parents' house once when my mom was cleaning out the attic, and he got the biggest kick out of this tiny stuffed Kermit I had when I was a baby. (It sits on our living room bookshelf even as I type this.) So, I bought him one of those tiny gift books all about the beloved Muppet, appropriately called It Isn't Easy Being Green. (If you squint, you can see it crammed in the bf's pocket in the picture above.) All of this explains why, at 2:00 a.m. one night last week after enduring many false leads in the wily game that is costume hunting, I picked out Kermie and Miss Piggy. They went over pretty well at the costume party we went to last night. Even if I did let it slip out that I'd eaten ham for dinner.