DIY Wall Art Tutorial

Today I'm going to pretend to be a cool, crafty DIY blogger and offer you a tutorial. Mostly because I totally made that awesome piece of art up there and I'm feeling a little full of myself right now, and want to share my creative genius with the world. 

So. To make your own distressed wall art, you will need:

• Wood. I used a pair of very old shelves that I've had in my garage forever, the hardware long since lost. Mine were each 9" x 40" (so side by side the piece is 18"x40") which was perfect to fill the huge, high-ceilinged empty spot above my mantle, but you can use whatever size you want to fit the space you need to fill. You can use old wood or new wood. Either way, you're going to beat the crap out of it before you're finished.
• Paint. I used cheap acrylic paint. Like the kind you can get at Wal-Mart for 97 cents a bottle? That kind. Use whatever paint you like to use. Maybe spray paint would have been easier; that did occur to me somewhere around my 4th coat. Also, possibly primer would have helped.
• Tools. Like, a hammer, some nails, or a drill and some screws or something. And a sander, or just sandpaper if you want to do this the hard way.
• A stencil. If you're like me and have a Silhouette Cameo, then you're cool and we can be friends. And also you can cut whatever kind of stencil you want. Mine is a shape I bought from the Silhouette Store. I used my Silhouette to cut it on regular old Con-Tact paper, the kind you line shelves with. My paper is patterned just because I had some laying around but clear would work too.
  
  You can also buy a stencil, or cut it out with an X-Acto knife, or whatever other stuff peasants without Silhouettes do. (I'm kidding. You're not a peasant. This Silhouette is going to my head. You should get one. Or just visit my Etsy shop and order a stencil. Seriously. I would do that for you.)

UPDATE: I cannot sell THIS exact shape, because I purchased the file way back when this post was new, long before I was in the decal business, and it's for personal use only. However, I have many other birdcages (and lots of other awesome stuff!) in my Etsy shop. Most are listed as vinyl decals, but any of them can be used as a stencil just like this! 

Con-Tact paper stencil

OK. So.

Step 1. I took the two old shelves and sanded them down. They had previously been stained so I had to sand all that off. I don't have a picture of that. Sorry. I mean, it's some wood being sanded. Use your imagination.

Step 2. I painted both boards turquoise. This is the color I want the shape to turn out, and it's the first color to go on the wood. Paint the edges, too.

I white-washed over my turquoise to weather it and dull it down a little because it was a little darker than I wanted.

Like this. Except imagine the boards are still two separate pieces, and the stencil isn't there yet.
Look, I'm not really a DIY blogger, ok? I forgot to take photos.

Bonus Step: Be sure to get some paint on the garage floor, your husband will love that.

Step 3. Next I nailed the boards together on the back with some scrap MDF we had in the garage. You could use screws if you want to get fancy like that.

They didn't line up perfectly, because they're old junky boards, but that's ok. 

Step 4. Next, I applied my contact paper stencil. You use the positive image, not the negative space, if that makes any sense. Because I want to cover the part I want to keep turquoise. Press down every edge very firmly. This part is important because you don't want paint to bleed under.

Step 5. I failed to photograph this part, but the next step is important: paint over the stencil with more turquoise. This is so if you DO get any bleeding edges, the color that bleeds under is the color you want under there. It seals the edges so the next color can't get under.

Step 6. Paint the entire thing white, or whatever color you want the background to be. This took several coats, and this is the point where I kind of wished I had spray paint. Honestly though it doesn't matter if it's perfect, as you're going to distress it later anyway. Just make sure the stencil in particular is well-covered, so you have a nice contrast when you peel it off.

The stencil is still under there.

Step 7. Remove the stencil. This is the point where I may have panicked a tiny bit. I could barely see the stencil, and it's a very intricate shape, so I was concerned about getting it off. But I dove in and found an edge, and it came off pretty easily. You should do this BEFORE it completely dries, so the paint doesn't peel up with it. It's messy. You can do it.

If the paint does peel a little, you can probably touch it up. I didn't bother because the sander would take care of it anyway. It's distressed, people!

Step 8. This is the fun part. Finally, after the stencil is up and the paint is totally dry, it's time to distress the entire thing. Take your sander and go at it with some fine-grain paper, concentrating on the edges. You've got that nice turquoise layer underneath the white, so when you go over it with the sander it reveals the color, and if you sand a little deeper it reveals the wood.

