Recently in Beauty Category

The blog silence betwixt this post and this post was due to a vacation. Not mine, but the children's. They went off to Puerto Rico for two weeks with a pair of grandparents and H and I were left to our own devices. It was the longest we've been without children since D came along fourteen years ago.

An outsider might think we had ourselves a second Honeymoon...but they'd be wrong. This ship is set up for a crew of four and the absence of two left the First Mate (that's me) exhausted trying to keep this ship afloat. Thank goodness for a Captain who helped pick up the slack. So, while I did suffer a tinge of Empty Nest Syndrome, I was frankly too tired most of the time to pay it any mind.

While I was working like a pack mule, my girl got a chance to put her Christmas gift to use and came back with some lovely photos - if I do say so myself. These are three of my favorites:

Some more of D's photos are over at Flickr. As for the children, they're now home safe and sound and I'm nearly recovered from their vacation.

I've always wanted a Hobbit home. I think it has something to do with the round doors. I prefer round things, curvy things. They meander gently, without the sharpness of angles.

Knowing my fondness, my daughter made me a tiny Hobbit hill with a minusucle Hobbit house.

Isn't that so sweet? I'll completely overlook the fact that she made this whilst she was supposed to be engrossed in schoolwork. Ahem.

Really, though, who can be mad at her for long? She is such a sweet lass. And her left eyebrow always rises when she laughs. Just like her father.

He has very curly hair and promised she would too. He swore she'd have a head full of delicious baby curls.

Imagine my surprise when the midwife handed me a nearly-bald baby girl. But my husband promised me...and I've been bringing that up for fourteen years. 

Yet, the poor child still had nothing but straight hair.

Then, suddenly, these springy spirals came from nowhere. I still can't believe it and I can't stop making them go boing-boing.

What an obnoxious mother I am!

But, honestly, could you restrain yourself around such angelic ringlets?

It took quite a while, but my husband did indeed keep his promise and gave me a beautiful, curly-tressed daughter.

But I supplied the freckles.

My recent entryway project inspired a 5-minute makeover over on my desktop, which faces the Jane Austen mirror.

I dusted.

I moved things around.

I also changed the cardstock behind my token collection from white to light blue.

This is one of my favorite collections around the house. Each transit token and the Hobo nickel were purchased about 15 years ago at a flea market. The Ts are for Tampa, Florida. The R and S are for Rochester, New York.

Transit tokens and Hobo nickels, categorized as Exonumia, are an interesting and unique art form. I wonder why more people are not collecting them. I've always collected coins, mostly foreign, and my little collection seen here is just another facet of my interest in the beauty of circular bits of metal. 

I think my bluebird looks quite fetching next to the token collection.

Prior to the unfortunate theft and vandalization of our property, I decided to give the entryway mirror a little makeover.

This mirror was gained at a yard sale - way back in 2006. Can you believe it was free? The seller had broken one of the side mirrors. Each side panel is about 8 1/2 x 11, so the whole thing is rather large. It hung in my son's room for a long time, but he never really used it. Turns out boys aren't as into mirrors as girls are. Go figure.

So, I kind of stole it from him.

But, look, the size and shape is perfect for that entryway wall.

Convinced? Okay, back to the mirror makeover.

I decided to print out a picture of Jane Austen for the left panel. My shamelessly purloined version of Dear Jane is, I believe, the 1879 engraving which was based on Cassandra's drawing.

For the right panel, I chose one of Miss Austen's witty quotations, printing it out with a downloaded Jane Austen font.

"Pictures of Perfection make me Sick and Wicked."

When we return to our normal balmy weather, I think I might use this instead:

"What dreadful hot weather we have! It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance."

The portrait and quotation are printed on turquoise paper and I have placed three turquoise glass votives from Big Lots betwixt the two panels.

So, what do you think? Would Dear Jane approve?

***More lovely transformations are linked at Between Naps on the Porch for each Metamorphosis Monday.***

I hate to keep special items buried in boxes in the attic. Precious mementos should be enjoyed, not forced into servitude as long-forgotten clutter.

This philosophy is how I ended up hanging my silver baby spoon on the kitchen wall.

This is truly the most-viewed corner in the house and now I can see my baby spoon everyday without it taking up valuable storage space.

Oh, look, another Mail Call post. I must be working on that correspondence flaw of mine. Brandy, of Minivan Life, kindly noticed my lamp and vintage plate recently.

So pretty! I LOVE turquoise. Love the blue plate and that lamp... is it vintage?

Dear Brandy,

Thank you for the compliment and that you took the time to comment gives me twice the joy.

I picked the plate up from a local consignment shop. It was still in the lovely blue original box. The enclosed Avon note card reads, "1974 Avon Commemorative Plate for achievement in campaigns 1,2, and 3." This plate begged to be bought and I obliged since it was only $6. I like that the plate has blues and greens and is crowned with daisies. Best of all, it shows a mother with two children and the older child is a girl. This fits my situation perfectly. We really did sit amongst wildflowers while my daughter was little and I held her baby brother. Give me a coincidence like that and even I can overlook the hair and dress of the Seventies.

The lamp was absolutely free and spared from my neighbor's garbage. She brought it over one night, knowing that I might like that it was blue. The base is encircled by Roman numerals, as though it were a sundial. I removed the fairy swinging betwixt the lamp arms; not even I can allow for such an amount of whimsy. 

