This Vintage Chica

Reflections

This is a shot of the mirror in my Papaw's bedroom.  While visiting in Texas this past week I was lucky, oh so lucky, to have gotten to visit with him twice.  Its always difficult to talk while you are trying to keep three rowdy little boys busy and relatively quiet...not an easy task my friends.

But he and my Grammer are pretty special people to me.

I can't remember why I went back to this room now.  But I found it interesting the three photos that he had stuck in the top of his mirror.  I think they pretty much some up my vision of him.

::The first one is of an airplane.  He was a pilot for many years.  When he started the tractor, with us aboard, he would make us say "contact" before he would turn the tractor key...like we were starting a plane.

::The second is of he and a cow when he was a little boy.  He raised cows for many years too.  Some of my fondest memories of their house was visiting the cows. 

::And finally, the last photo is a snapshot of my grandfather's grandparents.

I've been reflecting a lot on this past year too and working on a bit of a month by month recap with a few more photos.

Maybe I'll get it finished tomorrow.  But for now I'm thinking about what three photos will be on my mirror 50 years from now.

What are you reflecting on today?

I'm OK with Oklahoma

We live on the East Coast.  But when people ask, as they always do in a military town, "Where ya' from?" I say proudly I'm from Texas...and yes Texas is home to me and always will be.  My parents live there, my grandparents, all of my aunts and uncles and cousins. 

Sometimes I don't like to admit it, but a good part of my soul lives in Oklahoma too. 

We moved from Texas to Oklahoma when I was 7.  When we were kids we used to make fun of the state because the Oklahoma license plate bragged that "Oklahoma is OK".  Who wants to belong to a state that celebrates mediocrity?  I don't know for sure if the license plates still say Oklahoma is OK or not.

But truth is truth.    I graduated high school from there and even went to college in Stillwater.  Yep, I'm an Aggie!  My first little rent house and my first real job after college were both in the Sooner State.  I lived there until I moved to Virginia and got married...that's 19 years I was a Sooner.

Did you know the red bud tree is the Oklahoma state tree?  And mistletoe is the state flower?  That's what two semesters of Oklahoma History in 9th grade will teach you.  I guess some of what I learned stuck.  Today on our nature walk, the boys spotted a red bud tree far ahead of us and asked what it was.  They aren't hard to spot.  Their bright fuscia blossoms pop right out at you against the other browns and greens of the other trees.

But today, after the many years since living in Oklahoma, I didn't think about mediocrity when I saw the red bud.  I thought about Oklahoma and the red buds with fond memories of growing up in communities that were safe.  And of people who help each other when they are down.  You know, salt of the earth types who work hard and go to church on Sunday.  I thought about my brother and his kiddos...another one on the way.  S's sister and her kids.  My good friends from college.

Maybe this is a sign that Im growing up a bit.  Or is it that its been so long now that I am forgetting all of the red dirt and tornadoes that go with it.  Either way, I smiled today when I saw the red buds in bloom.

ties that bind

I finished Amanda's book late last night. If you are a reader of her Soulemama blog, you will be very happy to know her book has the same "having a chat over coffee" feel to it. It is filled with some of my favorite projects she has shared previously, plus many new ones.

But the main idea I am walking away with is how handcrafts tie the generations together...especially us women. I found my mind wandering this morning to thoughts of my dad's mom, my Grandmother Hays, who sewed and crocheted afghans. She made me pretty nightgowns and matching Christmas outfits for me and my brother. She taught me how to single crochet. And my Grandmother Williams (hi grammer!) who showed me how to make rag rugs from scraps. She also taught me how to clean a fish...but that is a post for another time.

It made me think about my mother, who is an amazing seamstress. In fact, so good she made most of my prom dresses and even my wedding dress. She is the one who taught me to sew (or tried to).

In typical Eren fashion, my first sewing project was a skirt pattern way too advanced for my new skills - complete with pockets and a zipper. She tried to talk me into a more simple pattern that had an easy elastic casing at the top. But I was too cool for elastic! I couldn't show up to 6th grade wearing an elastic waist skirt and exclaim "Look what I made!" No way, Mom!

