Tag: Michael’s

A Good Day

Yesterday Studly Doright was working out of town. I knew he wouldn’t be home until late, so with a long expanse of time to fill I decided to get out of the house and find stuff to do.

My initial thought was to drive to St. George Island for a beach day, but a quick glance at the weather forecast showed rain showers for much of the afternoon. I’ll wait for a sunshiny day to head to the gulf.

Instead I went to see The Book Club, starring the fabulous four: Jane Fonda, Candice Bergen, Mary Steenburgen, and Diane Keaton. Even on a Tuesday morning the theater was almost full, and all but two of the seats were occupied by women. The movie is a treat, especially for women my age and older. I laughed harder than I have in ages.

Afterwards I had lunch at Zöe’s, and then strolled around Whole Foods. Exciting stuff, right? But I hadn’t felt as good as I did yesterday since the beginning of May, so for me it was exciting stuff indeed.

A rumble of thunder and a darkening sky hastened me on my way to my car, but I wasn’t ready to return to Doright Manor quite yet. I drove to Governor’s Square Mall, parked in the parking garage, and then wandered aimlessly for awhile. Then the Great American Cookie Company in the food court started calling my name. For awhile I was able to tune it out, but then it got really obnoxious and I had to have a chewy pecan supreme cookie to quiet the voices. I hate it when that happens.

Of course then I had to walk more to work off the cookie calories. I decided I needed an ottoman for our patio. Even knowing that none of the stores in the mall was likely to have such an item, I looked anyway. That’s how I tricked myself into walking for another hour. I’m easy like that.

Now that I was on a mission to find an ottoman, I left the mall and drove to the shopping center where Marshall’s and Bed, Bath, & Beyond are located. Surely I could find something to suit me at one of those two stores. Bed, Bath, and Beyond had ottomans more suited for inside use. Marshall’s had a couple that were indoor/outdoor, but they were gaudy. We can’t have gaudy at Doright Manor.

I want one like this:

Just for grins I walked through Michael’s arts and crafts emporium extraordinaire. There I found a crate that I thought I might could turn into a cute ottoman with a coat of paint and a bright pillow. But I got a splinter in my finger when I picked up the crate, putting a damper on that idea. I’m opposed to furniture that physically attacks me.

As I left Michael’s, a glance at my Fitbit told me I was within 1,000 steps of reaching my goal for the day, a goal I haven’t even come close to realizing for over a month. My feet were getting tired, but I buckled down and did a quick walk through of the Old Navy and Ulta stores in the same shopping center before driving home.

I fixed myself a light dinner and drank a tall glass of water. My Fitbit was at 9,900 steps, and I practically had to crawl to bed to finish out the day, but by golly, I reached my goal, and today should be easier. Or I might just have to hibernate and recover. Regardless, yesterday was a good day.

Peace, people.

Scraps from Their Pasts

For Christmas I put together scrapbooks of their early years for our two children. The idea wasn’t an original one. Studly Doright’s mom, Saint Helen, had given Studly and his four siblings scrapbooks several years ago as Christmas gifts and for him at least, it remains one of his all-time favorite gifts.

I’m not a very crafts minded person, but in preparation for assembling these scrapbooks I made multiple trips to Michael’s (for non-Americans, that’s THE place to go for creative types) in order to purchase the books and to find appropriate decorative touches for each page. I bought tons of stuff and ended up using only a fraction of it. Project ideas, anyone.

I’m so awful at this type of thing that I actually started all this at the beginning of 2016 and had planned on presenting them with their gifts at Christmas that year, but I got bogged down in the minutiae, and it took me almost two years to complete the task. I’m still not sure how my mother-in-law put together five such books without going crazy, because I’m fairly certain some of my sanity was lost in the process.

I’d looked forward to presenting the books to my kids in person when we were all in Nashville that Christmas, but since I was an entire year behind, and we weren’t getting to see them for the holidays this year, I had to put them in the mail.

Now, I’d worked my butt off cropping photos and arranging them with curlicues and doodads. I’d spent countless hours searching through old school pictures and awards. The thought of trusting these works of heart to the mail almost drove me crazy(er). So, before I boxed them up for shipping to Dallas, Texas, where our son lives and to Port Byron, Illinois, where our daughter resides, I documented each and every page with the help of my trusty iPhone camera.

I’ll spare you from viewing all of the pages (you’re welcome). While I wasn’t there when they opened the books they both assured me they’d enjoyed their trips down memory lane. I’m so glad I spent the time creating these, but even more glad that I had only two children.

Peace, people.

Artsy Fartsy

Every now and again I am struck by the need to create a work of art using my keen eye and able hands. On those occasions I’m usually walking through a Michael’s craft store with a couple of extra bucks in my pocket and a good case of amnesia.

Because no matter how often I purchase paints, or pencils, sketchbooks, or canvases, I am totally incapable of drawing anything more complex than a primary yellow sun with a happy face and straight rays poking out all around. 

  

Yet I conveniently forget this simple fact over and over again.

There is something about a blank piece of paper that fills me with the burning desire to create. All that’s missing is a bit of talent.

Here’s my newest purchase:  

Notice the beautiful sketchbook? Oh, the possibilities!

Notice the color pencils? They are not sharpened, and I have no sharpener at home.

So, for at least tonight the sketchbook is safe from my fumbling attempts at creating art. I think I just heard a papery sigh of relief.

Peace, people!