a kitschy plan...

i have mentioned before

how i do believe the best thing we ever did since moving to mossy shed

was adding our back yard chickens...

but what i failed to mention was the one down side i have found to having them live with us.

i know for some, it may come as a shock to learn

i do indeed find a negative with my chickie peas.

all of their positiveness far outweighs the little negative

but it is still one that i must tell.

our chickens may go wheresoever their little hearts care to roam

within our back yard,

thus making any lovely little flowers fear for their lives...

so when i looked upon this picture after showing you earlier in the week,

it dawned on me, something was obviously missing.

for indeed the last time i took such a shot,

i had flowers looking pretty in their pots.

now all i have is an acre of moss

and bulldozed pots and beds...

there was nothing for it, dearest readers

but to take a risk,

a risky kitschy kind of risk...

so without further a do,

whilst my menfolk watched the footy this morning

i, along with Our #1 left for the thrift store.

i donned my thrifty find from a few days ago

hoping it would bring me luck...

with my kitschy plan inside my head

i knew i was on a mission, perhaps an impossible mission

for we all know,

missions are not easy to fulfill at the thrift store.

it is more 'per chance' that things come our way...

back at the shed looking at the kitschy goodness i unearthed

i am filled with thoughts of my 'outdoor flowery' plan,

in my head it looks tres peachy

but in reality i am thinking

it could go either way...

she is wishing you all the most loveliest of lovely weekends and thanking you most kindly for your peachiness this past week ~ Tif

thrifty thursdays...

hurrah! it is thrifty thursdays,

oh how i have missed my thrifty thursdays 'show and tell'

so without further a do i shall proceed...

well, truth be told dearest readers i felt a little guilty leaving my children to loiter,

but upon entering the thrift store my guilt slipped away

for that is the wonder of a thrift store...

it just becomes you,

your thoughts

and the your next peachy find.

i do believe yesterday,

i had my most peachiest frock find to date.

i found her rather neglected upon the racks of despair.

indeed it was her color i was instantly attracted to,

that 'perfectly perfect' sludgy, slightly icky, green.

and then to see that perfect green matched with blossoms and branches,

not to mention a mandarin collar...

well i think it comes as no surprise

when i say

i was overcome with dizziness and not the Mr Vertigo kind.

i did not bother to try her on,

her price tag being only $5 i was willing to take a chance...

if her fit was iffy

then i would 'choppity chop' her up to make cushions.

upon returning to the shed

i donned my new thrift store frock,

i gasped the gasp

could it be this little sweetie had potential,

perhaps a little loose and yes way too long,

but surely nothing Miss Ethel could not handle

after a few stolen moments here and there in my studio

i noted my thrift store frock began to shine...

i added a little tie detail with lace trim

and voila!

her pretty summery self shone forth.

she is thinking it is all adding up to Mr Summer doing a bit of loitering himself ~ Tif

where for art thou Mr Sprightly Spring...

i have come to the conclusion that i have been robbed...

yes indeed, robbed of Spring

and as of a few hours ago, it would now appear also our credit card details.

but we will not dwell on such 'crappity crappiness' of the utmost crappy kind.

no we will go back to Spring and the mysterious disappearance of it...

which is crappy enough in it's self for one day.

i am beginning to wonder if i jinxed it.

for indeed i did 'sprightly springify' the shed to within an inch of its life in January.

now i am thinking perhaps that fooled Mr Spring and he has passed me by,

thinking his job was done...

usually this time of year, my little pasty pins have had some exposure,

of course in winter,

i may forget the razor and go as nature intended.

but in June this is risque.

for although my pins are not seeing much daylight i must keep them 'daylight ready'

i know the minute i say "oh sod it Mr Spring" and start to grow my winter coat,

he will appear,

suddenly,

mockingly,

out of the gray will come blue,

no warning

and at a most inconvenient time.

a time when i am unable to dedicate a marathon session with my pins and a razor.

he will have the last laugh watching me sweat it out

in my layers of clothing.

unable to remove my woolly attire...

so i cannot take the risk,

despite this being my risk taking year,

for now i will continue to have my pins 'spring ready' and pasty under my layers.

i will also continue to assess my frocks.

for i'm all about the frocks...

any season is frock season for me

but i am particularly fond of spring summery frocks.

