Five On Friday...Old And Blue

It's Friday again so I'm joining Amy at Love Made My Home for Five On Friday and Jann at Share Your Cup Thursday. I've chosen old and blue for my theme today.

One, this old blue mason jar has been in my stash for quite a while. So long that I don't even remember when I got it, but I'm sure it came from a garage sale some time in the 80's.  

The front says it was patented on Nov 30th in the 1800's. It's a little rough for wear on the top and a little cloudy, but a favorite none the less.

Two, this vintage blue strainer with perfectly chipped sides and bottom. I love its old skinny handles and all the holes in the bottom and sides. The blue vintage color is just about perfect to me. Have you noticed the ones they make these days have very few holes and do a poor job of draining?

Three, this old vintage blue-gray galvanized metal bin with blue faux flowers on the shelf. I don't know how old the galvanized metal bin is, but the faux flower arrangement in the bin is one I bought at Costco in 1991 or 1992. Yeah, that's 24 years ago and they've lasted a lot longer than any real ones I tried to grow.

Four, there's lots of blue in this old vintage family quilt from Wild Bill's side of the family. My mother-in-law is 90 now and she was a young girl when this one was made.

Five, these old vintage pillow shams I bought at a flea market meet down in McKinney several years ago. The shams were faded when I bought them, but I loved the material and the color too. I could've bought the quilt that matched them for just $10, but I wasn't smart enough to realize I could use all that material to make pillows or trim draperies and such. 

Well, that's my five! I've been searching the house for all things blue to put together a blue and white bedroom for the first time in many years. 

I wrote a while back about how, during the late 80's, I painted the whole house blue in a pre-divorce life and have shunned blue since then. I didn't realize how depressed I was (I even painted the kitchen blue) until a car crash in 1991 woke me up to the fact that you can't stay in a bad marriage for everyone else, you have to live for yourself -- no matter what.

Thanks for dropping by!

The 70's Called...

You say hoarder, I say Pack Rat. Yes, I tend to hold on to some things from days gone by. Here's my Levi's cut-offs from 1972. Are you old enough to remember the late Hippie days?

I grew up just North of San Francisco in a small town called Sonoma, which is in wine country. 

I lived in San Francisco the year after the "Summer of Love", but I was never a part of the Hippie culture there. Far from it! I worked "For The Man" at Bank of America, right downtown on the corner of Powell and Market, where the cable cars turned around.

My high school friend, Fayola (rhymes with crayola...don't judge) and I made $400 each at good ole B of A back then. We shared a furnished one bedroom apartment in the Noe Valley area, which cost us $400 a month. Yes, over half our monthly income each before taxes! That would scare the crap out of me now, but we weren't even fazed back then. San Francisco in 1968 was full of possibilities.

I joined the Air Force in May of 1969 looking for job opportunities. Yikes! That's almost 50 years ago. Anyway, a few years later in '72 I found myself reporting in to an AF base in Biloxi Mississippi for instructor training school. I had time on my hands so I started embroidering my Levi's cut-offs. I put my initials "S" and "J" on each pocket and the ever-so-popular-back-then daisy. 

 Do girls still wear guys jeans today? Somehow I don't think so, but that was all the rage back in my day. In fact, I don't think they even made Levis for girls until quite some time later. Guy's jeans are just what you wore back then.

I looked up the value of men's vintage 501's Levis jeans just out of curiosity last night. As usual, I was late to the party. 

 To be of significant value, among other things the old jeans need to have a large letter "E" as in "LEVI", not "Levi" like mine have. That change was made around 1970 as far as I could tell.

True to form, I didn't finish the embroidery project on the front. I think I'd planned on running the vine across to the last two flowers, but something (or someone) else must have gotten in the way.

If you're good with a needle, please don't critique my handiwork. This was the first project I probably ever did. Can you imagine how hard it is to sew through jeans?

Thanks for dropping by!

Wagon Wheels West

Salado (pronounced Sa-lay-doe) is down in central Texas where we used to live, and it's one of my favorite towns. Most of the buildings were built in the early 1800's, and it's still is a thriving little town.

I love all the old buildings and stuff you can still find in Salado. There was still a lot of original "early settler" things left around town the last time I was there. 

This old covered wagon is on the grounds of an old Inn. It still has the ribs that held the covering, but otherwise it's in pretty rough shape.

 The old wooden wheels are rusting up, along with all the rest of the metal holding the wood in place.

Don't think I'd trust these old "step-up's" any more, but I'm sure it was once secure and strong.

I always wonder who sat in the back on that hard wood floor? I'll bet they huddled under their homemade patchwork quilts and made what they used to call "pallets" with covers and quilts to protect their bums from the hard surface and any sharp splinters that may be sticking out.

I took these pictures back in 2011 when my camera was just a cheap point-and-shoot and even that was probably more than I could handle back then! I know the pictures are not the best quality, but wanted you to see how they put these old wagons together.

Most Texans drive pick-ups now, but the bed of the new-fangled trucks really aren't that much different in size than the back of this old wagon from decades gone by. Funny how some things never change.

Thanks for dropping by!

Amaze Me Monday

Bernideen's Home and Garden Party

Five On Friday - The 13th

Today being Friday the 13th, I thought I'd talk about that number. I'll be joining Love Made My Home for her Five On Friday blog party. Since I don't have any "13" related pictures, I threw in this one of an old covered wagon for interest.

