Surrounded by nothing and yet everything fabulous, I celebrate my 27th birthday today. I had been feeling a little sorry for myself because I'm the only member of my immediate family celebrating a birthday in our rental. While Axel and Jahred both enjoyed their parties in our circa 1924 bungalow, it was not to be for me.

Although up until today I insisted that this birthday would be a terrible reminder of everything I am missing this year, it was just the opposite.

I have been dreaming of a greenhouse in our next back yard; somewhere I can admire beautiful things all year long.  Yesterday, to my surprise, Jahred transformed the balcony into just that. He built a lovely portable greenhouse of his own design.  There is room for a heating device, a grow light, plenty of plants and if I am really desperate, yes, I fit.  In our next home, it will become my seed starting shelter, but for now, it's more of a home than the other shared walls, used carpet and elephants that live upstairs.

In the company of my new tropical paradise I opened presents with family today.  Axel was pleased to blow out my candle, and although this year has been more "bitter sweet" than "sweet sixteen", I may just survive to see 28.

Thanks to my family for surprises and simplicity, just the way I like it.

Ok, really, this greenhouse rocks.  I wish you all could see it in person.

I less than a week I'll be blowing out candles once again.  I may just have to stick my candles in ice cream since I happen to be without an oven (lovely appliances they have in this rental), but none-the-less I will be celebrating.

Because I am on the downward slope to Jahred graduating and moving into our next home, it's time to clear out the stocks.  I have added lots of new items from my collection to the Etsy shop.  Antique items, yarn scrap packs, you name it, I'm ready to part with it.

In honor of my own B-day, I'm offering the following deals:
** ALL ORDERS over $27 (not including shipping) will be refunded 20%.
** ALL PDF SEWING PATTERNS are BOGO (buy one get one free...let me know at checkout 
      which one you would like GRATIS)!
** ALL DE-STASH items are 50% off (priced as marked).

Take advantage!  Sale ends at midnight, July 25th!  Supplies limited as everything is OOAK.

Questioning faith is a life long journey for me.  I'm always looking for signs.  I have a questioning mind being trained as a scientist, and the questioning actually helps my faith grow.

In the last 2 years, license plates have been my signs.  In 2008, the month our checking account hit $0.63, the year we had a new baby and Jahred returned to school, Mankato's license plates from the DMV were printed with S-E-W.  "SEW 546" ; "SEW 081"; apparently the plates are printed alphabetically and somewhat by geographic location.  Nearly half the cars in Mankato had/still have "SEW - - -" license plates.  When I started seeing them, it occurred to me instantly that this was my sign, a way to remedy our finances.  "Sew" I did, and my Etsy shop began to grow. Sewing paid the bills, sustained our family and fulfilled my inner need to provide.  SEW may have been a random license plate assignment to some, but for me it was an answer.

Today, on our way home from the mall, I was questioning myself again, what? how? why?.  My answer was delivered at 55 mph, I was following a Chevy with the license plate "4 PAPA" (insert goose bumps here).  To my even further shock, the truck was red, Papas favorite color.  I NEVER carry a camera with me, but happened to have one in my purse this morning.  I snuck it out of my bag and yes, I took a picture while driving.  Having proof of a "pinch me moment" is worth the temporary risk of a moving violation.

Who is in charge at the DMV after all?  Or maybe I'm just in the right place at the right time.

Even stranger is the Arby's sign in this picture.  Thanks to Papa, we had a steady flow of "Beef 'n Cheddars" growing up.  Arby's will always be a special treat, and as Papa would say, they have the best coupons.

A girl has to fake a few things to get through life; and I have been faking my breakfast habits for a long time now.  Even my husband is completely blind to my inner cereal desires. The truth is, although I can put on a pretty face and choke down a bowl of granola with yogurt on top, what I really prefer is a larger than life helping of marshmallow cereal.  Preferably Lucky Charms, Marshmallow Mattees...really anything that turns the milk a funky shade of greenish pink.  I subconsciously eat the oats first and save the goods for last.  With each heaping spoonful of only mallows, I am already dreaming of my next bowl.

