To DIY or Not to DIY, That is the Question

Well, ladies and gentlemen, we here at the little red house are entering into new and completely uncharted territory.  We are stepping into the land of DIY, or rather, falling headfirst, with a pair of chairs we happened to stumble across yesterday morning while out garage 'saleing'. 

It was our first free Saturday in a long long LONG time, and so we made a real Fayettevillain day of it.  The sun was shining brightly through our bedroom drapes, so we got up early, headed into town for some breakfast at Rick's Bakery (sausage rolls and freshly squeezed orange juice), and then drove around Wilson Park scoping out the best garage sales. 

We quickly spied this little pair from the street:

And I just knew they would be perfect!  They are rather trashed, so we got them for $10.  To be honest, I'm awful at haggling or bargaining.  The man said he would give us the pair for $10, and I immediately reached for the wallet :)  Really, I'm that terrible.  Heart on my sleeve, and whatnot.

So, now the plan (extremely tentative plan) is to DIY these guppies into some incredible beauties.  I would love a sweet tan natural material for the cushions, something like this Herringbone fabric from Hancocks (only $6ish a yard):

And then we would paint the wood a white that matches our oh so delectable Pottery Barn sofa material.  In shopping for material, I came across this fabric that I really love, and I could see buying some and making pillows for each chair.

If you are wondering just where Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum will call home, I'm thinking they'll find a nice little roost in front of the fireplace in the formal living room.  Not to worry though, we'll find a nice new home for the Camel chairs, either upstairs in my office, or... GASP! in the den.  I'm really considering completely rearranging the den to include some more seating (that is not for dogs, as they have totally taken over most of our sectional). 

Just don't tell Justin... he doesn't know yet :)

Here She Comes, Here She Comes

The month of June 2011 has included a lot of ups and a lot of downs in my life.  I'm typically a pretty even keeled and laid back person.  At the same time, I'm also a very emotional person.  At the beginning of June, my husband and I got to go to the most amazing small time musical festival, Wakarusa.  There were many amazing bands there, including Mumford & Sons, one of our favorites.  It was an incredibly time, with great music, as well as great heat.  It was terribly sweltering, so that led to very little clothing being worn.

Oh, Lord, would my Granny B never approve!

And from the highest high, I felt the lowest low.  While we were excitedly awaiting M&S time on stage, I received the worst news I could have imagined.  I had lost my Granny B, my mother's mother, my grandmother, and a wonderful woman.  The lady whom I only got to see maybe once a year growing up, but the times in between visits were punctuated with long telephone calls, with the ever faithful conversation partner Granny B, listening attentively to every word, uttering words of encouragement and love, and at the end of every phone call, she would sign off with "I love you sweety" and a smooch.  Her over-the-phone smooch held all the love in the world for me.  As I grew older and got into college, I was able to visit Granny more often, although these visits turned into nursing home visits.  They were too few and far between for me to really have made a difference for her, but every visit ended with a long session of holding her hand to my cheek and kissing it. 

I remember her smell, the way her perfume mixed with her almond lotion, the way she looked in her big silver earrings.  She was so wonderful, and there was so much left to learn from her.

What I would give to feel her hand against my face.  To smell her sweet smell.  To tell her how much she means to me.

I realized the day of her funeral how little I actually knew about my grandmother.  She had grown up with a family, gotten a job of her own, been successful, and made a huge impact on so many lives.

But to me, she was just Granny B.

And that was so much.  It was more than enough.  It was a lifeful of love and caring that I will never forget.

I love you, Granny B.