I'm not sure how my mother remembers this story, but I remember it being pretty much a nightmare. I wasn't the straightest sewer ever to chair up to a machine. And she made me rip out each seam that didn't meet her high standards! She probably remembers it something like an impatient young girl wanting to be an expert at something without the effort it required....who, me?

Needless to say, she tried her best to help me. Explaining why it was important to be so exact. Now that I am participating in this little quilting bee, I get it. Mom...twenty something years later...I GET IT!

Passing down a skill like crochet or sewing connects us of who we are and where we have come from. It ties us to the amazing women who have come before us. Women who also had little ones pulling at their aprons asking for juice. Women who also had to tend a garden, do the laundry and take a meal to a sick neighbor.

So Amanda's book has me feeling a bit nostalgic today. And it moved me to get out five unfinished Dresden plate quilt pieces that I brought home with me last summer. They were with some patterns and fabric of my great-grandmother Hays's. So, we are assuming they were hers. I have laid them all out and carefully ironed them thinking all the while about their original purpose. Each one is amazing in itself. And am now dreaming up ways to use them in our home.

Thank you Amanda for your book! For reminding us how handcrafts not only bind us to our families but to eachother.  And even more, thank you Grandmother Hays. Thank you Grammer. And thank you Mom! I am who I am because of you all.

a tale of two mercantiles

I always feel a little bit guilty when I blog a post that is a bit of a downer like the last one.  But, I can't have you all thinking that my life is all sunshine and yellow roses, now can I?  No, indeed.  Life happens here too.  And although I try to keep everything pretty upbeat generally, the stresses and strains of it all seep in to my blogging as well.

And today is another day of juggling five balls at once and trying to be flexible.  I was working on another recipe post today, but well...its a busy day with starting to get all of our found treasures together and packed up.  The process of boxing our belonging up has begun in preparation for the 2-3 day trek to Virginia on Thursday morning.  So, I don't think I will be getting much cooking and pretty photo taking done this morning.  Boy has the time flown by.

I think I'll set up the recipes to post automatically while we are on the road, so that I don't have to worry about posting then.  Because I know for a fact that if I try to post via the wireless connection, something will happen to prevent it.  I know it for a fact!  It always seems to happen that way, doesn't it?    So I'm just not setting myself up.

Instead, how about a view of my mother's antique shops today?  She has two very different, but similar antique shops.  There is the first shop, County Mercantile that opened up on York Street seven years ago.  I has mostly western items and primitives.  Lots of cowboys, western dishes, ranch oak furniture, hides (yes, animal hides), and some great vintage cowboy kiddo books, costumes, toys, and the like.  If you ever want to do a little boy's room in a cowboy theme (or a girl's room in cowgirls) she would be a great resource, because has some great decorating pieces.

I guess running just one shop didn't keep her busy enough, because a year or so ago she opened Main Street Mercantile just two doors down from County Mercantile.  The new shop has a little bit of a different feel to it.  The furniture in this shop is a little "fancier".  She has more of a shabby chic vibe there and has also added some jewelry.  She has a great mix of newer gift items mixed with her old pieces for a really fun look.  This shop also has a "to die for" fabric room with lots of great vintage fabrics plus some of my A. Henry and Moda favorites, great tickings and chenilles.  If you are ever looking for cowboy/cowgirl fabrics, her fabric room rivals anything you would find in Ft. Worth or Dallas.  Moda has even bought several of her vintage fabrics to reproduce.

If you are ever in the area, stop by.  Or if you have seen something that you really like and need more information, email me and I'll shoot you her phone number.  It really is fun having all of this to browse through while we visit she and my Dad.  But don't for a minute think I get to just pick and choose anything I want from her shops to take home.  No, no, no!  She is a shrewd business woman with years of corporate retail experience.  I have to pay for every single thing I bring home.  I'm sure she gives me a little discount of some sort, but we have a running tally of what I owe her at this point.

Mom, I think this blog post counts as at least $500 of free advertising for you, so do you think we can call it all even?  Please?  If not, I might have to work in the fabric room cutting fabric for a few more weeks until my bill is paid.  Love you Mom!  And so proud of what all you have accomplished. 

**if all of these photos haven't been enough, if you want to see more visit the flickr set**

pure junking joy!

junking joy!, originally uploaded by thisvintagechica.