While shopping the co-op yesterday, I suddenly stumbled into my cereal Nirvana.  To my surprise, some respectable adult like myself developed an all-natural marshmallow cereal?!  Was it that hard to just swallow your pride Mr. Organic Companies and create the cereal that we all secretly desire? $3.79 was all this large box cost.  In the last 24 hours, 2.5 of my meals have consisted of "Mallow-Oats".  It is seriously yummy!

Another confession to faking it comes down to fashion.  When the 80's style started to make a comeback, I began dreaming of neon sunglasses, checkers and big hair.  Maintaining my "JCrew" style, I have compromised with myself and last week I bought a neon yellow sports bra. It is satisfying on 2 levels: the teens won't be able to mock me for being the mom who thinks she's a kid again, yet on the inside I know that I've still "got it".

This week, you all have my permission to fake or not to fake.  It isn't easy to turn a fake into reality, but sometimes you can meet it half way.

Here is the link to the Storque article on my sofa.

CLICK HERE
Check out the other "How Tuesdays" as well.

Thanks to a wonderful Etsy column titled "How Tuesday", I will be featured as the resident "expert" (term used loosely) on furniture upholstery.

On October 6th (a Tuesday of course), the feature will be up with a link to my tutorial on "Emergency Upholstery Techniques"...how to not throw up when you look at your hand-me-down furniture.

Below is the sofa I have remodeled for the project.  I had hoped to post the tutorial this evening...but seeing as it's already 11pm and the wake up call comes at 5am...I will be posting it on Sunday night for a sneak preview to my loyal blog readers.  Tuesday of course, the web waves will be filled with Etsy hopefuls looking to upscale their living room.

Yes, friends, the photos below are of the same sofa.  Stay tuned for details . . . . 

Last week, I was sucked into the vacuum that goes by the name of "Thrift Store".  This particular store is NEW to Mankato and carries only furniture.

Is it just me, or every time you are about to start something new, do you for a brief moment think you will be the best at it in the world? Upholstery was my task last week and although I don't claim to have dominated the sport, I did learn a valuable lesson...you have to be the life of your own party.

Bringing a $10 (on sale from $35) davenport home from the thrift store is something of fairy tales...finding fabric I LOVE on clearance leaves me speechless...having my husband simply sigh at the many adventures of the right side of my brain is...typical.

Amidst a household of doubt, I started the week by tearing off vomit colored, plastic-like upholstery and found a beautiful diamond in the rough piece of furniture.  Not only is this sweet little LoveSeat an antique, it is also a hide-a-bed.

Spending countless hours dreaming, shopping and collecting the perfect pieces of textile for my great find, yesterday I started the process of putting it back together.

Rockin' out to some of my favorite music, I slowly decided that this couch was just for me.  Being my first larger upholstery installation, I figure no one could enjoy it as much as myself...the one who tore it limb from limb, tenderly preserved the old batting and placed many stitches by hand.  Each staple, stretch and fold was made by my fingers after dark; all while picturing the great literature I could enjoy atop it's cushion.  Perhaps I will share Narnia with Axel on this very seat.

Upholstery can be emotional...or was that the Sheryl Crow?  Late last night I hammered my last nail and received a not-so-enthusiastic "great" from Jahred.  I received a fabric critique from my mother and when I asked Jahred to help me move it upstairs, so I could clean up the staples that had missed the mark, he appeared annoyed and said, "when I'm done".  Well, thats when I figured that celebrating yourself may be the only celebration you get.

It lost a little of it's magic upon seeing it in the daylight this morning, but I still believe it's more than "great".  In the future, you can find me on my davenport...it is uniquely mine and I shall use it as a reminder to sit down and give myself a break.

As I cleaned up the kitchen this evening, I saw Jahred looking at my handy-work and then take a seat.  In his own time, he always approves.

Just passing another anniversary of our wedding, I often think about the big day. Historical buildings, a trolley, flowers keeling over on the eve of the wedding (in a "fridge" that was actually a "freezer"), guests taking someone else's date home for the night...but really, I often think about these people (see photos below).

