Remembering Christmas Past

Old white cupboards, hand-crafted primitive signs, and Christmas socks. Fa la la la la....(Photo from Pinterest)

I am feeling very nostalgic this week thinking about Christmas. Slow to put up my decorations, I have spent too much time on Pinterest looking at holiday photos. I pin my favorites to my Christmas board and am amazed to discover that while my life has had many changes, my idea of what a Christmas house should look like, has remained the same. Pinterest has reminded me of this, where in years past, collecting photos I loved out of decorating magazines showed me what I loved.

The magazine photos (from Country Living, Country Home, Victoria, my choices years ago of favorite magazines, before so many new ones hit the market) and my Pinterest board tell me I still dream of a story-book Christmas, filled with children's toys, antique books, garden items, and Charlie Brown trees.

As a former antique dealer (I've removed that title 'antique dealer' from my list of accomplishments, labeling it 'former', but still put in bold letters - COLLECTOR RUN AMUCK.) I loved setting up for the Christmas extravaganza at the old Lakewood Antique Show at the fairgrounds south of downtown Atlanta. That show was the best and I was at my best during the few years I was a dealer there. My husband was still alive, my friends set up with me, I sold like crazy on Ebay so I could buy like crazy at the show. Selling was never the point of doing the show (this is why I wonder how I ever called myself an antique dealer in the first place) - the friendships and opportunity to spend Wednesday (my set-up day) to Sunday (when I skipped out early to avoid the rush at closing) in an environment I loved surrounded by every delight imaginable from old painted furniture, art, quilts, old toys, vintage garden items, antique books - and a food court, with its individual food trucks, preparing junk food at its finest, highlighted the reason for doing the show. In summer you could melt from the heat, in winter you could freeze your butt off. It didn't matter, it was the best of times. I wrote about Lakewood in The Unfaithful Widow. The transition from federal employee to antique dealer, sitting in the stinking hot summer air, listening to The Pina Colada Song on my cheap radio, was heaven to me.

The show I remember most, where I wanted to take my small booth home with me, was the last Christmas extravaganza before Lakewood closed its doors. I had searched for months, storing away my treasures, falling in love with my merchandize, until that Wednesday I loaded my van and my husband's van, and our tiny caravan to the Fairgrounds began.

The antique chipped red paint twin size iron bed was the main attraction. God, I loved that bed and wanted to keep it, but there was no room at the inn. Piled high with quilts it looked ready for a cold winters night. Three tall Christmas trees (purchased at Kroger, of all places) with metal bases, tall trunks leading up to funky green branches filled with white twinkling lights, sat on top of a green painted book shelf. Pitiful trees that defined a Charlie Brown tree to perfection. An 1800's Cottage Dresser, brown, with gold leaf scrolls and tiny roses on all the drawers, sat next to my red iron bed. The booth was filled with all my favorites - old painted chests, a rocking horse some Dad had made for his children, folk art angels, and shiny brite ornaments, some still in their vintage boxes.

My house took on the same feel at Christmas as it did when I was in the thick of being an antique dealer who didn't sell but played a good game of it.  You would think over the years my style would change, evolve, but it hasn't. I still love all the things I've always loved. Sometimes, something new catches my attention and I work it in, like old tinsel trees and vintage-style white trees. But the basis of my Christmas decorating still revolves around the magic of childhood.

I've dilly-dallied enough.  Today I will pull out my treasures and start to decorate. Check back for photo updates this week. In the meantime, enjoy the photos from Pinterest!

 

I have a collection of angels just like these! (Photo Pinterest)

 

 

 

 

Old shiny brites displayed on my favorite shade of blue primitive chair. I'll take that one please. (Photo Pinterest)

 

 

 

A simple table-top tree in an antique German base. (Photo Pinterest)

 

 

 

Antique toys make the very best decorations. (Photo Pinterest)

 

 

 

My love of all things garden related is evident every season! (Photo Pinterest)

Addicted to Jewelry

My latest fix - necklaces with old religious medals.

