Simple Decorating Tips For a Vintage 4th of July  

Posted by Heidi in

I felt a vague sense of dissatisfaction when I opened my (one and only) box of 4th of July decor this year. (Compare this to my 4 Easter boxes, 12 Halloween boxes and 24 boxes of Christmas decor.) (Or don't, as I am sure you have far better things to do.) We almost always celebrate the 4th with family but this year we will be fending for ourselves. I realized that not only my decor was insufficient but all that fun stuff one uses to serve a festive meal was sadly lacking.

So is our budget.

I cudgeled my brain, pored over magazine photos (I especially love Victoria and Romantic Homes)and haunted the thrift stores for fetching, festive, frugal finds. I also came to a number of realizations, ones I am going to share with you. (Those of you who have already come to these conclusions can avert their eyes.)

If you hunt around your house for any and all things red, white or blue or that shouts "1776" or even old (or vintage) and gather them in one place, you have the makings for a very simple and free-free-free 4th of July decor. For example, the white and red baseball basking in the azure blue of the lobelia: add a cheapie flag (most likely already in your collection or 3 for $1 just about anywhere in the U.S. of A.) and it screams "July 4th". (I would have preferred a red croquet ball with white stripes but I didn't have one.)

You might already use a lot of red or white or blue in your everyday decor. Perhaps you once spent a great deal of time making crafty things out of fabric in just the right colors. Gather what you have in one place and you can make a very simple (and inexpensive) statement.



Check your garden for flowers that lend themselves to the color scheme.


If the simple look is one you're after, you needn't dye everything in a bath of red, white and blue. A touch here and there (along with a black piece that bespeaks Paul Revere) will do.



Don't fret if your red white or blue item is not American, or even English (it is the Mother Country, after all). This delightful cup and saucer says ooh la la Paris (as it was made and purchased in France, only, sadly, not by moi) but its dark blue and gold combined with the Colonial costumes (they call it "Georgian" in England--in France they call it ooh la la fashion of the past) (or so I assume) (never a safe thing to do) has Patriotic written all over it.



Check dollar stores and other discount party stores (don't forget thrift stores--last week I walked out of our local thrift store with a flag pillow in the shape of a star, a blue scarf covered with stars, a burlap flag that I made into a pillow and an Old Navy 4th of July kit full of rw&b crepe paper, stickers and other goodies, all for $4.32!) for items that will fit the theme. Star cookie cutters can be silver, plates can be plain white--they don't have to be fancy to look festive. Candy in the right colors are a fun way to decorate, too (if anyone finds red white and blue M&M's, pls.give me a holler!)



Think ahead and buy things on sale this year for next year. If you were really lucky, you did that last year and paid one cool buck for a $10 box of red white and blue paper lanterns (see above) WITH light cord which are now hanging in your yard. (Not that I'm bragging, or anything.)
However, nothing says Holiday like abundance. If you truly want to make a statement, the more, the better. Splurge and buy TWO packages of 3 flags for a dollar and wantonly display them all in one place. (Oh, the gluttony!)

When I pulled out my antique red and white china (Red Vista by Mason's) I realized that I could use my real silver forks, knives and spoons with it. I splurged and bought blue plastic cups at the dollar store (you might already have some) and filled a white classical looking vase with the fireworks we bought for the big night (though I use the term "fireworks" loosely. We are not allowed to have them in this neck of the woods so they are only dressed up versions of those New Year's champagne bottles filled with confetti and streamers). Decorating with food is also always a very good idea. Pictured is my gluten free yellow cake with strawberries, copious amounts of strawberry glaze and whipped cream. Yum!




One can never have too many pictures of Strawberry Shortcake, thus, therefore, and because . . .



When evening falls, one feels the need to be outside. Light up the darkness with more paper lanterns (plain white ones are cheapest and can be painted by the kiddios with water colors) which can be obtained much more cheaply than 3 for $10 if you shop ahead of time online. (You can use a string of white Christmas lights.) The one below is a Bethany Lowe design (I adore her stuff) that I bought at--are you ready?--the thrift store for next to nothing. Love it!