I removed the Christmas tree bows since this photo, as it is no longer winter. (I know many still have snow, but I'm naming it and claiming it.) Sorry, no bowless photo at this time.

Blessings,

Mrs. Happy Housewife

Last Friday, I ended up at the local Target with my daughter and my Father-in-Law. Not a normal shopping experience for me, but FIL needed to buy a baby shower gift and daughter and I were along to help. Daughter and I basically picked the whole purchase out, but we didn't mind. We even had a bit of fun.

Anyway, as FIL was getting his bearings, I flitted like a nesting bird with ADD over to the Dollar section. Is there shiny? What is that pretty thing over there?

I spotted something, loved it, put it in my basket, and then took it out again. With the temorary mental powers of Einstein, I realized that this item must come home with me - for the betterment of mankind.

So, what was it?

This.

Isn't it lovely? Yes, I bought four TV trays and I am just a wee bit in love with them. I might even be planning an elopement soon.

Sturdy with a nice lip around the edge and only $2.50 each.

We watch a lot of TV together in the Family Room while we eat (oh, shame upon me) and these are very helpful.

They remind of school trays, but so much better. If my school trays had looked like these, I might not have minded the mystery meat so much.

This weekend, H went after his Honey-do list with a passion and one item he marked off the list was hanging some items above my sewing desk in the Family Room.

I know it's a bit late in the season to think of snowmen, but I wanted to show you this adorable miniature that D made for me. He's only 1 3/4 inches tall!

I asked her to make him look like a traditional snowman and she did. However, this little guy is made of polymer clay and toothpicks and he's been baked in the oven so I can keep him forever. No melting in the sun for this snowman. 

As we study the Medieval Age this term, D is reading and discussing with me Thomas Cahill's "How the Irish Saved Civilization". Yesterday, she came upon a very interesting quotation from mystery and fantasy author and Christian apologist G. K. Chesterton:

For the great Gaels of Ireland
Are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry,
And all their songs are sad.

Isn't that so accurate? I have yet to meet an Irishman who didn't love a good fight, a melancholy song,..and a strong drink. I think many would agree with Chesterton.

The quotation comes from Chesterton's "The Ballad of the White Horse," a narrative poem published in 1911 about King Alfred the Great's defeat of the Danes in England.

Chesterton explains the ballad in his Prefatory Note:

This ballad needs no historical notes, for the simple reason that it does not profess to be historical. All of it that is not frankly fictitious, as in any prose romance about the past, is meant to emphasize tradition rather than history. King Alfred is not a legend in the sense that King Arthur may be a legend; that is, in the sense that he may possibly be a lie. But King Alfred is a legend in this broader and more human sense, that the legends are the most important things about him.

The cult of Alfred was a popular cult, from the darkness of the ninth century to the deepening twilight of the twentieth. It is wholly as a popular legend that I deal with him here. I write as one ignorant of everything, except that I have found the legend of a King of Wessex still alive in the land. I will give three curt cases of what I mean. A tradition connects the ultimate victory of Alfred with the valley in Berkshire called the Vale of the White Horse. I have seen doubts of the tradition, which may be valid doubts. I do not know when or where the story started; it is enough that it started somewhere and ended with me; for I only seek to write upon a hearsay, as the old balladists did. For the second case, there is a popular tale that Alfred played the harp and sang in the Danish camp; I select it because it is a popular tale, at whatever time it arose. For the third case, there is a popular tale that Alfred came in contact with a woman and cakes; I select it because it is a popular tale, because it is a vulgar one. It has been disputed by grave historians, who were, I think, a little too grave to be good judges of it. The two chief charges against the story are that it was first recorded long after Alfred¹s death, and that (as Mr. Oman urges) Alfred never really wandered all alone without any thanes or soldiers. Both these objections might possibly be met. It has taken us nearly as long to learn the whole truth about Byron, and perhaps longer to learn the whole truth about Pepys, than elapsed between Alfred and the first writing of such tales. And as for the other objection, do the historians really think that Alfred after Wilton, or Napoleon after Leipsic, never walked about in a wood by himself for the matter of an hour or two? Ten minutes might be made sufficient for the essence of the story. But I am not concerned to prove the truth of these popular traditions. It is enough for me to maintain two things: that they are popular traditions; and that without these popular traditions we should have bothered about Alfred about as much as we bother about Eadwig.

One other consideration needs a note. Alfred has come down to us in the best way (that is, by national legends) solely for the same reason as Arthur and Roland and the other giants of that darkness, because he fought for the Christian civilization against the heathen nihilism. But since this work was really done by generation after generation, by the Romans before they withdrew, and by the Britons while they remained, I have summarised this first crusade in a triple symbol, and given to a fictitious Roman, Celt, and Saxon, a part in the glory of Ethandune. I fancy that in fact Alfred¹s Wessex was of very mixed bloods; but in any case, it is the chief value of legend to mix up the centuries while preserving the sentiment; to see all ages in a sort of splendid foreshortening. That is the use of tradition: it telescopes history.

G.K.C.

You can read the entire ballad online. You can view the actual White Horse in Uffington, England.

An aerial view of the 374 foot White Horse. 

It is an amazing Bronze Age landmark that was, sadly, unbeknownst to me.

Just another discovery made on a homeschooling rabbit trail.