so far i have found 3 summer frocks at the thrift store,

one of which is now with handy apron and pocket,

so i may collect eggs

small creatures

or perhaps care to carry around my yarn

and

Mr Hook

and best of all

(perhaps the bestest of besty all)

a pair of dungarees (overalls)

oh, how i rejoiced when i found them.

for dungarees have been my best friend for many years.

they saw me through my teen years.

then into my twenties

and through four pregnancies...

but then i hit the big 30.

apparently, according to an article i read at that time,

by 30 it was a big "NO NO" to be seen in dungarees.

oh the power of the written word,

i took my 'lordy how could i have let you go' old man's denim LEE dark washed vintage dungarees

and sent them packing.

even now i'm choked just thinking about the crime i committed

due to the opinion of another.

11 years on, in my local thrift store

and

i was stopped in my tracks by a pair.

not quite the same, for another could never replace my true love.

as i reached out to them,

they spoke to me,

i said "i'll give you a try"

all the time, the article from so long ago, ringing in my ears...

by the time i had the second clip in place and turned to the mirror

i could only hear one thing,

for a small chorus of angels had crammed into the little cubicle with me,

singing their angelic hearts out with a small round of

"hallelujah, hallelujah"

and

from outside the cubicle,

glory shone from under the door

it would appear, a little piece of me, i lost so long ago had returned home...

since being reunited with some dungarees

i have noted just how content i feel.

in the back of my head i hear dottie angel

once again reminding me just how wonderful it is to be

an eclectic woman of an uncertain age.

and despite the fact Mr Spring appears to have forgotten about me,

i note it really does not matter.

for wearing my dungarees or apron frock,

clippty clopping clogs upon my feet

and pasty pins

i'm feeling sprightly and springy even in the crappiest of crappity weather...

she will be back tomorrow with how she made her 'ordinarily extraordinary' blanket ~ Tif

eight months and counting...

oh you don't miss a trick do you my lovely dearest readers!

in the words of my beautiful late grandmother

"there are no flies on you"

for indeed i am most reassured, if ever i need to remember something,

all i have to do is ask upon my shiny place

and you will remember for me.

i have no clue as to what i rambled on about last week,

and yet

you seem to have your recall skills in 'tippity top' condition.

i think i am most lucky indeed to have you as my readers of the utmost kind...

and so it would appear,

i have past the eight month marker for my handcrafted secondhand year.

in the time that has past i could nearly have added to my clan

but instead of a babe in arms

i have a 'ton of thrifty finds' to love,

who do not demand anything of me

other than a place to rest their weary discarded souls.

despite my love for little babies,

i'm a tres weary some days in the mothering department.

i'm saving myself for some 'granny loving'

until then

i'm fine and dandy

with my collection of forsaken souls

i am giving out several gold sticky stars for observing my latest used clippity clogs.

they are indeed new to me.

they came used from the aisles of Ebay,

in the description it said they had a few scruffs.

upon arrival at the shed,

after a well fought battle with another who wished to make them hers.

(or possibly his, but i'm thinking he would have to have small feet, so i'm going with hers)

i had to get out my magnifying glass to find the scruffs...

i found two.

they were in tippity top condition,

just like your recall skills.

when i wear my 'i can't quite believe you are truly mine' clogs

with the pretty painted flowers,

i am transported to another world

a world of folksy things,

dala horses

and other such lovelies.

indeed i have them upon my feet at this very moment

my only regret is no longer having braids to match them...

so my dearest readers,

i must just say to you

not a single day goes by that i am not humbled by the kindness

you bring to my inbox

and

the comments you leave on my shiny place.

you continuously take time out of your busy days

to say hello,

thank me for inspiring you and lifting your days.

but what you will never perhaps fully understand is,

i should be thanking you.

for giving me the confidence

to continue down the path of 'crafty vintage rambling' goodness upon this blog.

the mere fact you appear to read my ramblings is quite extraordinary to moi.

especially as i appear to have taken on a poetry like writing style...

i have no idea how it happened,

perhaps it has always been there

but to me,

i often look at my post

thinking it looks like a poem

and indeed quite often reading like 'a nonsense one' at that

to say my 'thank yous' properly with perfect manners

something i'm thinking 'mrs dull' would approve of.

and to let you know just how much 'i like you' lots...

