So, Tuesday is my birthday. By now, you all know I’m a tad eccentric. What would be my ultimate b-day gift? Well, if you happen to have an extra $85,000.00 lying around you don’t know what to do with, you could always buy me THIS. I am gaga for trolleys. Why? I love old stuff. I really, really love old stuff. Trolleys are great for tricking out in the Steampunk style as they already have great wood panels and brass accessories. This particular trolley comes with a potty. Very important for those of us who suffer from IBS.
Even though it’s called the party trolley, you know what I would do with it. That’s right, it becomes the tea trolley. yeah, baby! There I would go, puttering down the road, ding! ding!, stopping to have tea with people.
Heck, it would just even be a blast to drive the thing!
DING! DING!
Click any picture to enlarge.
In our cold, plastic filled world of technology, I surround myself with things of beauty, large, tea carts, and small, paper art, to remind myself of a time when things were not designed to look like a race car. This is one of the reasons why I love Steampunk so much. Would you like to sit down before a computer monitor and key board made with accents of brass and marble? I would. Would you like to type on keys from a Royal type writer instead of these square things, whose faces, on my keyboard at least, are fading? I would. Sometimes I write with a pen that I dip repeatedly into a tiny ink well. Scritch, scratch, dip. I imagine I’m sitting i n my parlor at my writing desk in my beautiful gauzy summer dress while I’m scratching away, occasionally pausing to sip tea from a thin china cup. If I had the resources, I’d hire a seamstress, I don’t sew, and have a wardrobe of fine Victorian and Edwardian outfits to wear. I wouldn’t care if people thought I was eccentric and odd. Maybe they are for not dressing this way. I’d dine by candle light every night being served by staff in white gloves. When it was time to go to bed, I’d dress in the softest white linen gown wrapped in a silk robe of green upon which would be embroidered gold peonies.
Okay, time to stop dreaming and head off to church. My family is coming over for Father’s Day this afternoon for a bbq.
A Gift of Tea from Me, originally uploaded by Kimberly Shaw Graphics.
To you and I, a teacup may be a vessel for a lovely hot beverage, a dessert cup, even a basin for a flower arrangement, for Kimberly Shaw, they are works of art that adorn her own works of art and appear on the most precious, heart touching stationary and cards, I think, the tea world has ever seen. Each card has a matching tea bag so that the recipient can imbibe in a cuppa while reading your words of congratulations, comfort and/or encouragement.
Why not visit her Flicker site where you can see how she grew from a one woman art/craft project at Christmas time, to a warehouse full of boxes of tea and cards designed and painted by her. I hope this post gives encouragement to someone out there embarking on a journey of turning a passion into a profit.
This picture taken from All Things Bright and Beautiful per this statement of permission. This is the color of pink from my dream
Please feel free to use any material from my posts. If you would kindly mention the original source where appropriate and link back to “All Things Bright and Beautiful” , I would really appreciate it.
Thank you!
I had a dream last night that I was touring a house that was for sale at the end of our street. Everything about it was what I would have wanted;bright and airy, built in hutches, wall length/height windows with filmy sheer curtain, and antiques and elegant furniture galore. There was one problem though. Everything was either solid pink or accented in pink. I love the color pink, but this was a garish pink. The walls were pink with white trim, the hutch was pink with white trim, the tables were white inlaid with pink scroll work. The best thing that was pink? The dinning room table was set in pink jasper ware. I wanted to scoop it all up and run out the door.
In the end, our friends in the dream who were showing us the house ended up buying it.
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Blue jasper ware. Two glasses and a vase way in back, or maybe it’s the vessel for whatever is to be poured into the glasses.
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If you see anything you’d like me to obtain for you in these pictures from the Antique Mall, please let me know and we will work something out.
Maybe it was all the sugar I ate yesterday, or having pizza two days in a row, or maybe it was having company which we rarely do. Anyway, man oh man did I have some weird dreams last night. Usually I’m too tired to remember my dreams. Tired because I spend a great deal of time that I could use sleeping, telling tech hubby to roll over and stop snoring and for heaven’s sake quit breathing on me!!! Ahem, yes, well last night or rather early this morning I was treated to some bizzarro sugar dreams.
1. I was traipsing across the Serengeti with a bunch of people I did not know, one of which had this huge weird automatic weapon he was using to annihilate the giant lion cubs that appeared over the horizon just at sunset. Then, the lion cubs turned into a herd of zebra and elephants at which he continued firing.
Then, we were trying to get away from those things form the movie, Tremors. Remember that movie? The original with Kevin Bacon?
In my dream, I watched in horror as the tremor worm ate the herd of animals. I tried climbing up a scrub bush but ended up just crouching down and watching as people who ran away, were hunted down and devoured.
I was eventually rescued by a helicopter. There was a black lady in the helicopter who was telling me I would have to do an act of service as punishment, but she didn’t tell me what it was I had done for which I needed to be punished. She was also telling the pilot she would pay him.
Finally, we set down and entered a building and went into a small room where another black lady lay in bed with the covers pulled up over her head. The first BL told me I’d have to clean the toilet which was gross, very gross. Then she pulled back the covers and said I’d have to take care of this lady who was covered in her own mess and so very despondent. I felt so sorry for her. She had obviously given up on life. The first BL then told the pilot that what I was doing was his payment. He wasn’t too happy about that and sat sulking. I told him, ’she can do whatever she wants. She told you she’d pay you, she just didn’t say how.’
Then, I woke up, rubbed tech hubby’s whiskers, and everything was alright again in the world. If you’re feeling down, go rub your husband’s morning whiskers. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel better. Perhaps because I have a husband’s whiskers to rub.