A Christmas Wreath DIY

When I picture my future home in my mind, it always mangages to magically look like the pages of a Pottery Barn magazine. I often find myself browsing through a store or the online sales pages hoping to find something I can't live without that just happens to be a killer deal. And I was doing just that when I saw this beauty.

Photo Credit: Pottery Barn

But this baby is selling for almost $80 right now, and I'm pretty sure it's not going on sale any time soon. So I decided to tackle my first DIY project in a really long time (and my first step-by-step tell all). Here's what I did (and I apologize in advance for the blurry, dark or otherwise terrible pictures)...

First I figured that I needed big, fluffy wreath. I had one I bought at Garden Ridge for $3 last year. It's a little skinny, so I bent each of the branches toward the outer edge of the circle. It turned out like this:

I found this smaller, slightly fatter wreath at Michael's for $2.

I nestled the smaller one into the middle of the larger one and wired the two together using green floral wire ($1.50 for a lot at Garden Ridge). Unfortunately I forgot to take an after picture. Trust me when I say the wreath looks much better already!

Now the fun part! I found silver and red plastic ornaments (some shiny and some matte) from Garden Ridge for less than $15. Then I pulled out common tools of the DIY trade.

Using the scissors (or the pliers with a wire cutting edge), I cut several pices of the floral wire and threaded them through the tops of the ornaments. Actually, Hubby did this for me while I mulled over their placement on the wreath. He is very sweet and very helpful.

This part is where another common tool of the DIY trade comes in handy.

Occasionally the tops fell off the ornaments (I did say they were cheap!). Not to worry. Hot glue fixes anything!

As Hubby threaded the ornaments with wire, I started putting them into the wreath fairly haphazardly. I simply shoved an ornament down into the branches and twisted the floral wire around the wire form that held the wreath together.

All told, the project was about $20 and an hour of time - a far cry from the $80 I would have had to spend at PB. And here's the final product.

Never being one to wait, I pulled out the very best hanging tools. Ribbon and my masking tape (a metal apartment door and lack of a wreath hanger means I have to improvise). I wrapped the ribbon around the wreath (Nester style) and promptly taped the ribbon ends to the top of the door. It doesn't look half bad...

And hopefully no one will look closely enough to notice the tape. :)

This post is linked to Kimba's DIY Day over at A Soft Place to Land.

A Beautifully Imperfect Pre-Thanksgiving Dinner

It was 5:30 p.m. and I was panicking. Hubby had the turkey precariously perched on a cutting board over the sink, staring at the meat thermometer with furrowed brow and willing the needle past the FDA recommended temperature. Still not done. Why couldn't we have gotten the turkey with the red, pop-up thing that tells you when it's done?

5:35 and our guests still hadn't arrived. I lit candles around the house, admired the table's centerpiece for a split second and prayed they would be later as Hubby shoved the bird back in the oven. The oven door shut and the front doorbell rang.

Deep breath. Wear a smile. Open the door and usher the first couple out of the rainy cold and into the warm house. Take coats. Offer them seats in the living room. Apologize profusely for dinner being late. Rush back into the kitchen where Hubby is frowning into the oven. Grab one of the gals, pull her into the kitchen and ask for an opinion. Peer at it for a little while, and then pronounce the meat done. Frantically start carving and plating the dressing and sides.

Nearly 30 minutes after the proposed dinner time, I ushered our guests to the table, instructing them to grab plates to take to the buffet line and offering peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the event that the turkey was terrible.

Soon the house was filled with the sounds of forks against plates, occasional laughter and comfortable chit-chat. No one seemed to mind the cooling mashed potatoes, the semi-soggy stuffing or the half warm bread.

The hour after dinner found us sipping mulled cider and nibbling homemade apple pie (a gift from one of the guests) around a crackling fire. Before I knew it, folks were gathering leftovers and coats in preparation to head home, and I started worrying about what they thought of my crazy dinner.

Just before a friend and her husband walked through the door, she turned and gently said, "Thanks for inviting us into your home for dinner. It's really cozy."

I closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Despite the imperfections, we managed to create a soft place to land for our friends. At the end of the evening, that's all that really mattered and I was thankful.

Linked to Tuesdays Unwrapped at Emily's place (Chatting at the Sky).

The One in Which I Give In

I did it. I caved.

Hubby and I gave up caffeine about two months ago. I've generally tried to steer clear of the stuff for most of my (somewhat) grown up life (i.e. post college). You see, I tend to get pretty nasty migraines and while there seem to be 18.3 triggers for them, caffeine is by far the worst.

When Hubby started having dull headaches, he decided it was time to detox, and that was all the encouragement I needed to totally rid myself of the junk, too.

And in giving up the caffeine, we've managed to almost completely rid ourselves of sodas, tea and just about every other beverage chock full of calories save the occasional glass of juice, decaf coffe or milk. It's been glorious.

We spent this weekend in Chapel Hill taking in a football game and spending time with friends that we haven't seen in almost a year and a half. Sunday we went for lunch at Carolina Cafe, a Panera type place that has some of the best sweet tea this side of the Mason-Dixon line.

I haven't been presented with a challenge this tough in the past eight weeks and I gave in. I filled my cup to the brim with ice (so I wouldn't drink so much), poured in the sweet tea, plopped in two large lemon wedges and gulped down the first sip.

It wasn't nearly as good as I remembered. How disappointing. I broke a two-month, caffeine-free streak for tea that wasn't all that.