oh, alright then,

'i love you' lots.

i will be having a 'give away' on monday

"oh yippee!" i hear you cry

until then, she is wishing you the peachiest of peachy weekends ~ Tif aka still mrs dull (according to the creatures in the shed)

thrifty thursdays on monday...

on friday Our #4 turned 12.

i noted he was full of beans

whilst i was full of aches...

i marveled at how being 12 was rather wonderful

one appears to have no worries

nor CCSI's to slow one down

in the evening Our #1 insisted on taking me to the thrift store

she said it would do me good to get out and about.

i think right there dearest readers, shows why i shall miss her so.

she drove me there,

found a cart to prop me up

directed me to the household department

and left me to it,

whilst she went to the clothing aisles.

never have i been so glad my thrift store has trolleys.

mine served several purposes as i hobbled around...

to replace my need for a zimmer frame

and to also hold the growing pile of treasures

upon returning home to the shed

i noted to Our #4

that indeed his birthday may be lacking a cake,

but what it lacked in cake

it made up for in thrifty finds...

a Stelton vacuum jug by Erik Magnussen

for $7

and a rather peachy retro quilt

for the couch.

i then broke out my Cadbury's Caramel bar from hiding

and shared it with the birthday boy.

to celebrate his 12 years

which seems so much longer,

and to celebrate my thifty finds

which always seem so much sweeter

when found thrifting with Our #1

she is taking things slowly with Miss Ethel and thanking you most kindly for your CCSI support ~ Tif

a little monkey tale...

if you are sitting comfortably,

then i shall begin...

once upon a time in a far away land

lived a little wooden monkey.

he was a happy little wooden monkey

who liked to spend his days high above the jungle floor

playing in the trees.

the little wooden girl monkeys thought him quite the best swinger in the jungle.

this made the other wooden boy monkeys rather cross.

one day as the little wooden monkey was just doing his thing,

a branch broke,

he fell

down

down

down

landing with quite an awful thud.

as he lay there dazed and confused

he could hear chattering coming from above.

to start with the little wooden monkey thought it was

the great monkey gods in the sky talking to him,

but no it was not.

it was the naughty wooden boy monkeys laughing

for indeed they were most wicked

and in their jealousies

had weakened a branch

thus causing

this terrible tragedy

to befall the little wooden monkey.

worse was still to come,

as the little wooden monkey lay upon the jungle floor

he noted something different

for although he was face down

he could not smell the ground.

he touched his little wooden face

and a great sadness washed over him.

where once his lovely little wooden nose had been,

there was nothing.

early the next morning,

being sure no other little wooden monkeys would see him

and his 'ugliness'

he walked to where the great wooden wise owl was waiting,

for the wooden owl was so wise he knew the little wooden monkey would be coming.

and so he got up especially early

and waited

after much thought and consideration,

he told the little wooden monkey

quite wisely,

there was only one hope,

he had heard of a place far far away,

a thrift store for little forsaken souls.

legend has it

that an eclectic woman of an uncertain age who goes by the name of Tif,

frequents this mysterious place.

often looking for little waifs and strays who may need some help.

the great wise wooden owl continued to tell the little wooden monkey

that legend also has it,

Tif lives in a dwelling called Mossy Shed.

a place that it has been told

is a mecca for little forsaken souls.

all the time,

the little wooden monkey's eyes got bigger and bigger

the very next morning

the little wooden monkey stood exactly where the wise wooden owl had told him to wait.

he waited

and then he waited a little bit more

just as he thought he could wait no more

a large shout came from the trees.

the little wooden monkey turned to find

Eric the Viking

with his mode of transport

"hop aboard little wooden monkey,

it's time to go"

he growled.

after many, many days and nights

the little wooden monkey found himself in Tif's thrift store

he was frightened

he was tired

and

he was still without a little nose.

he looked around him,

for the first time in days he started to feel normal.

for next to him was

a little ceramic bird with no tail,

and on the other side

a china doll with a nasty gash in her head and not much hair.

days past,

he watched as forsaken little souls

came and went.

he got used to being picked up

and put down.

he got used to small children

spinning his little arms around and around

until it hurt so badly

he wished to weep...

then one day it happened.

an hour before closing the little wooden monkey heard

the other lost souls start to chatter words of

"that's her"

and

"see, i told you she was real"

the little wooden monkey watched

as an eclectic woman of an uncertain age

perused the shelves.

she came closer,

she gasped

she looked straight at him,

he gulped

and then he felt himself being lifted up

in a rather gently way.

