I am a long time second/third/even fourth han enthusiast. The more liitle old grannys who have worn, used, and discarded an item the more I covet it.
I was introduced to the best consignment shop this week. Love's Treasures (Love Inc.) of Jenison, MI is run for charity as all the best thrift stores are. And while the "shoppe" in the front is nicely arranged and well stocked, it is the out back warehouse that has me raving.
Due to changing situations in my own life I have been thinking more and more about the difficulty (read as price) of furnishing a home, be it mansion or studio apartment. Furnishing is something I've never had to do as all my apartments in college came already completely funished-bed and all. I can't even imagine the cost if I had to start from scratch at say Sears. It would take me three years to save for a bedroom set.
Not so if you go the consignment route. sofas $50, matched wing chairs $40 each. Antique bed frames for only $30! I even found an old wood dresser/vanity combination complete with huge mirror on top for only $50.
In the end I walked out with nothing more then a beautiful white mosquito net (normally $50+) and item I have been shopping for for years. But I know that once the time comes for me to begin filling my own nest, I will steer clear or pricy department stores and seek for treasures at second-hand shops.
Vada's Vast Vault
vBlog vReloaded
Monday, April 23, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Valentines: 52 Reasons to do this craft!
I got all up in the face of Valentines Day this year. My enthusiasm reached Martha Stewartian proportions, and my ambitions knew no limits. Maybe it's because this is the first time in my life I've had a sweetheart to spoil, but I was totally feeling the Hallmark Spirit.
52 Valentine Pick-Up
Supplies:
- 1 Deck of regular playing cards
- 6 Sheets of Card Stock
- Hand held, or 3 ring hole punch
- 2 Large metal loose leaf book binding rings (or scraps of ribbon can be used to bind them)
- Tacky Glue, stickers, glitter, etc.
Think up and typ out 52 things you love/appreciate about your special someone> It could be a grandparent, roommate, spouse etc.; in my case it was my boyfriend. These things can be funny or serious, I found my list to be a mix of funny, sexy, sincere, and a lot of inside jokes. After you've compiled your list, put each reason into boxes that are roughly 2"x3" using your favorite word processesing program (Microsoft Word, publisher...), I put a dashed border around mine, you can find templates for it online, but I preferred to design my own. Make a couple extra squares for the covers.
When satisified: print, cut squares apart, and glue one square on the face of each card. I used tacky glue and a q-tip, aside from being time consuming, it worked really well
next is the hard part: using the hole punch punch 2 evenly spaced holes through the entire deck. make sure all the holes line up as close as possible. Finally decorate frugally with stickers, glitter, whatever, put in whatever order you prefer, slide rings through holes and VOILA present to the object of your affection!
The REAL gift is how wonderful you will feel making this craft. I found myself smiling and chuckling to myself while I thought up creative even naughty "reasons". I remembered so many little wonderful things about my boyfriend, things that I had forgotten we had done together, that he had done for me. It brought us closer together and he was really touched by the little details I notice and the time I spent telling him why he is wonderful. Its a hardy little scrap book of sorts, and I can see my adding another deck with 52 MORE reasons sometime in the near future, there is always his birthday...
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Monday, February 27, 2012
Made: I Wanna be a Trucker
The day starts early in the life of a scrap hauler. Or so my one day "on the road" has qualified me to suppose. My first adventure in trying to discover the secret of the American soul is to try my hand at "Truckin". So at 5am this morning, I climbed into the passenger seat of a twenty year old Kenworth Semi cab and began my observation."Uh, yeah, that's a big 10-4 Pig-Pen,
Yeah, we definitely got us the front door good buddy,
Mercy sakes alive, looks like we got us a convoy..."
But the most important moment of the day is when I asked THE QUESTION
You've all wondered. You've all speculated. as you watch a truck pass with what appears mere inches to spare. what if it hits? Will the bridge collapse? Will we all be crushed? But how many people who have never driven a truck have taken the time to ask: "What do you do when you are on the highway and come to an overpass that's too low? What happens?" As much as I want to share the answer with you it is one secret of the Trucking world I have sworn to keep. Perhaps someday you too will have the opportunity to ride in a semi. And maybe you too will learn the great secrets of the trucker.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Rocket Football Rocks?
Continuing my search for the real American, I have begun attending the events of a pee-wee or "rocket" football team...sporadically. It was picture day the first time I shadowed Justin, an 11yr old kicker and wide receiver in a boys tackle football league run by the local school district.
Pulling the van into the overflowing parking lot of a nearby park I brought my litany of questions: "What position do you play? Wide Receiver...is that the one who the quarterback passes the ball to?" Its picture day so all the young players are decked out in full pads and their red jeresyed best. Black leather gloves and the American Football classic: skin tight black knee-pants rounding out the look for that delicate balance between pansy-primo-ballerino and macho meat head.A look I hope to understand before the season is over.