Needless to say I promptly returned to my life of primarily water. And next time I am tempted, I'll have to remind myself that I'm really not missing much.

In Which I Stare at the Sky

It was the end of a long day. My office, just down a short hallway from the side door, was freezing cold after folks' incessant coming and going. I still had plenty of projects to finish and deadlines to meet - connecting the world in color and graphic and word to real, satisfying and lasting community. And there was more than enough organizing and managing to fill the rest of my week.

Startled by the dark out the window, I glanced at the clock. 20 minutes after quittin' time and I was still sitting at my desk. So I slowly gathered my things and packed up, dreading the trek home that included a necessary stop at the grocery store. At this point, I was tired, my shoulders were tight and a tension headache was beginning somewhere behind my left eye.

5:30 and the traffic hadn't quite picked up yet - a welcome reprieve from the madness of the city. I pulled into the Harris Teeter parking lot, scanning the sea of cars for the break that indicates an open space. And then I saw it.

Just above the trees surrounding the middle school across the street, it hung pale and full and larger than I've ever seen before. I swung into the first parking spot I saw despite the walk that would be required to reach the front door. And then I climbed out of my car, stood in the parking lot and stared at the sky.

Big, bright, full moons remind me of my first date with Hubby when we sat and watched a total lunar eclipse. And in the midst of hustling to get home, straighten the house, finish a chore or two and cook dinner, I rarely take the time to look for the fairy-tale thing that so completely represents the true tall tale that is the love story I'm living.

The clattering of an old lady pushing her shopping cart across the pavement snapped me out of my reverie. I quickly glanced around, catching more than one person curiously eyeing the girl standing in the parking lot and staring at the sky.

I pulled my cardigan around my shoulders and hurried into the store, knowing I was going greet Hubby with a great kiss when he got home and cherishing my moment with the moon.

Linked over at Emily's place for Tuesday Unwrapped.

That Time of Year

The earth was puddled with water it could not accept after hours of relentless rain. Trees blazed gloriously, fighting the dark day with gold and red. Gray sky hung heavily around the city, reaching past coats, scarves and sweaters to chill flesh and bone. It was a day that hinted at the season to come.

So it came only as a mild surprise when Hubby and I turned on the car only to hear Christmas songs on the local Christian radio station. The station was playing a weekend of Christmas music in anticipation of celebrating the season after Thanksgiving Day. I felt like a child, giddy with excitement.

It is so hard to believe that the holidays are right around the corner! Last year I posted a list of signs the season is here and virtually all of them held true yesterday - though I haven't yet seen a Christmas commercial.

So, my friends, as you prepare yourself and your family for what will inevitably be a crazy and busy time - may you slow down long enough to notice the simple. May you be thankful for things often overlooked. May your days be merry. May your sorrows be small. And may you remember the One who started it all.

In Which I Make a Risky Statement

The debate raged in my head while I savored my hot shower this morning. To post or not to post. But I've made my decision so here it goes...

I've decided to take up running with the goal of completing a race in the spring.

There you have it. My risky statement. Now, it might not seem all that dramatic. But I am not a runner. I've never liked running. And now that I've put my personal goal out there for all of bloggy world to see, I can't exactly quit. Cause I'm not a quitter...even more than I'm not a runner.

Why, you might ask, why would you take up running if you don't even like it? And that's a perfectly valid question.

You see, Hubby is a runner, but not just any type of runner. He's a distance runner. He's the kind of runner that goes out for a quick jog and comes home 8 miles later. The kind that thought sacrificing most of his toenails was worth the pride of saying he's completed 26.2 miles at once (that's a marathon for the non-runner types).

Many times in our the course of our dating/engagement/marriage, he's subtly hinted at how fun it would be to run a race together - even if it is just a 5K. And every time I've chuckled and shrugged it off cause let's face it: the concept of runner's high is like Greek mythology to me.

But I know this is something he loves to do. And it would be a great way to spend time together. And yet another thing to face: I need to start getting excerise on a regular basis again.

So I'm going to learn how to be a runner. Actually, I'm alrady in the process of learning to be a runner. I'm dragging myself out of the bed in the morning and following Runner's World's training schedule for beginners. I'm already through my week of walking and into my first week of running intervals.

Here's the kicker: so far I've really enjoyed it. And there are some seriously cute running clothes to be worn.

Don't worry. This blog won't turn into a chronicle-my-progress-and-celebrate-my-achievements kind of a blog (famous last words). But now that I've put this out there, I'll probably post updates from time to time.....and maybe a picture of me at the finish line in the spring.

Happy Trails!

Learning

I realize that I've been MIA for a while and I promise it has been for good reason...

I've had writer's block. My inspiration dried up and I'm not one for writing when there's no reason or purpose.

And I'm pretty sure I know why. Recently I discovered that for someone who harps on the importance of silence and rest, I have an awfully hard time slowing down and being still. Draw a bubble bath for me and I'll sink in. Give me a book to read and an afternoon to myself and I'll sit until I'm finished. But ask me to spend more than 20 or 30 minutes with the Lord and I tend to shy away.

I try to tell myself that it's because I am a doer and an accomplisher by nature. But I think there are underlying reasons that go deeper than that. I'm slowly sorting through them and when I do, I think I'll have things to write about again.

But for now I'm getting away with Him and recovering my life. I'm keeping company with Him and learning to live freely and lightly. I'm sitting still and letting Him teach me the unforced rhythms of grace.

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly.

-Matthew 11:28-30 (The Message)-