Ridiculously Exciting Kicks on Route 66

After being cooped up in the house with colds, Sugar Pea and I were ready for some fresh air yesterday, so we hit the open road bound for one of my favorite local attractions, Totem Pole Park. We hadn't been since she was a tiny baby, and I was eager to take her now that she could appreciate the excursion. It was a perfect late summer Oklahoma day, just right for driving with the windows down and the bluegrass turned up loud. When we arrived, I was a bit surprised to see that the largest structure was being repainted.

The initial restoration, done by the Kansas Grassroots Art Association over a seven year period, was begun in the early 90s. Therefore, some parts of the structure haven't been touched up in nearly twenty years. I struck up a conversation with a lovely lady perched on a ladder, paintbrush in hand. It seems that Ginny was chosen to spearhead the latest restoration of the park, but was coming up short in the volunteer department. Without a moment's hesitation, I asked if she could use my help. Secretly, I expected her to politely decline my offer. I thought her answer would be something along the lines of, "Thank you, but we only allow professionally trained artists and conservationists to touch brush to cement in this most holy of holy Folk Art Environments." To my great surprise, her face lit up and she asked me if I lived in the area. I said I most certainly did and that it would be my absolute pleasure and a great honor to play a small part in the conservation of this national treasure. And, just like that, my day took a turn I would never have predicted in a million and four years. I'm going to get to paint Totem Pole Park!


Ginny's been working from the ground up, so the giant bird and tortoise that form the base of the totem pole are sporting freshly pedicured toes.


Inside the Fiddle House was one of Mr. Galloway's beautiful fiddles that had not been on display the last time I visited. Many of his fiddles and other works of art were stolen or otherwise lost after his death, but some are slowly being returned to where they belong. I can hardly believe my good fortune that, at least for a few days, I get to belong there as well.

Turtles, Ticks and Dynamite

The Sweethearts went on a little excursion last Monday to one of our most favorite places, Osage Hills State Park. It's where we got hitched nearly seven years ago, and the first (and last) place Mr. Sweetheart accidentally threw a rock at my head. In fact, my head and various rocks have had more than one meeting at Osage Hills. But, those are stories for another time.
Thankfully, the days are getting a bit cooler, so, helmets on, we headed out for a nature hike on a rocky, wooded trail we had never been down. After a while, we came out into a little clearing where we stopped to smell the weeds and watch a deer bound down the hillside.


Then we met a turtle. Here the turtle is hearing all about our summer trip to Silver Dollar City, another of our most favorite places.


Eventually we came upon a couple of small rock buildings built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. Most of the native sandstone structures in the park were built by the Corps, including the shelter where we held our wedding ceremony.


This tiny, dilapidated building in the middle of the woods was built to house blasting caps, dynamite being needed to build all of the sandstone structures, I presume. It stands only about five feet high, and entering would require you to crouch down and duck through a small door.


The heavy iron plated door still opens and closes, but the roof, made of corrugated tin supported by timber beams and covered with flat stones, has caved in.


Out there in the middle of the woods and rocks, the sound of the wind in the oak trees and the calling of wild birds were the only noises to be heard. It felt like we'd stepped back in time. Anyone that knows me knows that there is nothing I love more than stepping back in time.


I spent a very long time staring at the weathered wood and rusty nails on the inside of the door.


Then we hiked back to the car, came home, discovered about a million teensy weensy ticks on ourselves, and scrubbed ourselves bloody in the shower. The next day Sugar Pea and I came down with yucky colds that we're just, today, starting to shake.
Tick bites and a cold are small prices to pay for stepping back in time with my two favorite people.

Craft Hope Cowboy

I made this wonky little cowboy a while back to send to Nicaragua with Eren of This Vintage Chica as part of Craft Hope's second project.


He's a bit wonky because, in usual procrastinator fashion, I was literally stuffing and sewing him a half hour before the Post Office closed on the last day to mail him in time for his trip to South America. I snapped a quick picture to have some record of his existence, threw him in a box, and Sugar Pea and I made a mad dash down the street to get him shipped off in the nick of time. His cowgirl sister is a work in progress which I hope to finish in time for my little one's third birthday. Yes, as hard as it is to believe, my Little Pumpkin will be turning three in a couple of months! I hope my little bit of handmade love made a tiny difference in the life of another child, far away.

Thoroughly Modern

The Tiny Glittery Forest

Lately, I've been a bit obsessed with teeny, tiny worlds under glass. The seed for this obsession may have been planted when, as a child, my green thumb-havin' Hippie Mama helped me make my own little terrarium. I don't remember the little ecosystem thriving under my care (I'm sure I quickly lost interest), but the fond memory of designing my own magical landscape, all contained in a glass bubble, has stayed with me all these years. I've wanted to craft up my own snow globe for a while, but hadn't gotten around to it. While trying to think of creative ways to reuse glass food jars that can't be recycled in our area, I suddenly had the thought to combine my love of terrariums, snow globes, folk art whimsy bottles, miniature shrines, kitsch, and glitter all in one sweet little package.


So, I spray painted a jar lid my favorite aqua color, and set to work armed with paint, glitter, and other vintage bits.


The result is a tiny, magical forest inhabited by an itsy bitsy deer.


I may have to start asking the neighbors for jars, because I'm going to need a bunch.

Deluxe Photo Shoot

You may recall me mentioning that I was working on a Depression Era themed project this spring. My friends Sara and J.D., the lovely, hard working ladies behind Deluxe Indie Craft Bazaar and Wayward Textile Foundation, asked me to take part in a photo shoot with the two of them and the oh-so-talented Samantha Lamb. I styled our hair in some 1930's-esque styles, and donning some pretty dresses, we spread a tablecloth for a vintage Stitch and Bitch session.


Sam's photography is so beautifully dreamy, and she is a lovely, sweet soul whom I'm so glad I had the pleasure of meeting.


She shot some individual portraits of the three of us, as well.


I love this happy portrait of J.D. and Sara, with the sun in their hair.


It was such a fun project!

Welcome Little Stranger

Know what Mister and I did on our Summer vacation? We went and started ourselves a band. I use the term "band" pretty loosely here. "Recording project" is more accurate. Actually, "Whatever we can accomplish with our crappy recording equipment after Sugar Pea has finally gone to sleep for the night, if we're not too tired, or don't have a Netflix movie with dirty words that needs to be watched Project " is probably the most accurate term. I'm not really sure why it took us eleven years to combine our talents, but we're having a big time doing it. I'm lucky to be married to a very talented musician/songwriter/recording engineer who lets his less gifted, but extremely enthusiastic wife strum away at an autoharp and write dark, folky lyrics about Masonic funeral rites and Voodoo. Life is sweet.


The name comes from the heartbreaking Victorian tradition of waiting to see if a baby would live before he or she was named, just in case this life didn't take. Presents of small pillows and pincushions were often given to a new mother with messages spelled out in pins, which in themselves were a valuable gift. "Welcome, Little Stranger" was a common sentiment from that time. Bet you didn't know I was an Old-Timey Goth, did you, Dollfaces? I'm just full of surprises!
So if Folky Goth holds any appeal for you, click on that pretty little picture up there, or on the "Welcome Little Stranger" button on the sidebar, and have a listen. Add us to your friends and drop us a line, if you like. Why suffer longer?