I also used a hammer to mar the wood, and pressed the sander down hard in a few spots to make it look nice and beat up.

VOILA! ART!

"Let Alone." Use it right.

"Let alone."

I keep seeing it used wrong and it. is. driving. me. nuts.

pics on Sodahead

PSA: "Let alone" does not mean "not even."

Here is a wrong usage: "I wouldn't follow you across the country, let alone down the street."

You could replace "let alone" here with a version of "not even": "I wouldn't follow you across the country, or even down the street." That would be correct.

That's not what "let alone" is for.

"Let alone" means "certainly not" or "especially not" or, perhaps most clearly, "much less." MUCH LESS. In other words, it's exactly the opposite of the above uses.

If you say "I wouldn't follow you across the country, much less down the street," what does that mean? I wouldn't follow you all the way across the country, probably, but I'm much less likely to follow you down the street? That's not what you mean to say, surely. You mean to make a contrast for emphasis...

"Why would I follow you all the way across the country? Dude. I wouldn't even follow you down the street!"

Correct usage: "I wouldn't follow you down the street, let alone across the country."

See? The first thing is minor...the second thing is major. It's a contrast. I wouldn't do the first thing, so I would be MUCH LESS likely to do the second, bigger version of that thing. I wouldn't EVEN follow you down the street...LET ALONE all the way across the country.

Stop using it backwards. It makes me crazy. I know you don't want to make me crazy, Internet. So stop it.

I'm here to help you stop making me crazy. You're welcome.

I hope those bubbles are nontoxic.

Spring has sprung. Happy April, everybody. 

May your bubble solution taste every bit as hilarious as ours.

Wordless Wednesday: First Haircut

18 months old.

The Monster's hair is extremely fine and somehow...transparent, but it was getting quite long and shaggy. He's not as bald as he looks, if that makes any sense at all.

Crazy flyaway hair (no...it was not windy. That's just how it looked).

Crazy sticky-out hair.
No amount of mom-spit could tame it.

I was on board with "a little trim around the ears."

But Daddy got clipper happy and now my baby has a buzz cut. Waaaaaaaaa.

(He's still cute.)

(I'm told it will grow back.)

(I'm not ready for this.)

(MY BABY.)

At this point, he's down with the clippers because they sound like a car.

BALD!!!

Somehow he still loves his father after this.

He was a champ. I was the one holding back tears.

Elf Revisited: Linking up with Blogging Bash

I'm linking up with Alison and Ado for the 1st Anniversary Blogging Bash (their first anniversaries, not mine). If you don't already read Alison at Mama Wants This! and Ado at The Mamalog, you should start now.

For their blogiversary, these ladies have asked us all to choose a favorite old post and link it up. I know, you'd prefer something new and exciting. Well, look, this is their party, ok? I'm just a guest. So deal with it.

I chose this, the stunning conclusion of my Elf on the Shelf drama from last winter. I'm not sure why, I just reread it and it made me laugh, so there you go.

It's part of a series of sorts, detailing my harrowing experience acquiring an Elf on the Shelf. It all began with my utter failure to to win a free Elf on the Shelf from Sara at The Periwinkle Papillon. You can read the complete story in the archives, if you're truly interested or if you're avoiding doing your job or something. Here.

But this is the happy ending. So here it is!

Simmer down. Elf acquired.

OK, you can all RELAX. I know, this has been weighing on your mind all weekend: are Alyssa's children being tormented by Gnarles the Zombie Baby Elf?? Well, they weren't. Calm down.

Grandma pulled through and discovered an Elf on our doorstep when she dropped by to bring us some cookies (seriously. She brought us cookies. She would be exactly like a cartoon Grandma, except that her husband baked them. Also they were leftover Halloween sugar cookies, mushed up to disguise the fact that they were meant to be pumpkins. So they were basically orange smoosh cookies).

Our Elf is named Jacob. The Princess tried to play it cool at first, like, eh, maybe he's a real Elf, maybe he's not, but then when she slept and he MOVED?! Totally. Convinced. "Oh, Jacob," she gushed when she discovered him swinging from the kitchen chandelier Saturday morning. "I justknew you were a real Elf! How did you get up there, you crazy Elf?!"

Jacob had brought with him a "make your own snowman ornament" craft kit, so we set about making our own snowman ornaments. We decided this was probably Jacob's way of telling us it was time to take down the Halloween decorations and put up some Christmas cheer, so we did just that.