Yesterday was hot, hot, hot here in Texas! The humidity was a steamy 85% and my mom and I already felt sticky by 9 a.m as we left the house. But Aunt Karen had offered to watch the boys and take them to Ft. Worth to see the new Shrek movie giving my mom and I some needed one on one time, so we prepared for a day of junking. And not just an ordinary browse through the goodwill kind of junking...no, this was a special day. A day that would require close toed shoes, clothes that we didn't mind getting grubby, and possibly gloves. With water bottles in hand, we headed to Mineral Wells...a neat (although a bit run down) little town full of history.

If you have ever wondered how antique dealers get the best deals, the real secret is that they have connections. As the old saying goes, its not what you know, but who you know. And luckily my mother shared one of her secret connections with me yesterday. Joann's shop used to be a lumber yard, but she is slowly transforming it to a real gem of an antique shop. She mostly sells to dealers...and luckily to daughters of dealers.

Joann said she was pretty picked over. But if that was the case, I would have hated to see how much we would have found a few weeks ago. Because I found more than my tired, hot little brain could process. Aisle after aisle of vintage booty...dishes, linens, books, furniture...all at incredible prices. And many pieces were half off!

My mom was ahead of me most of the time being a much more seasoned junker than myself. And it was hard for me to stay focused looking for things on my list while listening to her call out items that she was finding that I might be interested in. But how great to have someone along who already knows your tastes and serves as a second pair of eyes...especially when there was so much eye candy to behold.

And then Joann mentioned that she had a friend names Mark who had a shop before. My mom had met Mark before at Joann's shop. Mark has an antique shop in downtown Mineral Wells too. But he had not been open in quite sometime. But to our luck Joann mentioned that Mark would be at his shop today working and possibly she could "get us in" before he officially opened again.
My mom and I looked at each other with the same exactly look of "can we possibly be dreaming" as sweat was dripping down our backs.

Mark's shop was...well, heaven. Packed to the ceiling with vintage Christmas decorations, kid's books, linens, western boots, old postcards, 50's chrome kitchen tables, and more, and more, and more. Now, Mark's prices were not near as good as Joann's, so we had to deal a little bit. But its always fun to haggle a little, isn't it? There was no air conditioning in his building and at one time I thought Mom was going to fall out from pure junk induced heat exhaustion. My mom found more at Mark's than I did, but we both decided that it was most definitely a place that will require a second visit on a day that was not 96 degrees Fahrenheit.

Another day of junking joy (heat and all)! After yesterday I have concluded that I would be in big, big trouble if I lived here permanently. S, count your blessings we will be in Virginia Beach at the new house in a few days.

P.S.  The pile of jumbled fabric (the second photo) are all aprons and will be blogged at The Apronista tomorrow with individual apron photos and descriptions.  Stay tuned, the story goes on.

under the lights

under the lights, originally uploaded by thisvintagechica.

The rodeo on Thursday night was too much fun! We got there early enough to walk around and see the animals before finding our seats. It had been hot, hot, hot earlier that day - that steamy hot still right before it rains. But as the wind picked up and the rain began, it it cooled off nicely. I was able to wear my grandmother's shirt. Yes, I did get it hemmed.  Several of you asked to see me IN the shirt, so here you go.  And the hat is one that my mom keeps around for the boys to play with, but it fit, so I wore it too.

I hand stitched the hem instead of getting my mother's machine out. My grandmother had hand stitched it many years before and I wanted to finish the hem in the same way. It was the first sewing I have done in more than two weeks. It felt good and I like hand sewing more than I thought I would. Very good therapy indeed.

For those of you who have never been to a rodeo in person, I thought I might give you a little taste of this part of Americana. Our rodeo here in Weatherford is put on by an organization called the Parker County Sheriff's Posse. This organization was started in 1947 as one that would be typically Texan that could, would, and has to this day preserved the southern flavored Western traditions of this part of the country. My grandfather was a founding member and elected as the first captain.



As the rodeo opens a cowgirl presents the U.S. flag and it is ridden around the arena as everyone stands and cowboys remove their hats. Then all of the participants, the cowgirls, cowboys, and the posse members ride parade style through the arena in an S pattern. Cowboy Rick (a childhood friend of my Dad) was riding in the grand entry and I was able to shoot a photo of him as he came around the far corner, tie flying and all. Then The Star Spangled Banner is sung and the rodeo begins!