Sitting on the picnic bench doing my best to observe with out interfering with my environment--a feat all true Anthropologists do their best to achieve--I come to the conclusion that 11yr old boys are STILL as mean as they were when I was that age. A burgeoning suspicion that I in my tight gray skinny jeans, silk blouse, funky platinum streaks, and too trendy white fauz ray-bans was attracting too much attention and thus altering the dynamic among prepubescent players and fading-glory dads alike, I retreated to the distance of a park bench under the guise of practicing my guitar to continue my study as the boys began their self-directed and serious warm up. Never mind the fact that few of the boys actually succeeded in touching their toes and their stretching form was less then par. (a comical number of them wobbling and falling to the ground while attempting to stand one footed while stretching their right-quad) each boy tackled the task of warm ups with a surprising and admirable determination and focus. The general impression an untutored observer such as myself receives is: this is NOT a game.
Impure athlete and female that I am however, I quickly became bored, sweaty in the surprisingly hot sun, uncomfortable with the stares and general impression that I just don't fit in; snuck up to the team photos snapped a few sneaky pics on both my own 35mm manual focus and the disposable point and shoot I had been sent with under orders to take pics so my mom could escape buying the professional copies, kissed my little brother on the forehead and left.
Education conclusion: football, while fulfilling for some, is not my American Identity.
Pulling the van into the overflowing parking lot of a nearby park I brought my litany of questions: "What position do you play? Wide Receiver...is that the one who the quarterback passes the ball to?" Its picture day so all the young players are decked out in full pads and their red jeresyed best. Black leather gloves and the American Football classic: skin tight black knee-pants rounding out the look for that delicate balance between pansy-primo-ballerino and macho meat head.A look I hope to understand before the season is over.
Sitting on the picnic bench doing my best to observe with out interfering with my environment--a feat all true Anthropologists do their best to achieve--I come to the conclusion that 11yr old boys are STILL as mean as they were when I was that age. A burgeoning suspicion that I in my tight gray skinny jeans, silk blouse, funky platinum streaks, and too trendy white fauz ray-bans was attracting too much attention and thus altering the dynamic among prepubescent players and fading-glory dads alike, I retreated to the distance of a park bench under the guise of practicing my guitar to continue my study as the boys began their self-directed and serious warm up. Never mind the fact that few of the boys actually succeeded in touching their toes and their stretching form was less then par. (a comical number of them wobbling and falling to the ground while attempting to stand one footed while stretching their right-quad) each boy tackled the task of warm ups with a surprising and admirable determination and focus. The general impression an untutored observer such as myself receives is: this is NOT a game.
Impure athlete and female that I am however, I quickly became bored, sweaty in the surprisingly hot sun, uncomfortable with the stares and general impression that I just don't fit in; snuck up to the team photos snapped a few sneaky pics on both my own 35mm manual focus and the disposable point and shoot I had been sent with under orders to take pics so my mom could escape buying the professional copies, kissed my little brother on the forehead and left.
Education conclusion: football, while fulfilling for some, is not my American Identity.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Tumblin' _._.._-_-..- .._-_.O.._..
4 months back from my grand Turkish adventure. And its back. I had hoped that I had developed an immunity, but the sleeplessness, discontent, overactive imagination, even heightened creative energy tell me its back. I have yet another dread case of that time tried and true foot itch. Wanderlust. Or as I privately nominated it last year: tumbleweed syndrome. Here I am at home with the family. I have a full-time job at which I am working 60+hr/wk. Am weeks away from buying a car (which constitutes a HUGE commitment for me) and all I can think about is packing a suitcase and starting all over. Again.
An increasing bitterness with Michigan and my apparent ineptitude to connect socially with the local populace is giving away to the frustrated claustrophobia that sent me into the arms of one of the most ancient and foreign civilizations in the world in February of '10. Lately I have been missing Turkey, Turkish food, and the language, however I am certain that I have zero interest in moving back. I need a NEW adventure. This time I am utterly stumped.
Twenty minutes ago I became so desperate for direction that I googled: "the next big adventure". These were the top 3 hits:
1. Portland, Oregon - some sporting goods store in Portland selling skis and mountain bikes
2. Scotland
3. Somaliland - a country that doesn't even officially exist
There are two decisions I have to make before I can even begin to tackle the life decisions this need affects: A. What do I want to do?
B. Where do I want to go?
The last move A. was easy. I wanted to be a nanny. Ok. Did that. But the truth is I don't want to BE a nanny for the next 7 years. I really need to begin doing something that will boost my CV and look impressive for future employers and Graduate Programs.