"little wooden monkey, how lucky am i to have found you" said Tif

upon arrival home at mossy shed

Tif's man asked

"any good stuff tonight?"

to which she replied

"oh yes!"

"what did you say" he called "only crappity crap?"

Tif smiled

pulled out the little wooden monkey,

placed him on the table and said

"i think i struck gold"

several hours later

the little wooden monkey,

who's little nose had been lost,

who had travelled so far from the jungle

had a spiffy new dottie angel nose

and

knew without a doubt

he would live

happily ever after...

the end

she is past the third coat and still the green mocks her ~ Tif

Jamie and the little voice...

yesterday i left mossy shed with good intentions.

plans to drop our #4 at the soccer field

and head straight to the grocery store.

i had in my hand a shopping list containing all i required to make a pie just like the one in my Jamie Oliver book.

which i must tell you is now sporting a lovely jacket of vintage wallpaper

to match the inside of the book

and mossy shed

"Tif, are you quite barmy?" i hear you exclaim

well yes, some may say i am,

making a little jacket for my book,

is a true sign of the high hopes i have placed in Jamie and his ability to get me cooking.

i sat at the stop light,

i glanced at the list by my side

and then a voice popped into my head.

the little voice mentioned how much it admired my good intentions

but also had i forgotten that indeed my usual port of call when soccer practice is playing out, would be the thrift store.

i gulped

i felt a little whoozy,

the little voice was tempting me to forsake Jamie and his pie ingredients.

i weakened,

thinking of the shelves of despair full of forsaken little souls

wishing to find their way home to the shed.

upon entering the thrift store with guilt on my shoulders,

i went to the clothing department,

after a short while i noticed polyester vintage garments were talking to me

to stop them talking to me,

i told a fib

"polyester vintage garments, do not tempt me with your granny chic charms,

for i cannot help you,

polyester is not my thing"

but they know

what i know

and you know

to be true...

yes indeed a curtain of the finest dottie angel goodness can be made from polyester...

i sensed their despair as i turned away dismayed at my fibbing ways.

i moved swiftly on to the china department

thinking it was all part of Jamie's plan to drive me from the thrift store and into the grocery store...

more lost souls started talking to me once again.

in the nicest possibly way i had to let them down

for they were total 'crappity crap'

and despite rustling around in my bag for my rose colored specs

and saying outloud

"what would dottie do"

i was at a loss for how to save them.

then it happened,

once again a thrift store happening that you all know happens from time to time.

you can't quite believe that what you see is there,

that no other, good thrifting fellow, has spotted it before you.

a bowl with all the look of a Catherine Holm,

on close inspection no marking

therefore causing me to suspect its impostering ways.

but imposter or not

it would be a thrifting crime of the utmost kind,

not to make her mine

i claimed my find,

hugging her for a little while

guilt falling from my shoulders.

upon the way home i picked up chinese takeout

whilst silently promising Jamie that as soon as i got home,

washed up my lovely little bowl

fed and watered the clan with my fast food offering,

i would go late night grocery shopping to make up for my faltering ways...

she is armed today with pie ingredients, Jamie once again by her side and high hopes ~ Tif

a thrifted tale...

i tell you this tale today dearest readers,

so those amongst us that live with DOUBTERS

may take heart

and continue to stay strong

whilst 'a thrifting'.

for indeed life with a 'doubter of the secondhand kind' can be most inconvenient at times...

so if you are sitting comfortably,

have rather a lot of time on your hands to spare,

i shall begin.

once upon a time in a Mossy Shed surrounded by an acre of moss, lived Tif.

once again we find Tif to be an eclectic bohemian crafter of a uncertain age,

pottering about her usual friday morning, doing 'pottering must dos'.

after a bit of pottering Tif had to go out,

Tif rarely left the safety of her shed but some days it was necessary.

this time she required something to complete a crafty project

(more of that tomorrow)

on the way back from said place Tif passed her local thrift store.

she never went there on a friday for getting a parking spot was always most stressful and put paid to any enthusiasm for thrifting.