There. I've said it. I am addicted to jewelry.

Now I need to clarify that statement. Not expensive diamonds and gold, but artist made pieces that are full of imagination and spirit. Vintage jewelry with a history and patina. Junk jewelry I find at thrift stores. Mingle it all together and you have what I call 'my style'. You also have my drug of choice. Buying jewelry calms me down when I am stressed. It is also my main distraction when I am writing late at night and need a break. At 2AM you'll find me sneaking up to Etsy to find my latest fix.

It is a relief to me that I have narrowed it down to jewelry. I became an antique dealer because I was addicted to huge old painted cupboards. You can't just toss those on a tray on your vanity and walk away. Then it was art...then it was vintage clothes...I have downsized my craziness to fit in my pocket. You know, that pocket that has no money in it, but is filled with beautiful things I love.

When I wrote my memoir "The Unfaithful Widow" my jewelry choice then was vintage turquoise Native American pieces. I found it didn't matter what I wore, everyone noticed my jewelry. I layered it around my neck and up my arms. There were two rings on each hand. I felt 'interesting' during a time I felt so alone. Wearing turquoise jewelry eased the word 'widow' that had become a part of my vocabulary.

My very first - and actually only - book club signing - the gals all wore turquoise jewelry in my honor. I stepped into their warm surroundings, soup simmering on the stove, wine punch in a bowl, and felt at home. Several of the members came up to me waving their arms to show turquoise bracelets. "We loved your chapter on Turquoise jewelry." Then I took off my coat and realized I was wearing only silver. My turquoise was piled up on the dresser at home. My mood that day called for vintage Mexican silver.

It seems my mood dictates many choices for me.

My latest passion  - crosses, and lots of them, dangling on silver chains and surrounded by vintage rhinestone necklaces. I wear 'dead people' around my neck as I was reminded by a group I had dinner with a few weeks ago. My latest purchase from Etsy arrived. An assemblage necklace with an 1800s tintype photo of an old woman, hair pulled back in a stern bun, and dressed in black. It was in a small antique gold frame circled with tiny rhinestones. I was ecstatic it arrived in time for my dinner adventure.

"Is that a relative you have around your neck?" I looked up from my shrimp salad confused. She pointed to my necklace. "That old woman in the frame."

I smiled and looked at the group. "No, it's a dead person I don't know." I suppose I got a bit of joy out of the moment. The young gal that ushered me to my table had complimented my necklace only minutes before. "It's so cool." My dinner companions looked at me with peculiar expressions. End of conversation.

I plan to wear another 'instant relative' - the more politically correct phrase, dead person is a bit gauche, to dinner tonight.

Sometimes I leave the house and am naked of jewelry. That is always a buying situation ready to happen. I will walk into my favorite thrift store, check out the jewelry counter, find an odd little piece for under $3, reach up and feel the empty spot right below my throat, and point to the case.
"Can I look at that piece please?"

Most likely I will leave wearing it.

A bit of a game, but easy-peasy, and inexpensive at best.

My choices are simply what I love at any given time. Not to impress, not to shock, but to feel good when I pull myself together. I love art in any form, and the pieces I buy now are one-of-a-kind visions of artists who love old things as much as I do. Or used bits and parts I may fashion into something.

I've made jewelry before and sold it in our Botanical Gardens gift shop. My back room is full of oddities ready for me to pick up and design again. Perhaps after the first of the year I will. It may be time to lighten my jewelry load! Right now I am too busy writing. I only have time to shop online at night.

In celebration of my upcoming release, "Danger In Her Words" I will offer a raffle of a naughty or nice piece of jewelry. Details are coming.

Some of my recent purchases below. Are you addicted to jewelry? If so, share your comments below and be entered in my give-a-way.

 

Jewelry Give-A-Way - Read On

 Purchased from Etsy to be included in jewelry give-a-way!

Did I get your attention? I hope so, because I have fun news to share.  I'll be giving away jewelry on this blog in a few weeks. Read to the bottom and see how you can enter in a pre-publication drawing by commenting here now.

