Treasures from Throwaways- or- Marge Gets Maniacal

Reuse is great for the environment. It can be a great test of your creativity, too. In Better Homes and Gardens "Treasures from Throwaways"-- circa 1976-- this book offers some clever little projects to recycle household items into artistic decor for your home...

But we'll talk about those next week. This week, we'll talk about the projects that perplex... shock... and would make you tell the well-meaning home-owner, "Wow, that's really... interesting, Marge."

Like when you're visiting Marge and she offers you a soda-pop. She watches you with keen eyes as you drink that cola right down. She waits for the last drops of the liquid to be consumed and then-- she snatches the can from you and runs off to her project room, laughing maniacally to herself.

"Er, what're you doing, Marge?" you ask suspiciously at the doorway. But then you look around her craft room and your question is answered.

Owls.

Tin can owls. There are hundreds of them there. Hundreds. Displayed in varying positions and styles. Barn owls... Snowy owls... Screech owls...

"Gee, Marge," you say. "You've been really, um, busy since the last time I saw you."

"I've got a whole case of soda cans to recycle," she tells you. "And I've found the best way to really use the owls to their advantage!... Come with me!"

Motioning, she leads you into the guest room. And there you see it.


The tin can owl mobile.

Marge turns on her heel and beams at you. "Don't you just love it?"

"That's really... impressive. Um, were there owls in that Hitchcock movie with Tippy Hedren, by any chance?"

You make a note to yourself not to ever stay overnight in Marge's guest room.

"Oh, and did I show you these great vases I made?" she asks. She leads you into her teen daughter's room and grins. "Can you guess what they were originally?"


"Aw, just go ahead and surprise me."

"Tennis ball cans!" she exclaims in delight.

"And those flowers?"

"Tissue paper, cardboard and wire!"

"Gee, Marge, does Chuck know you've converted all of his tennis ball cans into pop art vases?"

She waves it away. "He hasn't noticed yet. He's really into golfing at the moment. It'll be months before he wonders where his balls are. Oh-- but I've completed a few more projects, too."

"I can hardly wait."

"This was for Chuck and his buddies' poker night," she says, leading you into the den.


"Gosh, a beer can table how... different! Chuck must have gained a few pounds, drinking up all that beer."

"No, that was me. I had to. I wanted it to be a surprise. The Bud and Miller were okay, but the Schlitz was a little strong for my taste."

"You drank all that beer yourself? Well, this is starting to explain quite a bit."

She blinks wide blue eyes. "Do you think your husband will want one? Because I have some extra cans."

You assure Marge that you and your husband are pretty good on coffeetables right now, but you'll let her know if you decide to redecorate.

"Well, come see my new sitting room. You remember how boring it was before? I'd wanted something with a little more energy."


And she got it, you assure her.

"Gosh, it's like a scoreboard fell on a bunch of Pittsburgh Steelers fans," you say before you can stop yourself. "Very peppy!" you add, as a clever save.

"The table is supported by steel drums. I have some extras which we use for Music Nights."

"Oh, do you?" You hope your smile doesn't look too strained. The patterns in this room are starting to make you a little nauseous. Black and white numbers are swimming before your eyes. "Um-- I'm not feeling quite well. Could I go splash some cold water on my face?" you ask.

"Sure, the powder room is this way."


You press a cold wet washcloth to your temples as hundreds of magazine models stare at you, looking like they feel all fresh and breezy, and not ready to expel a whole can of cola. Some of the models are peeling off the walls a bit due to the room's moisture, you notice.

This certainly wasn't here before. Hadn't the bathroom been a simple powder blue not long ago? You're starting to get really worried about your dear friend Marge. You step from the bathroom no more refreshed than you were before.

And Marge is waiting.

"The magazines..." you say.

"Oh yes!" Marge says, eyes alight. "Isn't it divine? And when I get tired of seeing a particular cover, I just pull it off the wall and put another one in its place! So easy!"

"You got all of these ideas from a book, or something?"

"Oh, it was such a eye-opener to an entirely recyclable way of life!" Marge tells you. "It changed how I see simply everything!"

"It does seem that way," you agree.

"If you're feeling a little better, come and see what I did to Sally's room."


Stepping into Sally's room, you feel like you've fallen through the rabbit hole. You feel Marge might have almost hit on a doable style here, but there's just something about that armoire that bugs you.

It's the eyes. The eyes on that Alice character.


Alice seems to have gotten into the same beer Marge has. Or possibly something more potent.