but for some reason she thought perhaps she'd just try her luck,

"no harm" she thought to herself

and

as she was passing it would seem silly not to try.

she visualized the space and voila! one appeared...

after a few minutes of pottering around the shelves thinking it all was rather 'crappity crap' and begining to doubt the space in the parking lot was karma,

Tif rounded the corner to the furniture aisle.

at that moment dearest readers,

Tif experienced her most peachiest thrift store find of all time...

for she knew her thrift store did not do mid century furniture,

other than perhaps the odd side table.

in fact for a long time she was suspicious that those out back who did the sorting, knew their stuff and never allowed any mid century lovely pieces to go out onto the shop floor.

but Tif learnt several lessons that day,

one of which,

miracles do happen

and the thrifty gods do bless those that shop secondhand.

she noted a chair,

looked a little closer,

felt a little weak,

checked around and saw its brothers

and that is when it happened

Tif knew she had in her hands something so sweet and beautiful it made her want to weep.

but Tif also knew she lived with a DOUBTER

and this DOUBTER was sending her doubting thought waves.

so Tif faltered from what was right and goodly,

from what the thrifty gods had laid out before her

she took only one chair to the cash till.

but then she hesitated

the gods on one shoulder, telling her

"Tif this is your moment, your most glorious thrift store moment of all time",

the DOUBTER on the other, telling her

"Tif, put it back, how many chairs can one family and one shed need for crying out loud"

Tif returned to the furniture aisle and tried to please both the Gods and her DOUBTER.

she decided to buy two.

hoping to silence the converstation going on in her head.

on returning to the shed,

she pondered her purchases,

$15 a piece.

she noted the label

she placed a bit of fabric over the iffy seat covers

she gasped,

then the fog lifted,

it all became clear.

the thrifty Gods had moved in mysterious ways,

opening up a parking space,

guiding Tif to a set of mid century chairs in all their glory,

at an incredible price

and she had let them down

she had been swayed by a DOUBTER...

Tif quickly emailed her soul sister in old blighty

confessing the sin.

her soul sister emailed her back immediately

telling her she was not to listen to the DOUBTER in her shed or her head

and get her arse back in the car and rescue the other chairs before it was too late.

after 45 minutes of fretting, thinking someone else would find the last two chairs before she got to them,

she was rewarded for returning to the righteous path the thrifty Gods had shown her.

a little while later,

armed with furniture polish,

four peachy chairs

and

some 'spring fling fabrics' she got to work....

later that evening

she was ready for the DOUBTER to return from work,

and

indeed the following day, Tif once again had to leave the shed to run some errands,

she left a gentle reminder for her DOUBTER to find upon his return from soccer.

so there would be no doubt in his mind,

Tif would never again,

wavier upon discovering mid century furniture at the thrift store...

for to have come most close to walking away from the set,

splitting them apart forever

would have been a 'thrift store sin of the utmost kind'

Tif is grateful the Gods blessed her twice that day,

allowed her to be influnenced by the DOUBTER who lives in her shed,

knowing that it was all part of their greater plan.

for they knew she had to falter,

to lose her way,

so they could prove to her

once and for all,

the secondhand path she tries to stay on,

day after day

is a

goodly

and

rightly

one...

without a DOUBT

the end

she has 'high hopes' for summer apron wraps this week ~ Tif

conquering 'gingham'...

on Saturday morning i had been greatly cheered,

not only by your lovely comments which you so kindly sent my way.

but also by the knowledge, despite my 'zapped state', i had spotted a new thrift store upon the way home from the gray and beige DOL.

oh yes indeedy!

as we sat at the lights,

our #2 in charge of the wheel,

me clutching my little sunshine sack

and

waving frantically for her to move over lanes so we could get home...

soon realizing it was not to be, as no one was going to let us in.

that's when it happened

like a beacon in the dark,

a glimmer of sunshine on a cloudy day,

i spied 'it' over my shoulder,

lurking between two other buildings...

i could just make out the letters

h.o.m.e

and

i.f.t

i didn't need to see any more, my inbuilt senses told me all i needed to know.

no hope of getting to it then, we were already heading somewhere else due to a 'no lane' change.

no matter, for at that moment i was too zapped.

i know, it must be tres worrying for you dearest readers to learn Tif was too zapped for thrifting.

but do not fret about such things,

it will all be hunky dory in the end.