My romantic girly thriller will launch the end of the month. I'll be posting more information here and on Facebook about some fun give-a-ways to celebrate my first fiction book. So follow me if you'd like to join in.

The queen  (I've crowned myself queen since no one else has) of memoir writing is writing fiction. This has been such an interesting and fun time for me. I've read that many fiction characters hold traits of the author, and that may appear to be so in my romantic thriller. But baring my soul is nothing new to me.

If you read my memoir The Unfaithful Widow, or any of my blog posts on other sites, you know I don't hold back. I share everything. My favorite remark from a much older friend of mine after she finished my widow book..."I was just shocked at one thing."   I held my breath, ready to turn a bright red if she picked up on a few of my dates. "I can't believe you only own one bra!"

Yes, I confess, in 2009 I only had one. I've corrected that. It is terrible when you only have one bra, and one of your six dogs has made it his. I found my bra tucked in Bray's teeth and paws as I was trying to get dressed for work. That excuse for being late to work was quite embarrassing!

But writing fiction, it's a dream! I can twist and turn and have fantasies galore that hopefully will be fun for everyone.  I love my characters, they have become my friends as I sit late at night, my pack of dogs by my side, and plan their fates.

I don't always get the final say with them, however. Susan and Jamie have thoughts of their own, and are not shy in pulling me in a different direction. I let them. It is, after all, their story.
 
It is an amazing experience. So much different than non-fiction memoir, where I stick to the truth, the whole truth, so help me...well, almost always.

I am in the editing stages now. Soon... my book (title to be announced) will be available on Amazon and Kindle. And you might win a fabulous necklace for the holidays.

Have you been naughty or nice? I hope you'll share your story with me too! Leave a comment below and enter in a pre-publication drawing!

 Purchased from Etsy to be included in my jewelry give-a-way.

Birthday Week Ends At Steppenwolf Concert

 

My friend Dianne with me at the concert!

 

 

 

The Banger Sisters!  There I've said it. I promised Dianne not to call us that at the concert - but I love that title, so I am using it here. I also loved the movie when it was released in  2002.

 

 

 

 'The Banger Sisters' 2002 Movie

 

 

Turning sixty-five was nothing compared to turning sixty. Yes, I am older, but wiser, and settled into my life and loving it. At sixty I had been a widow for three months and just started on my journey to find my new life.

 

For my sixtieth birthday I bought a vintage corvette to help me along the road of discovery. I rarely drove it because I needed my van to haul antiques to my shop.  I made the car a character in my book The Unfaithful Widow.

 

 

 

 

I got more mileage out of the car sitting in my driveway than most did on the road. It made me feel alive to just to look at it and on days when I was blue, I could crank it up, listen to the motor hum, and smile at the universe. When my sixteen year old foreign exchange student came to stay with me for five months last year she, and her teen friends, looked at the car in awe. She called me 'mum'. My good friend said she should call me 'grand mum'. I mentioned that one night over dinner when she talked about calling me 'mum' in front of her friends. I will always laugh when I think about one boy's reply. "You can't be a grand mother with a car like that in your drive way!" Amen to that. My Vette finally found a new home this year with a young handyman who traded work for the car. My house got a facelift and the car went where it belonged. To someone who would give it a life I never did!

 

 

 

 

Now, on to the Banger Sisters! My friend met Steppenwolf some forty-years ago and told me about the concert. She wanted to go and I thought, why not? I love music, especially today's music, but back in my early years I was not a rock fan. I do remember Born To Be Wild, and loved it. And the concert was a biker and beer charity event. My cool factor was up even though the heat was on.

"We need to do something about your make-up," my younger friend kidded me. "And you might need to wear a sexy top or something."

I giggled. And then The Banger Sisters movie popped into my brain. She was the hip one who remembered the early years of John Kay and I was the older one who needed a refresher course on the bands. My redo included my hat. I knew my make-up would melt at the outdoor concert - but I didn't want my brain to fry.