"You look kind of pale," Marge says with concern. We'll go sit for a while in the family room."

You thank her for her concern and try to tell yourself, how bad could the sitting room be? Then you see the giant heating pipe snake.



"We don't use this room as much as I'd like," Marge admits. "I don't know why, but the kids actually won't come in here. Which is such a shame. I mean, look how cleverly this pipe transitions into an overhead light."

"Oh, is that what it is?" you ask, waiting a moment or two to see if the lighting bears its fangs and strikes. "...I hate to be such a nuisance today, but do you think I could, um, have a glass of water?"

"Sure. Of course there's soda or beer, as well. I could use a few more empty cans..."

"No, no. Just water would be perfect."

Marge bustles off to get you a glass of water. You can see a bit of the kitchen from here, and it appears on one wall she has made a mural of a tree using harvest-colored shag carpet remnants.


Your head pounds. You turn away from the berber foliage. And now you notice what's happened to the antique typewriter her dad had left her.


It looks like it was a casualty in a Fruit Stripe Gum factory explosion. You are a bit dizzy from the swirling colors as Marge returns with your water.

"I see you're admiring the typewriter," she says.

You take the water from her hand and chug it, then wipe your mouth on the back of your hand. You don't care about ladylike propriety anymore.

"Can the kids still do their homework on it?"

"Oh nooo," coos Marge, like the very thought of that is silly. "It's transformed beyond just a mere typewriter now."

"It has?"

"Why, yes! It's a note holder."

"A note holder..."

"Sure! Say I have something I need to tell Chuck. Well, I just write it on a slip of paper, tuck it into the typewriter, and he's sure to see it."

"So you don't, er, type the messages."

"As I said, it's found its higher purpose now. It doesn't need to do that silly typing anymore." Marge sounds a bit irritated at having to explain this, and a chill runs up and down your spine.

You hand Marge your empty water glass. "Thanks, Marge, for everything today. But I think I'm just going to go home and lie down."

"You mean you don't want to stay and join us for Family Music Night?" she asks. "We've made all of our own instruments. And we sure could use a steel drummer!"


"I'll have to pass. Maybe some other time."

You grab your purse, coat and hat and run for the station wagon as fast as you can without looking too suspicious. You break a heel on your way, but you just decide to leave it. Marge will put it to use, anyway...

Yes, indeed, Marge will put it to use.
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• For folks who missed out on last week's Treasure Box Wednesday, where we take a look at collector's books, click here.
• And last Sunday's post, Finding Vintage Romance in Today's Independent art discusses a few artists and photographers out there capturing the romance, beauty and whimsy with their creative eyes. Click here to read that.

And next week, we'll take a look at some really workable and clever trash-to-treasure ideas from the very same Better Homes and Gardens book we examined with Marge today.

Marge won't be joining us, incidentally. She's currently at "Happy Acres Convalescent Home for the Stressed and Strained."

Hope to see you next week!

Battier Homes and Gardens, 70s Style

Retina-burning color schemes, shag carpeting you could lose a small child in, and wall art with demonic influence... Such was the decor of the 70s. Here at The Thrift Shop Romantic, I always say you can learn a lot from the past. And in this case, it's sort of like learning from the lessons of World War II-- we need to understand what happened, so it never, ever happens again.

To be honest, the books that I'm about to show you did have some fairly liveable rooms in them. Rooms with, perhaps, trendy colors of the time, or with a distinctive 70s feel to them, but they were still rooms that were comfortable. Practical. The Everyhouse.

Then there are the ones I'll highlight today.


Open up the Better Homes and Gardens Decorating Book, and one of the first lessons you get is on color...


This is what chicken pox would look like if it were interpreted as a living room. The book tells us:

"Warm colors, the tangy tones of sun and earth, bring vitality and light to shadowy rooms. Red, yellow and orange, set against subtle wood and grass cloth sufraces, make this room bright, alive and exciting."

I'm not exactly sure where the grass cloth surfaces are here, but maybe it's just the vibrating glare that's caused me to miss them. All I see is a color scheme which makes a McDonald's play area look "restrained" and "understated." Note the lonely animal print pillow on the couch, echoing the circles in the wall art. It's like a poor leopard kitten got lost in the middle of the Mojave desert at sunset. And it's frightened.

Next we have our first example of questionable artwork...


The book reads as follows:

"Mushroom stools alternate lively hues in this scheme. When you choose cool colors like this, it's a good idea to warm them a bit with a touch of color from the sunny side of the spectrum."