Bunting, like the one in the arch, is an absolute must and quite reasonably priced if you look hard enough.



My big splurge this year ($13) was fabric to slipcover my usual rose-strewn pillows in patriotic themes. It took less than an hour to make three pillow covers and I feel that they go a very long way towards making things festive in a Patriotic way. However you celebrate the 4th this year, I hope that it is fun, festive, yummy and safe!

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First Day of Summer--Arise and Rejoice!!!  

Posted by Heidi


Summer is an idyll of long, lazy days of bright flowers . . .

blue water . . .



and liquid sunshine.



It is also a time when all the children are home from school.
A time of adjustment.
A time of frustration.
Therefore--a time for new and punitive--seeming rules.
So far, the hammer of local law has come down on these things:
There shall be no wearing of annoying flip-flops in the house.
No exercising in the living room, esp. in the early A.M.
No music whatsoever: your choice might not be the choice of others.
No wathing of T.V. or talking AT ALL before all have arisen.
No eating in public spaces such as the kitchen, dining room or living room.
I wonder what rules the Middle Child will have for the rest of the family.
As for me, I'm feeling the pinch.

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Musings of a Hopeless Romantic Idealist  

Posted by Heidi

I am bitter about only one thing in life: the fact that I never found that perfect hairstyle (you know, the one that, if you can only find it, will surely make you out-right gorgeous?) before my medium-to-good looks peaked. (I am NOT happy about the defection of half of each, once lush, eyebrow, either.) Except for the lack of that perfect hairstyle, I can see the good in all lemons that have been tossed along my path (also excepting that eyebrow thing---something I consider to be pure wanton destruction with no upside whatsoever).

As a teenager, I had a powerful dream in which I and my husband and children were forced to leave the home that I loved (one can glean details from the house in the photo above which, I was surprised to learn, is the gardener’s cottage on the grounds of an enormous manor house I toured in Wales many years later) due to an earth-shattering event (in this case, a literal earthquake that destroyed our home) to live out our days in a dark, damp, but not entirely comfortless (again—surprised!) cave. The fact that this dream ended up being representative of my actual life (I was scared to death it would be and hoping it was not. Again—surprised!!!) says a lot about me, especially in light of my one (and a half) circumstance(s) over which I am bitter.

Clearly, it says that I am vain.

It also says that I am a hopeless romantic idealist. This idealism has gotten me into much trouble over the years and has made the people around me mighty uncomfortable, as well.

It is probably tempting for the uncomfortable ones to evaluate me and determine that it is “all my fault” for thinking the way I do. It’s not an entirely false statement; I can’t help that I was born an idealist yet, in spite of everything, I choose to remain one: I suspect I wouldn’t have had the courage to believe in the best, most true things in life if it weren’t for my endless optimism. Nor would I have had the strength to forge ahead along my path when things seemed most bleak without plain, old, romantic idealism.

Never having been truly cynical, I doubt I can accurately determine the truth of my feelings but I am pretty darn sure I would rather be an idealist who gets her heart broken again and again (and again) than a bitter, old, cynic (surely a cynic would have quailed at the sight of my future and the challenges it held—still holds) or one who protects oneself from any and all pain whatsoever--and at any cost. I would rather see the very best in people for as long as it takes for them to prove me wrong than assume the worst of everyone from the get-go. I am so willing to give all people every corner of my heart--even now when it is cram-full of scars and little of it left whole. Even to those who, together with my unrealistic expectations, made each painful cut.

This is why: I feel very strongly that if I had not been so over-the-top optimistic, I would have been utterly undone by the challenges of my life. Instead, in my old age, I am settling into balanced realism. As painful as it is, I am grateful. Grateful--even when I think about how the house in my dream represented options, choices—heavenly and rare ideal ones—and how most of my adult life has offered, at best, a choice between two evils.

As I trudge through my cave, one that seems to become narrower and narrower with each passing year, I. Am. Grateful.

And yet . . . sometimes, when the light and the sounds and the scent on the breeze are just right, the memory of a girl is brought to mind--one who believed all things were possible--and I cry salty tears of sorrow for the shattering loss of her dreams. (And her eyebrows---one half each.)