First: The number 13 was our household's lucky number. My mother was born on May 13th (yes, her birthday is today), my father was born on December 13th, and they were married on August 13th. 

Second: I don't know if my mother was born on Friday the 13th, but indeed her birth was not considered lucky by her parents. She was a twin and the two of them were my grandparent's 12th and 13th children, born right with the Great Depression. She was named Betty and her twin brother was named Bill. Mom always said she stayed young by giving Bill all the birthdays. Uncle Bill died late last year and this will be mom's first birthday without him in 87 years.

Third: In 1969, my father's mother died in early December and, unfortunately, it worked out that she was buried on December 13th -- my father's birthday.

Fourth: During high school, I was taken with the study of weird things. I did my term papers on superstition and found out lots of interesting things. There's quite a few ideas on where the idea of 13 being an unlucky number came from, but most indicated it was because of the 13th person at the Last Supper bringing about the downfall of Jesus. Most people will tell you they're not superstitious, not knowing that a lot of our traditions came from superstition. For instance, did you have bridesmaids and groomsmen at your wedding? That tradition came about because people way back when believed they could trick the evil spirits by confusing them about who was the bride and groom. 

Fifth: When I was 13, the most tragic and lasting sorrow in my childhood happened. On November 22nd that year, President John F Kennedy was killed in Dallas. Like a lot of people, I took his death very hard. And things happened that weekend that changed the path of my life forever.

That's my five on Friday this week. Hope you don't run into any bad luck today. Stay safe, it's almost over.

Thanks for dropping by!

Seven Minutes To Motherhood

On this Mother's Day weekend, I've been thinking about the seven minutes between life and death that made our youngest daughter a mother. I prayed a lifetime in those seven minutes. I even heard Amazing Grace playing in my head and got a warm feeling that, against all odds at that moment, all would be OK.

I decided to do this post today because so many of my blogging friends are asking for prayers for friends and loved ones who are struggling with disease, cancers, or the death of someone close to them. I want them to know there is hope and that sometimes prayers do get answered. Sometimes we are flooded with Amazing Grace.

When Jaimee's daughter Lily was born a few weeks before Mother's Day seven years ago, baby Lily wasn't breathing. A nurse started working as hard as she could on the baby, but each minute that went by one of the medical team (who were working on complications with mama) would call out the time since birth. 
One minute...two minutes... three minutes...four minutes...

Someone in the room yelled, ring the emergency bell for help! Seconds later, in came a doctor (Dr Gray) in emergency-orange-colored scrubs. She shot to the baby's side and worked with all her heart...five minutes....six minutes... Under her breath, I heard Dr Gray say: "...come on baby, come on baby..." And just before the "seven minutes" call, like from way down deep in a well, we all heard a quiet little cry that meant the world to us.

After a day or so, mama could start to touch Lily through the armhole in the bassinet. Everyone warned Jaimee there might be complications that would last a life time. Here I am at five days, when I was able to hold Lily in the NICU.

Lily went home at the end of one week. She surprised everyone by overcoming the complications and thriving. Of course everyone wanted to love on her and kiss on her.

Everyone on the medical staff that day would be surprised to know that she has no lasting complications, despite their dire warnings.

Sometimes when we're visiting and Lily is not feeling well, she holds still for a little while, and I get to hold her and rock her again. It's then I'm reminded that prayers really do get answered.

Here's Lily playing cards with her Grampy a year or so ago. He was concentrating and giving it his all...Lily not so much.

Across the table from him, Lily was multi-tasking! She's ahead of her class in reading, writing, math, etc. Nothing holds her back.

I heard Dr Oz tell someone on a "miracles" show last week that people are often brain-dead after 5 minutes without breathing. I'm so glad that wonderful Dr Gray, wearing her emergency-orange-colored scrubs, was in the right place at the right time that day. 

And by the way, Dr Gray was the head of the Neonatal ICU on the 2nd floor below, and it was by the grace of God that she was walking by that room, clear up on the 3rd floor, that day. She told me later that something kept telling her to go up to the birthing wing on the 3rd floor. She walked up to the nurses station just as a call for help came from the room right across the hall. 

If you don't think prayers can be answered, just think about the chances of that day. That the one person in the hospital who was the most qualified to resuscitate a newborn, the top pediatrics doctor, was pulled by some unknown force to leave her duties in another part of the hospital and go upstairs and walk up to the nurses station right outside that room - - right at that moment! 

Amazing Grace. There's no other explanation for it. And the doctor's name, Dr Gray(ce), didn't escape me either. 

Thanks for dropping by and Happy Mother's Day!

Little Wall Rack

Last post I talked about this little wall rack that I've been torturing with paint, hammers, pliers...well, basically anything I can get my hands on. 

I planned to paint it white. In fact, I put a thin coat on it because I just couldn't stand this sweet little paint job it came with, bow and all. 

 Wow. The 80's called and wants this little shelf back!

The original price of $49.99 was still stenciled on the back. Far above the two dollars I paid for it at a garage sale.

So, last Friday I painted it with a coat of white, knocked that cutesy top do-dad off with a hammer, then used pliers to pull out the wire brads that held it in.

I said painting it white was the plan. And it was...until I saw this post today at the blog, Infuse With Liz. She featured a similar plate rack on her wall, which is painted black. Love it!

Infuse With Liz Blog

Now I'm thinking this little shelf needs to be black like the one Liz has. Your thoughts?

Thanks for dropping by!

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Bernideen's House and Garden Party