(do you like that? 'hunky dory'... i have no idea where that came from but i thought it most lovely for a monday ramble),

all that mattered was it's discovery,

waiting patiently for my return.

it didn't have to wait long, Saturday afternoon saw me and our #1 heading back.

just like me, she can't resist the pull of the thrift store.

on entering the store,

i found a cotton gingham duvet cover with orange flowers upon it,

i looked at the cover,

the cover looked at me,

i told the cover,

"i don't do gingham and i don't do purple"

but the cover had other ideas.

launching into dreams of living life as a picnic blanket, patched together with other forsaken fabric friends...

i told the cover,

"little duvet cover, you have helped me to see another side of myself that i did not know existed, and for that i thank you kindly. i can do gingham and i can do purple and i can for you little cover, do a picnic blanket"

she is busy working on recycled lovelies for her little shop update on Thursday ~ Tif

under the influence...

whilst wearing red clogs i have noted several important telling signs...

1. suddenly, since my peachy friends appeared at mossy shed, i possess manic clog dancing skills. something i was unaware of owning until their arrival.

2. my cooking skills have gone up a notch or two.

i have graduated from producing orange colored meals, my speciality, to creating lovingly prepared plates piled with foods in various shades of red.

3. doesn't matter where i am, or what i am doing, if i look down my feet appear to be smiling. when wearing red clogs it would appear i have happy feet

4. if i need to run to the mail box, due to heavy rain, for i do not run otherwise.

i have noted in my clogs it takes twice as long for i fear a clog 'flung' in the air would not be good.

i would then have to hop over to find my 'flung clog' and i am thinking as i rarely run, how on earth would i be able to hop with one clog

5. it is now quite obvious upon getting dressed each morning that i have to bear in mind my clogs.

most days i think all is looking tres fine with my attire, until i catch a glance in the mirror half way down the stairs.

it is then that i note, i often appear to be dressed for a 4th of July parade.

6. i do not do red within Mossy Shed,

except when dabbling in the gleeful season, then i am all about the red.

i also do not craft in red.

and so it would appear my new/old little clippity clopping friends have put paid to that statement

(actually now i think about it i do have little bits of red lying around, but for the sake of drama within my everyday ramble lets pretend i don't)

7. i've said it before and i'll say it again

("oh Tif that's very daring of you" i hear you exclaim

"i know! that's what happens when wearing red clogs" i reply)

i do believe wearing red clogs when thrifting makes all the difference.

i clippity clop around the store with purpose and qualification.

fellow thrifters give me the nod,

the look of mutual respect

bought together by the sharing of a common goal

and not,

i tell myself,

the look of

"what is she wearing, have you ever seen such a ridiculously red pair of clogs".

since thrifting in my clogs i have found

a red thermos flask

a dress, not red but a dress!

lordy my first dress in five months, very summery and very white but none the less a dress,

and

a lovely white crocheted bedspread waiting to have her moment this summer.

proof indeedy, that my thrifting ways have gone up a notch since clogs have come my way...

she is thinking what possibly more, terribly exciting 'things of note' lie ahead for her and her little red clogs ~ Tif

thrifty tuesdays...

ah yes indeedy! we are mixing it up a little dearest readers...

we are not ones to be dull and predictable,

no sirree!

we crave excitement and an element of surprise

and i can't think of anything more exciting and surprising than to take

thrifty thursdays

and make it

thrifty tuesdays!

("oh Tif" i hear you exclaim "how simply thrilling, ney exciting, ney surprising of you, you clever thing"

"why thanking you kindly" i reply "i aim to please")

but before we delve into what 'devilishly exciting' thrifty goodness i have acquired of late i must just say i have not been idle this morning.

despite having volumizing hair issues of the worst kind, causing me to be weighed down like i have not been weighed down since the 80's and my perming addiction.

i am delighted to report, that yes indeed, Miss Ethel and i have been getting it on again.

it would appear she is rested and ready for action...

i can also report

my thrifty finds have reached an all time high,

(or low, if you are my man)

not content with my usual cravings

i have now taken to giving lost thermos flasks a home.

then there is the usual attraction to lovely colored fondue pots,

because of course one never knows when suddenly one may wish to 'fondue'.

i was also spoken to recently by a pair of salt and pepper pots.