The boys loved the rodeo clown who kept calling the bulls back to play with him by saying "here kitty, kitty". Ian and Zane were laughing so hard popcorn was flying out of their mouths.



This is a photo of the pickup men. After a cowboy is finished with his bull ride (if he hasn't been bucked off) they come up next to him on their horses. After the cowboy frees his hand, he wraps his arms around the pickup man's waist and lowers himself safely off the bull. At least that is how it is supposed to work. Sometimes the poor rider grabs ahold of the pickup man's saddle horn or the poor horse's mane in order to avoid being pulled under the bull. In the event the bull does not want to leave the arena, the pickup men rope is horns and provide him with a guided tour to the exit gate.

The bull riding was their favorite event by far, but we also got to watch team roping, barrel racing, calf roping and bronc riding. A new even that was added since I last went to the rodeo was mutton busting. This event is for kiddos and involves strapping them to a lamb (with helmet and pads of course) and then smacking the backside of the lamb just as the chute opens. Similar to bronc riding, but on a smaller scale the poor kid holds on as long as he can until sliding off and landing in the dust. Each kid emerged very dirty, but with huge smiles on their faces. We liked this event a lot and hopefully they will continue to include it.



One other even that munchkins are invited to join is called a goat/calf scramble. This is where they tie a ribbon onto the tail of a goat (for ages 4-6 years) or a calf (for ages 6-12) and then turn a pack of kids loose to chase the calf. Whoever returns the ribbon to the official wins. Ian decided he would participate in the goat scramble, but Zane just wanted to yell "GO IAN" from the stands. Wyatt cried the whole time because he wanted to go with Ian, but was too young. Ian went all by himself in a huge mass of other kids and did great, although he did not get the ribbon. He was a tad bit upset, but when I said that I was proud of him for even wanting to try it and that he and I could go get some cotton candy, the tears welling up in his disappointed eyes were replaced with a giant grin.



Ian is the kid in the red striped shirt in the middle. 

After the rodeo was all over, we went out back by the horse stalls to visit with Cowboy Rick and his gorgeous black horse, Martin Luther. According to Cowboy Rick, Martin Luther's previous name was a not very nice word.  So he changed his name to one that was quite the opposite, but much more deserving of a horse of his caliber.

If you would like to see some more photos of this rodeo...some really wonderful photos, you can check out this set by freelance photographer, David Kozlowski over on flickr.  He did a wonderful job of capturing every little detail that makes this rodeo so special. 

A great time was had by all. But I think the one who enjoyed it the most was my Dad, who was able to share a bit of his history with my boys.

meet my grandad

my granddad, originally uploaded by thisvintagechica.

This is my grand dad, grand daddy as I called him most of the time. His name was Aaron Hays. His mother pronounced Aaron with a long a sound. I don't know why, but people who knew him well pronounced his name that way too. And I always knew his really close friends by how they pronounced his name. My mother loved the name Aaron (Erin) for a girl and named me after him. I love being named after my grand father.

This photo of him leading the rodeo parade hangs in my parents great room and I love it so much because this is exactly how I remember him. With a huge smile on his face and on a quarter horse. He loved, loved horses and people, and hot sauce, football, and this ranch my parents now live on.  And I think he is one of the many people to whom I owe my love of bartering and trading.  He was always trading horses and autos, even trading tomatoes from his garden for this or that.

In his day he broke horses by running them in the creek feeling it was much safer for them both. He was an excellent horseman and raised cutting horses for more than 30 years. *cutting horses are highly trained horses used for "cutting" a single cow or calf out of a herd for doctoring or branding* He also played football for the 1929 TCU Hornedfrogs when they won the 1926 Southwest Conference Championship. He always said there were many parallels between football and horses although now I wish I had asked what those they were.

One of my favorite stories about him is one my grandmother told many times. He was not much of a church going man before they married, although his family had ties to the Presbyterian Church. And she was a very devout Southern Baptist, her grandfather even being a minster at one time. She was not sure if she should marry him as her faith was very important to her. So she made him a deal. If he promised to attended the Presbyterian Church with her every Sunday, she would agreed to marry him. He agreed, they were married and he went to church with her every single Sunday except Super Bowl Sunday. He agreed and even learned to enjoy it he said.