Read about our stay in a real castle--in California!--HERE

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In Which the Dragon Follows Me With Relentless Cruelty  

Posted by Heidi in

see Here There Be Dragons in the sidebar for parts one and two

You and your spouse take your children by the hands and run from the crumbling ruin of your house; run from your neighborhood, tossing dust and chickens and numerous small children to and fro in your wake, until you have passed through the gates of your village and into another. Madly, you flee from the truth but the dragon follows you everywhere. It’s as if you and yours are in its blood and vice versa. It smells you, a scent it knows as well as the stench of the scales enrobing its hoary skin--you have no hope of outsmarting it. Yet, it’s a truth you cannot swallow; it is too large and bitter and becomes lodged in your throat, denying you much needed air for your overworked lungs. And still you run, your emotions a raw mixture of fear, hope, anger and despair.

Your eldest child is the first to bear the brunt of the dragon’s fiery maw as it chases you down and roars its disapproval. Your son, through no fault of his own, is a bit slower than the rest of you, slower to move, to understand, to react—and quickest to be burned. He is also less able to cope with his wounds than one ought to be and your flight into Who Knows Where takes on a new focus: finding help for your near-mortally wounded firstborn. Very little time goes by before the next victim is burned, nearly as badly as the first--your spouse--the one who always brings up the rear and does all he/she can to protect the rest of you.

Numb with need, you run from one place to the next. Time and time again, hope envelopes you as you settle into a new environment. But the dragon lands once again on your roof, usually sooner than later, and you are forced to start over; to head out to find a new home b/c yours is once again in a smoldering heap, to barter to replace the charred remains of your clothing, to trade everything you have for a cart to carry the ones too wounded to walk.

In spite of the hardships, you are grateful for every place you’ve been, each mountain you have climbed, each person whom you have met in your travels. You have learned something from everything and all of it is useful in your quest. There are even some who are willing to brave the heat of the dragon's roar once or twice in order to give you succor. You will always treasure those people in your heart. But there comes a point when each of them stops coming back and plenty who would never consider approaching the House with the Dreaded Roof Dragon to begin with.

Once again on the move, you look at your beloved spouse and children, see the wounds dressed up with bandages, take in the pervasive odor of burn ointment, and finally know that you will never be rid of the dragon. Instead, as you trudge along, you wonder where you can go where there are people who can tolerate the destructive beast. A place where you do not overhear judgmental remarks made about you in the market place, such as: “They would have more means if they would simply settle down in one place.” and “They are mad to run so far and so long when crops need time to grow and mature.” Or “Why do they continually set their house on fire? Have they no common sense?”

Overwhelmed, you do your best to absorb the pain as, gasping for air, the cold, sharp steel of their words slithers into your heart. Surely people know you are better, smarter, wiser, more valiant than that? Surely they know that a roof dragon is almost one hundred percent unassailable and that God intended for us to have the kindness of one another in times of need?

And that’s when you realize the truth: they can’t credit the danger you face, the depth of your challenge, the quagmire of your need, because, to everyone but you, your dragon is quite simply . . . invisible.
(Thanks for the comments and emails--but I'm fine. This is a story decades in the making and I'm still ten years away from now in my story. But thanks! It means a lot!) (But, hey, as long as you're here, be sure to check out the post just previous to this one where I review The Road Show by Braden Bell. And then check out Braden's blog. He's going to be big.)

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The Road Show by Braden Bell  

Posted by Heidi in


What does one say when one is contacted via email by a complete and utter stranger who has written a book that needs promoting and was told by some biggie-wig in the LDS blogging world that your blog was one he ought to be sure to check into?



1. Shout “Pshaw!” into your computer screen?

2. Immediately commence composing a reply explaining how you aren’t really popular, just good at making it look as if you are, (in which case, you truly aren’t a good choice for book promotion)?

3. Melt into a pool of butter the likes of which Land O’Lakes has never seen?



(I did all three, but you already knew that.)