sporting rather fabby green plastic tops complete with springy hinges...

seriously, how could i ignore their telling beauty

a pair of sticky hooks in wonderful avocado green complete with original packaging.

i have yet to stick them on anything as they are so terribly wonderful i want to be sure to get it right.

and then finally but by no means least

two forsaken little souls...

it's been a while since a true forsaken soul has found me.

but these two had brilliant potential upon perusal,

and so it came to be that

one little tree

and

one little handy dandy holder

have made themselves at home in mossy shed

my man has noted that i appear to be bringing home way too many waifs and strays for his liking.

dearest readers, i told him he was indeed right, my finds are at a fearfully high quantity of late,

and then i asked him, how does one refuse a little forsaken soul that has the ability to make a wall smile...

i rest my case.

she is thinking that Miss Ethel is sounding a little croaky, she is thinking that may not be good news ~ Tif

when we were young...

if you are sitting comfortably, then i shall begin...

every year as a young child, i would spend my summer vacations on the coast of Cornwall in a small fishing village, with my three older brothers and my folks.

as far as i can remember, our two weeks of holidaying consisted of

~ early morning walks to the next village for newspapers and fresh bread

~ day after day playing on the beach building walls to stop the tide from coming in

~ one of us getting sun burnt despite my mother's careful two hourly applications

~ the sun always shinning and it never, ever raining

~ going to the pub in the evening for a packet of crisps and a bottle of coke

~ staying up late playing cards and board games

~ spending pocket money on shell creatures with glued on 'googly' eyes

~ wearing fishermen smock tops in red and blue

~ and new clogs

("lordy here we go again" i hear you sigh)

that's right dearest readers, for as long as i can remember summer vacations as a child meant a new pair of clogs.

we would take a trip to the big town nearby, climb the windy narrow pavement, risking life and limb with the lorries careering past and venture into the Clog Shop.

where upon the noise of the high street would fade away and i would be transported to Clog heaven...

i would gaze at all the lovely pretties lined up before me, marveling at how Sweden must surely be the best place on earth to live, as everyone wore clogs upon their feet.

then after a while of 'marveling', my mother and i would chose a pair and leave, clippity clopping out of the shop to spend the next year wearing our clogs with great pride.

one such year, upon entering the Clog Shop i spied a pair to equal no other pair of clogs i had owned before.

my feet once again having grown, required me to peruse the shelves of 'clog heaven' and make a choice,

but there was no choice to be made that day, only the pair before me would do,

for i could see no other clogs,

just the pair that called my name, telling me i was the chosen one.

yes indeedy, a patchwork brown and tan pair needed my feet and my love.

i left that day, with my 'true loves' on my feet and a skip in my step...

soon after, my family moved home thus resulting in a change of schools midyear.

i dressed myself aged 10, most finely i felt, for my first morning.

upon my feet, my trusty patchwork clogs.

that day was the first day in my life i saw myself through eyes belonging to others,

my beautiful 'pride and joy' clogs appearing to be a cause of amusement for my new classmates.

i came home,

i took my clogs off,

i placed them in the cupboard

and

i never took them out again.

my childhood affair with clogs was over,

there would be no more summer trips to Clog heaven for me...

but dearest readers do not despair, nor weep into your little hankies,

for we all know a good tale must have it's element of sadness, but with luck, a good tale also turns out just dandy in the end.

and this little tale is no exception...

yes indeedy,

for that 'clog loving' little girl,

who was knocked down so long ago,

and

who took quite a while to get back up,

(actually 31 years to be precise)

is standing tall and happy today,

thanks to the mighty fine vintage clog aisles on Etsy!

that's right my 'clog loving' dearest readers,

the most beautiful, bright, perfectly sized,

secondhand Swedish clogs have found me.

to think, they were waiting out there in the world, sensing that one day Tif would be on her thrifty, handcrafted year.

that i would turn back to the path that leads to Clog heaven,

that i would long to hear the 'clippity clopping' of wooden souls upon the ground beneath

and

that i would go searching for some 'perfectly peachy' clogs to call my own again.

i'm so tres delighted with my new found friends that i crafted them a 'little sunshine sack' to match, to show them i'm commited to our long life together and so they may cut 'quite the dash' upon the streets of my home town...

