In this project I was able to combine two of the things I love - the Finnabair technique (okay, I just started playing with it, but I already love it) and my Mother (I know my mother is a person, not a thing, and I love her as a person, but saying, "I was able to combine a technique I really like that may very well develope into a long-term relationship and a person whom I love" didn't have a great ring to it).
So here is my card (above), and it's the heaviest card I've ever made. I could never have mailed this in an envelope, but since I was sending a gift along with the card, it worked out great. This is a card designed to be put into a box with bubble pack.
Above is a seemingly unrelated thing that's in my guest bathroom. My friends and I spent a Saturday sanding down old fence tops, covering them with vintage wallpaper, sanding the wallpaper until it was all nice and "distressed," and attaching vintage bottles to make adorable hanging vases. That was an incredibly satisfying project! We even got to use the 1960's-era wallpaper sample book my husband found for me at a garage sale.
The hanging vase has hung in my bathroom for months . . . empty. So I went to Michaels a couple nights ago to find some appropriate fake flower to put in it. I found this old-fashioned looking rose, which turned out to be just the thing (plus it was 50% off!). But, of course, it didn't come like you see it in the picture. It was a much bigger, much fuller rose spray with lots of roses on it--roses pretty enough to ensure that they were not going to be just tossed out with the trash.
Back to the Mother's Day project: I took a piece of chipboard, 6-1/2" X 5", a pretty Prima stencil, and some Whipped Spackle and laid on some gorgeous texture.
Oh, that's where the other roses from that spray are going to go! I got out my Beacon's 3-in-1 glue that my friend, Shelly Hickox, suggested I try and started adding roses and leaves along the bottom of the chipboard. The Beacon's 3-in-1 is a lot gooier than I thought it would be. It's plenty thick enough to handle adding chunky stuff to other stuff, and it dries really quickly. On my last project I used hot glue, and this was definitely easier.
I added some more roses until I felt like I had the appropriate amount of roses that my mother would appreciate.
Then I started second guessing myself because, do you see this? How pretty is this just the way it is? Gorgeous old-fashioned-type roses on a grungy old piece of chipboard with flourished spackle? This would make a very cool Mother's Day card just the way it is.
But I continued on with my project.
Because I'm trying to be faithful to the Finnabair feel, I added some lace and some pearls. I started adding bits and pieces of stuff under and around the roses. Texture, texture, texture. It was so pretty!
Then I took that pretty, pretty piece, and started painting gesso all over it. Covered the whole thing. There was no turning back now. Actually, this looks kind of pretty too.
So, long-story short I sprayed a bunch of Tattered Angels Glimmer Mist all over it until I was happy with it. Then I added a bit of silver rub-on here and there to pump up the WOW factor.
Then I attached it to a 6-1/2" X 5" folded card and wrote a sweet note to my mother. Since the card front was way heavier than the card itself, I die cut an easel out of chipboard and attached that to the back. Now the closed card stands up pretty all by itself without falling over.
Here are some detail images:
And here is your story:
The Collector - Part II
(The Collector - Part I can be found in this post.)
Okay, so here's what happened. I'm a member of this really cool youth group--okay, it's not that great--well, parts of it are--I mean the people are okay, and, like,there's this really cute guy who comes on Sundays but not on Wednesdays. He was actually cuter before he cut his hair, but he's still a 7-1/2. But that's not the point.
So in order to go on this mission trip this summer, we have to raise money, which, to me, isn't fair, because why should we pay to help people? Right? We should get paid or at least rewarded with a fun trip. Can you say "beach"? Hellooooo!
So okay, we took a vote on how we were going to raise money, and this one girl, who is really annoying, suggests that we sell "services" to people in the neighborhood, like mowing the lawn, or washing windows, or babysitting, or feeding the elderly or something. Any everyone was, like, that's a really good idea, but I was not feeling it. Because why should we have to help people in order to raise money to help people? I don't get it.