One of the "blessings" of hosting your wedding at a landmark (Landmark Center, Saint Paul, MN) is that it stays open to the public.

Apparently, some time after the tables were set (complete with scattered disposable cameras), a few tourists wandered in.  This lovely family has been saved on my hard drive for all these years and they are the only wedding guests I cannot identify.  Scrolling through pictures just last night, I realized that I have a captive audience who could help me identify them.

If you have seen these faces around town, or out of town for that matter...I should properly thank them for playing a role in my wedding; and see how the kids are doing.  It's not the material gifts that count at a nuptial event, it's simple showing up and giving your support.  (I can tell these people were supportive by the thumbs up in exhibit 4.)

Not only was this a lovely surprise when I developed the film (yes, in those days film was processed manually), they have given me an idea should I ever come across a stray disposable.

I have long claimed that Facebook is just people shoving themselves down your throat.  I, just yesterday however, silenced my own bitching by deleting my Facebook page.

I'm sorry if it seems old fashioned, but I think "social networking" is only important with the people you can call, any time, day or night. And more importantly, the people who truly love you.

I honestly can't come up with a good excuse of why my page lasted as long as it did.  I rarely updated, was irritated when people would try to chat online and was even pissed off when true friends would use the page to send me a message.  I have made it pretty clear to all those important to me that I don't communicate with loved ones online, but it's hard to enforce when you leave the avenue open.

Feeling a sense of liberation over the past 48 hours, I have received several messages from Facebook saying "there's still time to save your profile...simply log in within the next 14 days and you can regain your account information and your friend list."  

To Facebook I say, "NO THANK YOU".  I will not be turning back.

Also, as of this week, Jahred and I will be canceling one of our cell phones and we will be sharing a line.  I have to say I'm excited to be saving the $50 per month and I hope it will create a deeper sense of family.  I always thought it was strange that when people wanted to get a hold of us they would have to pick which one.  Call me crazy, but it's rather insulting.  Perhaps if America went back to the 1 phone per household, marriages may not have so many secrets.

For those of you that are on my real "friend list", you don't need to send a secret request for me to "ignore" or "confirm", you don't need to state how we know each other, and we may not have any "mutual friends" but you know how you can reach me, and you know I'm always here.  If for some reason you get Jahred, don't fret, I'm probably reading, hugging a tree or knitting...because you know what I'm NOT doing (hint: facebook).

Sometimes the best sort of liberation, is the kind you give yourself.

I have a tiny face.  It's true, the actual diameter of my face is about the same as Axels.  When my body is at average weight, my face looks petite...if I gain so much as a pound, my face appears miniscule.

The reason I bring this up is because it's the reason behind my mothers constant ragging on the size of my sunglasses.  She is always saying how large my glasses are...but truthfully mother; I get them from the "average - just above child sized glasses - section".  I AM AWARE of what the trendy HUGE glasses would do to my face!

Anyhow, today we, the dog, Axel and I, were strolling to the post office after nearly an entire day of zero adult conversation and lots of thoughts in my head.  At the moment we reached the summit of the large hill on our walk, my sweaty nose got me thinking; "does the combination of my sweaty nose, tiny face and large sunglasses mean I could lick my sunglasses?"  

Seriously, if you feel the need to commit me after that last sentence, be my guest.  Cooked meals and a padded room sound glorious about now.

Anyhow, one can't just think thoughts like this without acting on them, so of course I tried to lick my glasses.  I did not succeed.

My friends, I did not stop there.  I slowly inched my glasses down the slope of my nose until at last I could lick them.  I would have enjoyed a sick sense of satisfaction if it weren't for the porch full of people to my right, whom I didn't notice until after the above crime was committed.

How crazy I must have looked to them.  In the time since my walk, I have contemplated taking a picture of myself in the licking position just so you all could enjoy the scene the rest of Mankato had today, but I thought I would "google" an image instead.

Let it be known, that of the billions of images on "images.google.com", there is NOT ONE of a person licking their sunglasses.  I stand alone.