For those of you who weren’t previously hyper aware of this fact, I am woefully susceptible to flattery which is why, a number of email communiqués later in which I was mentally and emotionally “handled” (“manipulated” is far too evil a word to attach to this guy) with great skill, I agreed to do a review of said stranger’s book on my blog . . .
. . . even after making it pretty clear to him that I didn’t want to have anything to do with reviewing books on my blog b/c I am a total wimp who doesn’t want to lie but doesn’t want to hurt the feelings of others, either, and sometimes it just has to be one or the other . . .
. . .even after explaining to him how ever since I learned I was going to have a book between official published covers, my internal editor has been such a screaming meanie that I can’t even read fiction for my own personal pleasure without tossing the book across the room in disgust (Regency Gold by Marion Chesney excluded) . . .
. . . even after telling him that LDS fiction is SO not my thing (I am pretty sure I read Charly when in high school but it was b/c I was babysitting and bored and it was sitting there on the couch, those big eyes staring up at me through wisps of blonde bangs, and I loved it but hated the sequel and have never really read LDS fiction since) (I blame you, Jack Weyland) (though I’m pretty sure it’s my natural state of “deeply romantic idealist” that ruined Sam for me just as it has huge chunks of my life) and that surely there were plenty of other, more appropriate, choices for a stop on his book blog tour than me, myself and I.

Ummmmmmmm, where was I? Oh, yes! In spite of all of that, he still asked and I still said yes. Why? Because said stranger, heretofore to be known as (pay attention—you’re going to be hearing this name a whole lot more in the not too distant future) Braden Bell, is utterly charming and a shameless flatterer to boot, and b/c my susceptibility to flattery is a much larger flaw in my character than my rather recent inability to read a piece of fiction without my internal editor yelling in my head (which is actually getting better--thanks so much for asking). And you know what? I’m so glad I did!!!

(Official disclaimer: I have purposely been avoiding other reviews written about this book b/c I want mine to be utterly original even if it’s not (in which case, I don’t want to know about it) therefore these thoughts and comments are 110% mine alone (or not so alone, in which case, I am glad for Braden’s sake, who is—did I mention?—an utterly charming fellow who I am happy to be able to say “I knew him when”).

(Going into official book review mode, now.)

When I first heard the title “The Road Show”, I was expecting said book to be a comedy, because, let’s face it, what is there about a road show that isn’t a laugh a minute? It wasn’t until I saw the cover of the book that I got a good picture of what could be going on backstage and that it wasn’t going to be one of those “How the Ward Turns” kind of books (which I enjoy, by the way). I knew this was the author’s freshman publication and wasn’t exactly sure what I would be facing but wanted to have an open mind since it wasn’t so long ago that my freshman effort was published and I could really relate to what this author might be feeling.

My first reaction was one of relief. This guy knows how to hook the reader from paragraph one, how to paint a picture in the mind with deft strokes and how to write about LDS people without sounding as if it was written by someone with no other perspective than that of an LDS person (though, I had to kind of chuckle to myself that there was absolutely no swearing in this book even though a character in particular is involved in much deeper sin than the occasional expletive). (What can I say?--I wasn’t raised in Utah. That being said, I don’t swear, either.) Sensing that I was about to experience a highly enjoyable ride, I hunkered down and read the book from beginning to end in one sitting.

I don’t want to give away too much of this book b/c discovery of who the characters are is what this book is all about (and b/c I'm one of those who reads for many other reasons than "what the book is about" b/c I enjoy learning that as I read and am self-centered enough to assume everyone is like that). Therefore I will limit my comments to saying that:



1. this book is full of characters at least one of which every LDS person will be able to relate to in one way or another (and a story in which all believers of Christ and his mission here on earth will be drawn to, regardless of denomination)

2. if the characters were not drawn as specifically LDS, The Road Show would be the next The Christmas Box, complete with ensuing Hallmark Hall of Fame movie

3. the characters are so lifelike and relatable, they seem to jump from the page

4. it’s a Not To Be Missed Must Read book that is full of hope for one and all

5. I am particularly excited to read what Mr. Bell has in store for his next book.

Never heard of Braden Bell before now? Mark my words, it won’t be long before everyone in the LDS community will know his name.

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