He never called anyone by their real name and made up nicknames for most everyone he liked. He called my grandmother "Mother" or "Lady H" or Mrs. Hays, never by her first name. He called my brother "little buddy" or RT. And he called me "little lady" or "half pint". I love it when he called me "half pint" as I was a huge Laura Ingalls fan.

He has been gone for many years now, having died when I was probably 8 or so. But I remember him extremely well and so grateful for the memories and the lessons he taught me.

(side note for my Grammer who reads my blog posts) Hi Grammer!  Todays post should have been about you as today is your official birthday.  I hope you enjoyed your birthday lunch yesterday, the boys and I sure did.  Hutches homemade fruit pies are so yummy that we had the two we brought home with us for breakfast this morning...shhhhh!  Love you and hope you are having a good day.  Your post is coming...I promise.

feedsacks found

vintage yo-yo bunny, originally uploaded by thisvintagechica.

The Cattle Barns is one of my favorite places to visit in Ft. Worth...and a must for my Mom and I when I visit. My mother is the perfect junking partner...perfect. First of all she has a great eye. She spotted this little yo-yo bunny from about 10 yards away in this booth. I don't know if that talent can be taught...but I am trying to learn. She held the little bunny up, made up of lots of different scrap fabrics, and asked if I liked him. Of course! was my response as I quickly stashed him in the bend of my arm so that no one else would see him. He was all of $4 and I think he will have a new home in my craft room in VA.

Oh, and the booth spaces are literally animal stalls.  And of course they are cleaned out.  During the summer, the flea market actually moves from the pig barn to the cow barn to the sheep barn as animal shows need their respective buildings.  Kind of funny when you think about it.

The second reason I love junking with my Mom is that she is a wealth of information. When I picked up this piece of fabric at one of the stalls down the middle row, I asked her if it was what I thought it was...thinking it might be a feedsack print. She showed me how to open up the fabric and hold it up to the light to spot the tiny holes left from where the feedsack was held together with heavy cotton string. And yes, we found the row of holes and it is in fact a full feedsack found for $1.

My mom is also great to go rummaging with because she knows almost all of the vendors by name and we get great deals. We found several more feedsack prints at one of the last stalls of the day... when the woman put together what my mom was buying and the feedsacks and aprons I was buying she said I could have my finds for only $10! Ten dollars for 6 aprons and a stack of feedsacks. I couldn't hand over th money fast enough. You can see more photos over on flickr.

And the final reason I love junking with my Mom is that we have similar, but very different styles. My mother is more traditional and definitely leans toward more rustic and western trends and lots of furniture to resell at her shop. And my rekindled domestic obsession has me on the hunt for aprons, fabrics and kids books. Without words, almost instinctively, head towards opposite sides of the booth and then pick up and show each other our finds. I grew up as a kid in auction houses, antique stores and junk shops, so I have had lots of training I tell you. Perfect partners we are.

Thanks mom for a great morning! Are you ready to go back next Sunday morning?

back in the saddle

prairie rain, originally uploaded by thisvintagechica.

Apparently, I needed a little blogging break. Sorry for the long period of non-posting. But my camera is broken (as previously reported) and the laptop needed to stay in Wisconsin with S for one reason or another and we have been in "the sticks" since leaving. While heading South we stopped off in Missouri at Big Cedar Lodge for a little family reunion and our cell phones were not even getting service.

So, a little unplanned technology break was in order. And I was able to fully realize how much I depend on the internet for my daily dose of blog updates, email, and on line news.  Hi, my name is Eren, and I am an internet junkie.

But we are in Texas now at my parents home on the ranch that my paternal grandparents built.  And being welcomed by the warm prairie rain...an amazing sight, smell and feeling to the folks in this part of the country after several years of drought. The wildflowers here are simply breathtaking, my mom's shop is full of treasure I want to show you, I've been pouring over some of my grandmothers recipes, and I'm sure my Papaw is up for sharing a few stories or two.

Would you mind if I shared a little of my western heritage family roots with you while I am here for the next several weeks?  Thanks. I knew you wouldn't mind. Glad to be back in the saddle.