Daddy heroically risked serious injury or death hanging lights on our very tall new house, climbing a ladder much higher than any he has climbed before. We discovered after he was done that the ladder has a 200 lb. weight limit. tHe O.G. is a little closer to, say, 235. But he lived! It's a Christmasmiracle! And the house looks fabulous!

Actually the house looks a little out of place, because we find ourselves living in a very, very nice neighborhood (as in, we're the only renters on the block, yo) and apparently there's an unspoken rule in very, very nice neighborhoods that you decorate with white lights only. tHe O.G. doesn't hang white lights. He just doesn't. That's not how tHe O.G. rolls. So there's our very, very nice (did I mention tall?) house in our very, very nice new neighborhood, enthusiastically draped corner to corner in furiously bright multicolored, blindingly, dazzlingly multicolored LED lights.

And the neighbors' houses in their demure and elegant white-lighted glory look down on us with dismay.

And we're cool with that.

Santa likes color, y'all. Everybody knows this.

Sunday morning we found Jacob the Elf had rather unwisely positioned himself on the playroom floor surrounded by blocks. After the Monster gleefully destroyed all of Jacob's towers and castles, he set his sights on the Elf himself, and I was forced to intervene. Now, if you're familiar with Elf on the Shelf lore, you know that touching the Elf is strictly verboten.

The Princess was torn: surely we should not move the Elf from his chosen resting place. On the other hand, would Jacob prefer a quick move to safety, or being chewed on by her Monster of a baby brother? So we opted for a quick, frantic, hot-potato move to safety, chanting "I'm sorry Jacob, I'm sorry Jacob, I'm sorry Jacob" all the way to the top of the refrigerator. We then informed Jacob that he needed to find higher resting spots from now on. This could be challenging. For Jacob.

This morning we found Jacob perched atop a speaker on the wall, clutching a tube of glitter glue. He'd added some bling to the big "Merry Christmas" sign the Princess had made to hang above the fireplace. Oh, that Jacob.

a poem for my daughter

(on her 6th birthday)

I'm almost surprised
to find your hand
is still delicate in mine
crisp paper bone
fingers
one by one
flutter wings
in the shelter of my palm
not seeking open sky
but content
to flutter in place for now
as you sing to the sun
your voice not a baby's
but a girl's.

10 Reasons it's Good to be my Mom's Kid: a Monday Listicle

I don't know that I've ever linked up with Monday Listicles before, but I usually hop over and lurk around. This week I knew I wanted to dedicate a post to my mom, and what do you know, Stasha had the perfect prompt: 10 reasons it's good to be a kid.

I'm going to tell you why I had a better childhood than you, because while it's good to be a kid, it's better to be MY mom's kid. Here are just a few pieces of evidence.

1. She taught me how to make the world's best popcorn. On the stove. With a pot and some oil and a LOT of butter. And we made it a lot, and ate it together.
2. She oversaw my early musical education: The Monkees. The Beatles. Elvis. Herman's Hermits. The Everly Brothers. Creedence Clearwater. The Beach Boys. This was the '80s, you guys, but she made sure I started at the beginning of rock'n'roll. 
3. We watched all 1,225 episodes of Dark Shadows together. With popcorn. We were down with vampires before it was cool.
4. Musicals! She introduced me to the genre and we still love it. Bye Bye Birdie, Meet Me in St. Louis, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Newsies. And we sang along. Whether the TV was on or not. Life in our house was a musical. I teased her about it, but come on. Who doesn't want to live in a musical?
5. We sang in the car, too.
6. Our house was always grand central station when I was a kid and teenager. Mom loved having a house full of kids, and my friends loved her. "Your mom is so cool!" I've been hearing it all my life, and now I hear it on Twitter from total strangers. Yeah, OK. My mom is SO cool.
7. She taught me how to read, and she showed me how to love it.
8. She told me I was a good writer before anybody else ever did.
9. She set a spiritual example that I'm still in awe of. In a difficult environment, with discouragement at every turn, she managed to raise two strong, intelligent, educated Christian children who know what we believe and why we believe it.
10. She's my best friend, and I owe all my awesomeness to her.

Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you all the way to the planit jopudr in ol my hrte.

For those not in the know: this wonderful woman I call Mom is the blogger at Commonplace Crazy, and @CynthiaMeents on Twitter. Head over today and wish her a happy birthday.