Blog Spree

I am getting this week’s post in just under the wire. Blogging once on Sundays during Lent calls for one big “post binge”, wouldn’t you say? So here we go…

This was the scene around my house on this gorgeous Sunday afternoon.

While Clark and the kids were doing this….

I took the opportunity to whip up a quick project. Granted, after completing the community board for Center City Church, I didn’t want to look at another wine cork for weeks. But, the creativity bug, she did bite this weekend and, well, here you have it.

Wine cork magnets!! An exacto-knife, some wicked-strong glue and a magnet from your local hardware store and voila! I have some parties coming up, and I plan to send out invitations with these wine cork magnets. That way guests can keep the invite on their fridge and look forward to the upcoming event for weeks to come!

Crafty? Cheesy? You decide.

I ventured out to a local fabric warehouse this weekend just outside of Charlotte. I sent this pic to Clark via text with the caption, “I’m in heaven”.

I couldn’t even begin to look at all that Mary Jo’s fabrics had to offer. This is just one row of dozens in their upholstery department alone. I pulled a few samples, so just for fun, what do you say we play a round of “Which swatch would you pick?”

First, the dining room chairs.

Go on. You can say it. They’re hideous. Drab, sad, uninspiring, spiritless… feel free to insert your own descriptive here. I inherited them from my mother when Clark and I got our first apartment. While I am enormously grateful for free furniture, these cushions are about 15 years overdue for a re-cover.

Would you choose the bold, colorful, geometric pattern or the clean, timeless, and more “grown up” solid pear shade?

Wait, there’s more…

We’ve been living with these swatches against our celery sprig walls for the last couple of days. Don’t get me wrong. I like my neighbors, but the view from my kitchen looks directly into theirs. While I’ve thoroughly enjoyed admiring her fresh flowers and her new dish towels, this is taking neighborly affection a tad bit too far, don’t you think? Hence, the cafe curtains. I’m pretty sure we’ve decided which pattern we like, but I am curious to know which one you would pick.

And of course, I’ve saved the best for last. What is a blog post from me without a good laugh at my own expense? Salem and I were a couple of groupies while Clark played in the band for his dad’s surprise 60th birthday bash in Mississippi last weekend. As you well know, Salem is my little Steve Jordan– he can turn just about anything into a drum. Table tops, trees, bushes, his sister…. but this, I must admit, is rather innovative even for a toddler. Watch closely. You won’t want to miss his crash hits.

Kid’s got talent. Interesting choice of percussive double, but, that’s boys for you. Its all fun and games until mom subs as a crash cymbal.

Until next weekend, I leave you with some interesting web finds:

Everything Important About London

Fun with coffee filters

Yet another way to wear a scarf

Now that’s what I call multi-tasking


Tenth Avenue North

Hello my lovely readers! I missed you yesterday.

I could not be a more proud mama! Clark and I took Salem to his very first concert on Wednesday night. This is a HUGE deal considering my son thinks he is the next Steve Jordan. He drums on everything and with everything. Un-sharpened pencils, straws, sticks, and crayons on overturned pots, buckets, boxes– you name it. It does pose a challenge when you’re trying to teach your 18 month old to use a fork and he assumes you’re only encouraging his musical talent. He practiced all day to his favorite Eric Clapton DVD, and Wednesday night, I made sure he was equipped with what every 2-year-old concert goer needs– a black leather bomber jacket, some hair gel and a pair of chopsticks. Off we went to experience his very first concert. Bonus…. these were guys that I sang with way back in the day, so we were able to visit with them prior to the show. Salem waltzed onto that tour bus like he was born in a Prevost. I swear, my toddler suddenly aged ten years. He looked every one of those messy haired, graphic T-d, skinny jeaned musicians in the eye like he was about to ask them for the set list and for some bottled water at room temp. When Jason, the drummer, pulled out his drumsticks and gave them to Salem, he looked at me like, “finally, someone who recognizes my potential.” Needless to say, I ended up holding the chopsticks all night. We chose our seats especially so that the drums were in our line of site. With sticks poised and ready at all times, Salem kept his eyes glued to Jason. No matter if it was a more mellow tune, Salem drummed as hard and as fast as he could on the seat back in front of him which inevitably got a few stares from people around us. But no matter– he played the beat until he couldn’t take it anymore and he crashed dead asleep on his daddy’s chest. I dare say, I’ve never enjoyed a more inspiring musical experience.