Which is apparently where the malevolent, man-eating lion yarn-art in argyle comes in. Somehow the sly, hungry look on its face doesn't convey "sun" and warm good cheer to me.

Note how the narrowness of the ledge makes it impossible for it to be used for actual.. oh... sitting. Or leaning... And the stools are so high up under it, you probably couldn't get your legs under the ledge, anyway. Impractical AND mystifying.... just what the modern 70s woman looks for in decor!

Well, let's move onto the kiddies' room.


Here the caption reads:

"For the nursery set, but especially for the mother, this room is delightfully fresh."

Fresh, and already inhabited by trolls, it seems. Look- there's one now, coming to steal the baby away to their daisy-covered mound!...


Look at the expression on that doll's face. Any child growing up in this room is going to need serious therapy. And possibly allergy shots. I wonder what the color of that fabric is, "Pollen 109"? And dig that kelly green paint on the antique rocker. Yes, indeed, the Victorians were really big on woodwork the color of a billiard table, let me tell ya.

Well, maybe you're looking for new ideas for a zingy livingroom scheme. How about bringing your guests here?...


This room has it all. Orange, hot pink, lime green, florals and stripes... Won't your best chums Alice and Peggy just think this is to DIE FOR? Especially that wall art! Let's get a closer look at that, shall we?


Nothing says cutting-edge decor and good taste like a cartoon marker drawing of a sad, sad child. It's just one of those pieces that you never get tired of looking at.

And then there's this example of a den.

The caption urges us to look at the "striking window treatment," but me, I can't take my eyes off that carpet of dried tobbaccy. You can't even see where the chair meets the floor, the weeds are so high. Wait a moment, I'll get my push mower and be right back.

Ah, but even more treasures await in Creative Decorating on a Budget:


This book is after my own heart-- demonstrating creative ways to make your home look expensive without spending a lot of money. And how do they suggest we do that? Well, one way is here...


In the section "Furniture Flair at a Fraction of the Cost," they tell us the secret to the, er, successful room above:

"For table-top, cut a 60-inch circle out of a table tennis top: use leftover wood for shelf of serving buffet. Set table top on a 2-foot chimney flue liner and support with iron brackets. Cover laminated plastic."

Okay, so let me get this straight. You can't afford a table. So you buy a TABLE-TENNIS TABLE and cut a huge circle out of it. And also buy a chimney flue liner. And brackets. So, er, HOW is this cheaper?

Presumably if you already have a table tennis table, little Timmy and Susie are going to be pretty disappointed when they decide to renact Chris Everett or John McInroe's last match, and they're missing a giant sphere out of the center. And I'd be taking bets on who the first guest would be to fall off those wicker tuffets. I'm putting my money on Great-Aunt Celia after her third Pink Squirrel.

Lastly, we have a hand-made headboard, designed to bring us many nights of restful slumber...


Okay, I'm not resting. Is it just me or does this headboard look... violent? Like eventually there will be heads on those pikes?

Well, with visions of the Elizabethan justice system, that pretty much wraps up this Sunday's post.

• If you haven't already, check out last Treasure Box Wednesday, and some goodies from Ireland...
• And if ya have an extra moment, you might also get a laugh from the humor post on my other blog, Of Cabbages and Kings, where I relay the tale of a trip to Canada, and how I ended up surrounded by Mounties and with only one shoe. Click here for that.
  

Happy Spring to you, my friends! See you again soon.

Harvesting Memories of Mom

Happy Mother’s Day to all you hard-working Moms out there!

Ya know, whenever I had a bad day in high school, my own mother had a unique knack of offering just enough coffee and sympathy to make even earth-shattering teenage disappointments take on a more happy spin. Memories of that shot of caffeine, a listening ear and some optimism will always be dear to me.

My mother was also an amazing cook and hostess. She made everything from complex dishes like chicken kiev, to a rich and saucy Crock Pot chili which I once had the opportunity to make for HER-- and which thankfully received a gracious thumbs-up from my beloved Maternal Figure...

(I will share that recipe with YOU all at the end of this blog! I think Mom would have been simultaneously delighted and terrified at the idea of her chili recipe going global, nourishing distant families.)

But it’s funny, as I look around my HOME, I somehow think poor Mom would have been really distressed at all the sage, lavender, rose and lace.