she sees the peachiest of 'clog heaven' summers ahead for her and her little sweeties ~ Tif

footynote: now would not be the time to mention that little olive also loves my clogs, that little olive and her pesky ways has taken such a liking to my clogs that alas, they are now sporting a rather sad looking wound.

i am also thinking now would not be the time to confess at the point of discovering rather sad looking wound, i said some very wrongful things to little olive, such things as "i'm calling the hot dog factory" and other such unforgiveables when talking to a sausage dog, yes i am thinking now is not the time...

me and my glue sticking ways...

before i got sidetracked by

my thrift store saturday

my closet issues

and

my clog lusting ways

i had planned to bring you the thrilling adventures of moi and my glue stick.

ah yes, dearest readers i am in love with a glue stick and if you are sitting comfortably then i shall begin...

last week when i was looking for my 'lost groove' amongst the shelves of despair,

i rounded the corner from towels to furniture and blocking the aisle was a little table.

the little table spoke to me.

she told me of a time when she had been loved,

but alas was now forgotten.

she also informed me that she was a solid little table made of oak, no less.

(i'm not sure about the oak bit, but i didn't want to hurt her feelings on the matter so i just nodded, knowingly)

after she had finished her little 'please, please help me' speel,

i got down on my knees and looked at her under bits, shifted her around to see if all her legs were level and matching.

i then told her,

yes indeed she was a sturdy little table but it would appear i had no need for her solid ways and promptly pushed her back under the shelf, tucked out the way so i could get past.

now before you 'gasp!' and hang your heads, saddened to think the Tif you read about today is not the Tif you know so well. in my defense we must remember i had lost my groove at this point, i was drifting without direction, i was unable to give a little table the love she deserved and yes, i will admit it, i was heartless and cold.

on my return to the Shed, the little table haunted me,

she knew that i knew she had potential, a thing i respect.

she knew that i knew, she had shuffled out into the aisle purposefully to find me.

she knew that i knew, i needed her even though i didn't know it at the time.

("blimey Tif, this is another epic tale" i hear you exclaim

"i know and i haven't even got to the glue stick bit yet, so perhaps you may care to take your pea soup off the boil and come back, for you are in for a long haul" i kindly suggest)

i was left with no option.

i needed to go back,

i needed to find the little solid table,

i needed to beg her forgiveness

and

i needed to bring her home to Mossy Shed...

all the members of my clan had an opinion on the little table that stood in my studio waiting for her moment to shine.

i'm pleased to report, most were favorable.

they appreciated her solid ways and marveled at how one doesn't find a little oak table everyday at the thriftstore of such delicate proportions.

(ah yes, i feel i have brought them up well)

it was the oldest member of the Shed who let me down, his eyes alighting upon her, exclaiming "oh no Tif, not more crap! i can't move for crap these days. please why?"

i chose to ignore him, which i think in these circumstances is the best way to go. after all he does not possess what we do... alas he was not granted the 'gift of vision' when it comes to thrifty finds, bestowed upon us by the thrifty gods. yes we are the choosen ones and we must be kind to the folks in our lives without 'gifts' such as ours.

after four coats of glossy soft white paint, showing off her lovely little feet and underskirt, she appeared to need something else.

she needed something pretty on top.

i knew what i wished it to be, i wished it to be the most loveliest of vintage wallpapers but alas my stash is rather lacking, and no piece was large enough.

i pondered,

i procrastinated

and then

i had an epiphany

why yes indeedy, the very thing i needed was lurking in my drawers.

(ha! do you like that line, me too!)

armed with nothing more than a glue stick

(actually two, as one was rather low, so i had to rustle around in a few other drawers to locate another to finish the job)

origami paper

and a pencil

i got to work.

the edges were a little tricky, and they are certainly not perfect

but at the end of the day after much patience and a coat of varnish, my little table is looking rather lovely.

she has become a much needed extra surface for myself and Miss Ethel, fitting in quite nicely indeed.

now i'm not saying that a glue stick and origami paper is perhaps the most robust of surfaces, but in the case of my little table, where she will be gently used and cared for by myself, allowing no other clan member to treat her harshly, i'm thinking she has a long life ahead of her, being the solid little number made of oak, that she is...

she is thinking if only she could do the same with a thrift store dress she would be onto a winner ~ Tif