We bought the V.I.P. tickets and sat next to the stage. The tickets came with a reward - a quick meet and greet with Steppenwolf. My friend got a hug from the band members in the thirty-seconds we had with them!

An incredible way to end a week of birthday celebrations. It was a great birthday shared with my best friends, all week long! The grand finale got me out of my comfort zone (I am not an outdoor concert gal) and I glowed with sweat until I sparkled with joy!

Concert memories!

Meet and Greet with Steppenwolf

Steppenwolf

 

 

 

 

 

Music before the concert in parking lot.

 

 

 

 

Mother's Finest

 

 

 

 

Concert Ad

 

 

 

 

 

 

An Invitation To What????

At the end of the day - it was only an invitation - not a sign from the universe I was ready to go, but a reminder of what I needed to do.



 

       I haven't even had THE BIRTHDAY yet - it is next week - you know, the really, really big one - but the universe is having fun with me I do believe. I'm listening and laughing back.

      If you know me, you know I poke at everything, even serious things. I've found humor and laughter have a way of smoothing over the rough spots. A broken heart can feel the tug of a smile. And I follow that old adage,  laughter is the best medicine. Even dark humor has a healing power, perhaps the best of all healing. Surrounded by sadness if you can make an off the wall joke a ray of light shines in all the murk.

     My caveat for humor, is it is always at my expense, not at another person. I don't make fun of others but I sure do make fun of myself. You are cordially invited to laugh with me as I do this!

    My last BIG birthday, and I categorize big birthdays as stepping stones to the years that make us reflect on life because we are crossing a threshold we've joked about, was my sixtieth. Three months before I hit that milestone, my husband died. So I met age sixty with my widow crown.  I wrote my book on that first year alone - The Unfaithful Widow - a memoir doing all those things I never thought I'd do again. My book, and my adventures that year, were my therapy. I had a choice to let the darkness take over or to find the dark humor in my situation and write my way back to a life of my own. Some days I look at my book, which I self-published in 2010, and think how quirky it is. I sounded like the little engine that could.... I think I can, I think I can. And I did.

     So next week is the big date, my sixty-fifth looms at me.  Three small, minuscule, hardly worth mentioning things happened this week. Three pokes from the universe that tickled my funny bone, and if my funny bone gets tickled, I share.

     1. My primary care physician fired me. I showed up for a routine exam, anxious to try out my new Medicare card, which was effective August lst. Friends of mine, who retired from the same federal agency I retired from, reassured me it was wonderful to have Medicare, especially with my outstanding federal insurance policy as a secondary insurance. My doctor's office - the doctor I really have never liked because when I visit her I leave feeling old, fat, and crazy (that's a story for another time) - informed me they do not take Medicare assignment, I would have to pay up front and be reimbursed by my insurance company.  A life-event about to happen.

     My reply, thinking I stood on firm ground with my excellent insurance coverage, "Then I'll have to find another doctor." I think my chest puffed out about that time, thinking I had the upper hand. A stern nurse looked at me and said "You're fired." Well, not in so many words, but a rule is a rule, and I was booted.  The good news, the universe did what I hadn't been able to do. Make me look for a doctor I might like. 

    2. Later that same afternoon I got my daily snail-mail. A lovely envelope with pale green trees in the background was saved for last. A few bills, a ton of advertisements for Medicare supplements, and then what looked to be an invitation. I was excited to open it and hoped it would be an event I would love to attend.

      "Plan now for your cremation."

      Not what I was expecting but maybe a wake up call?

      Okay. I think that sums up the quality of heath care I might be facing with my new Medicare card if I don't find the right doctor. Yes, universe, I get the message, I will find my new doctor today.

    3. The same batch of mail included an envelope addressed to my late husband. It was stamped boldly on the front, Get out of your time share forever.

      I wanted to call them and ask, "Does this mean I get him back?"


Enjoy your day and remember to laugh! I plan to.