And tell Carrie, the youth pastor, calls me out for being "unChristian" just because I was rolling my eyes. Uncool,Carrie!
So a couple months ago on a Saturday morning we divided into pairs and my friend (who for some reason I don't understand I'm supposed to call "Polly" in this story even though her name is really "Natalie") and I took the left-hand side of the street that the church is on.
There is nothing fun about knocking on the front door of somebody you don't know. You don't want to be there, and they probably think we're Jehovah's Witnesses or Mormons or something, which we're totally not. We're just Presbyterians. We weren't out to save souls, just to earn some money so we could do mission work.
The first house we went to the people weren't home. There were no cars in the driveway. That was good because they had a lot of weeds in the flower beds, and I was dreading having to pull weeds.
But the seconed house we went to, the people really were home, but they pretended not to be. There were two cars in thedriveway, and you know how you can kind of hear people trying to be quiet, but they're not very good at it. And I don't know why those people would try to avoid us, because I know them. I go to school with the girl who lives there, and she is totally lame and hangs out with loser friends who probably all do drugs. Not that I'm judging, because I don't do that, but come on. And she knows I think she's a loser because every time I see her I fake-cough into my hand, "Loser." But that's no reason to pretend you're not home when I come to your house trying to be charitable . . . for money.
Anyway the third house we went to a lady answered the door, and I said, "Hello. We're from the church down the street and we're looking for something to do."
"What?" Maybe she was hard of hearing.
I spoke a little louder, "The Presbyterian church with the steeple and the--whatchacallit--bell tower."
"I know which church. I'm not sure I understand why you're here. What are you doing?"
"I guess whatever you need us to do--within reason--in your house or your yard. You know, whatever."
"Oh . . . like a service project?"
"Yeah, except we want money. And, personally, I don't want to do anything really hard . . . but we could, you know, vaccuum or something for . . . $20 or whatever."
It was like she was totally dismissing us when she said she didn't have anything for us to do and closed the door. Whatever!!!
Then when we got back out to the sidewalk Natalie--I mean "Polly"-- was all, "What the heck was that?"
"I know," I said. "She was really rude!"
"No," she said. And then "Polly" was all up in my face about the fact that I had not explained what we were doing at all. And so I was like, "If you think you can do better, be my guest."
* * *
Hello, for the purposes of this story my name is Polly, and my best friend, who narrated the first part of this story, is going by the name of Emma. I know she sounds a bit flaky, but once you get to know her she's really funny and sweet. Well, maybe not "sweet," but she has a good heart really down deep. She's been my best friend ever since preschool, but sometimes she drives me crazy. I should never have let her talk to the people whose houses we were soliciting at. Making good first impressions is not her main priority.
So, anyway, at the fourth house we visited, I did all the talking, "Excuse me, ma'am. We're from the youth group at First Presbyterian Church just down the street. We're trying to raise money for our summer mission trip. Do you have any chores you would like for us to do for you? We can do weeding or housework, and we also have some guys in our group who can move things for you."
The look on the woman's face told me that I was a success as a spokesperson. She smiled and started to open the door to let us in. "Well, I would be happy to pay each of you $20 an hour for window washing and deep housecleaning." Woohoo, our first actual job! I started doing math: If we worked for 2 hours, that would be $40 each, for a total of $80! Excellent!
She started to open the door a bit wider, and I looked inside her house. She had lots and lots of stuff in there, lots of knick-knacks and things. Some of the stuff looked really beautiful, and I really hoped Emma didn't break anything. Even though there was a lot of stuff, you could tell that the house wasn't really dirty or even messy. Just . . . cluttered. Honestly, just that quick peak made me want to see what all she had in there.
Then she opened her mouth. Not the woman--Emma. I could not believe my ears when Emma leaned toward me and whispered--but not that quiet of a whisper--"Hoarder."
The woman's face went white. I swear I thought she was going to cry. I thought I was going to cry. How could Emma say that??? The woman backed away and closed the door.
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people living or dead is complete coincidence.