Mom was a woman with simple tastes, and a deep devotion to 70s Early Americana. Which did not fade over time. She embraced those early 70s harvest colors-- orange, russet, goldenrod and avocado-- as part of a decorating Constitution, something tried, true, and only to be altered with rare reason.

For example, I remember when the original couch was worn beyond repair in the mid-eighties. My dear mother was forced to step from the inviting warmth of her Colonial Williamsburg cocoon and enter an MTV world of design choices-- one filled with space-age blacks, reds, grays and chromes.

I recall venturing through store after store with her on this mission to reclaim the golds, pumpkins, coffees and olives for the family--and trying throughout to explain the futility of thinking you can turn back the trends.

If she’d been questing for the Holy Grail instead of the Spirit of 1776, she might have had an easier go of it.

But eventually, she settled on a pale substitution for her seating at Sears. A three-seater of forest green, olive and orange, with a sculpted lily-pad pattern. There were no Liberty Bells in its print. Or hand-crafted barrels or American flags. No olive and orange eagles with their wings outstretched in harvest-colored pride. But we had scoured most of the state.

Mom knew when it was time to stop tilting at 18th century flaxwinders.

It would have to do, she determined. But the colonies had really taken a hit.

So the household moved on. Albeit begrudgingly and in ways so small, visitors to the house might not have noticed. The orange and mustard Colonial lampshade with all the bells and eagles was replaced with a more plain burlap shade. The pottery jug side lamps with the eagles on the base were exchanged for some pottery baskets the size of small island nations-- which were eventually covered in orange-and-green flowers that took hours to fill-in by hand.

You have to admire the woman’s dedication to her color palette.

Of course, it wasn’t something I spoke about much, given my mother’s passion for the harvest, but I kind of.... well... HATED orange.

Not only was it rooted in every corner of my home, but in our school colors as well. Put a girl with red hair in an orange gym uniform and just see how the ol’ opinion forms about the color.

And the colonial look-- well, considering every single year of my social studies education began with the building of the 13 colonies, I was about up to my ringing ears in Founding Fathers and Liberty Bells. I could no longer find the proper reverence for Mr. Revere. It was bound to happen.

So in my house today, nary an eagle or George Washington portrait is to be found. When my dad recently sold the family home, he gave me the black milk jug with the eagle and stars decals on it, which had sat in the entryway by the door for years. I promptly painted it over cream and now store my vintage parasols in it.

And Mom’s 70s singer sewing machine cabinet with the early American handles? It’s gotten a lick of shabby chic paint, and some glass knobs. It works as a side table in my guest room, with the sewing machine just waiting for its next big project.

Of course, I never meant the updates as a sign of disrespect. Just a way of accepting, and moving on.

But Mom, she still wouldn’t have liked it.

So I conclude with this. A week or so ago, I was strolling through the Goodwill. And there, in the housewares aisle, something familiar caught my eye...

Four plastic placemats just like the ones my mother used every day in the kitchen. Placemats with enormous yellow and orange flowers and bright olive-green leaves. I hadn’t thought of them in ages… and in retrospect, they seem a bit pop-art hip for Mom.

Perhaps it was the lure of the beloved harvest colors that had prompted her purchase.

Well, I stood in the aisle for a moment, just staring at those long-forgotten placemats. If Mom had been shopping with me, she would have pounced on them-- they were in so much better condition than the ones she’d had. The harvest would have continued on.

The placemats made me smile.

In fact, I kept thinking about those placemats over the course of the week. Thinking I should have at least taken a picture of them, for posterity. But when I went back to the Goodwill, camera in hand, they were gone.

I bet right now, they’re on someone else’s kitschy kitchen table. And maybe that table’s even avocado green. Or orange. And maybe they’re even having Mother’s Day dinner.

Hope you all have a wonderful week.

-----
Mom’s Chili

3 8 ounce cans of kidney beans
1 large can crushed Italian style tomatoes
3 8 ounce cans of Hunts Tomato Sauce
1 pound ground beef
One small sweet onion
Paprika
Chili powder
Cumin
Italian Seasoning
Parsley
Basil
Onion powder
Garlic powder
Parmesean shaker cheese

Dice small onion. Fry ground beef with chopped onion. Drain on paper towels to remove excess great. Add to Crockpot. Drain beans and add them to the beef. Add crushed tomatoes and tomato sauce. Add remaining ingredients aside from Parmesean cheese to taste. Cook over Low for 6-8 hours. About 15 minutes before serving, sprinkle in Parmesean cheese. Enjoy!