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.