This time I am not even sure if I want to go international again or stay in the states. I dont even know how to begin answering these basics. I am utterly stumped and have been for...at least 6 months now.
Can anybody suggest/recommend some REALLY cool job/destination, with details? Appreciate it.
I am so lost -
Will I ever settle down?
An increasing bitterness with Michigan and my apparent ineptitude to connect socially with the local populace is giving away to the frustrated claustrophobia that sent me into the arms of one of the most ancient and foreign civilizations in the world in February of '10. Lately I have been missing Turkey, Turkish food, and the language, however I am certain that I have zero interest in moving back. I need a NEW adventure. This time I am utterly stumped.
Twenty minutes ago I became so desperate for direction that I googled: "the next big adventure". These were the top 3 hits:
1. Portland, Oregon - some sporting goods store in Portland selling skis and mountain bikes
2. Scotland
3. Somaliland - a country that doesn't even officially exist
There are two decisions I have to make before I can even begin to tackle the life decisions this need affects: A. What do I want to do?
B. Where do I want to go?
The last move A. was easy. I wanted to be a nanny. Ok. Did that. But the truth is I don't want to BE a nanny for the next 7 years. I really need to begin doing something that will boost my CV and look impressive for future employers and Graduate Programs.
This time I am not even sure if I want to go international again or stay in the states. I dont even know how to begin answering these basics. I am utterly stumped and have been for...at least 6 months now.
Can anybody suggest/recommend some REALLY cool job/destination, with details? Appreciate it.
I am so lost -
Will I ever settle down?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Rededication
For those of you who were former followers of my blog from the 7.5 months I lived in Turkey, this is where I shall update from now on. For those of you who WEREN'T followers of my Turkey Blog. Go. Read it. http://vadainturkey.blogspot.com
I arrived back in the US last week after a long and life changing 7.5 months living mainly in Istanbul. While there I developed an appreciation the blessings I have had my whole life as an American citizen. It is my plan over the next....months to discover and experience: THE GREAT AMERICAN DREAM.
This is your invitation to join me. In the words of the Iconic Simon and Garfunkel:
I arrived back in the US last week after a long and life changing 7.5 months living mainly in Istanbul. While there I developed an appreciation the blessings I have had my whole life as an American citizen. It is my plan over the next....months to discover and experience: THE GREAT AMERICAN DREAM.
This is your invitation to join me. In the words of the Iconic Simon and Garfunkel:
"Let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together"
"I've got some real estate here in my bag"
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies
And we walked off to look for America
"Michigan seems like a dream to me now"
I've gone to look for America
Labels:
America,
Michigan,
Simon and Garfunkel,
Turkey
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Monday, October 26, 2009
A Letter I wrote Elder Michael Waite
This is Matt Bomer the heartthrob in a new series on USA called "White Collar". I'm in love.


Dear Elder Rub n’ Tug aka Mikey aka Ginge aka Madam O’s Sex Slave,
So…I graduated. And now I am back in Hell—I mean—Michigan living with Satan—I mean—my family. Jeff texted me the other day and said: “Remember when your crazy spring roommate told Mikey that he reminded her of her twelve year old brother and Mikey said: ‘That’s funny, because you remind me of my twelve year old brother!’” I hadn’t remembered, but what I did remember was you and Jeff water boarding me. I also remember the 5 food groups: Pop tarts, corn dogs, frozen waffles, cheese, and candy. I also remember you instigating the Housing Complaint then turning belly up in the “mediation”. “Michael! PUSSY!” (me pointing finger accusingly) “Uh, yeah! I was TERRIFIED!” Then going home and pooping on her picture. ß Passive Aggressive.
You will be pleased to know that this week is Halloween and I am going to be a peacock. A sexy peacock. So here are some things about Michigan that do not suck: no roaches. Mike and Ike. Target. Smoke Detectors. Black People. No one named Oleole. In news from Hawaii: Tommy Jordan is married, Alex is engaged, Brady is not, but still dating Holly, Briana and Lyndsi are graduating this semester, Marni is in Jerusalem, Andreas is still European, Meagan and Jordan are as beautiful as ever, and Brennon, Justin, and Terrence are all in Utah—weirdos.
I got a calling yesterday—shudder. CTR 10 Teacher. I think them Hellions is gonna spit and roast me. I have gotten steadily and progressively dumber since I graduated and can actually no longer speak verbally. I am told that the next thing to go will be my ability to control my bladder. Well its that time of year again, soon I will be listening to Christmas music and dreaming about the money I DON’T have.
So, how is your companion? I had a really hard time finding photos of myself with clothing on, I hope Elder Taint appreciates my efforts. I know you are doing your best to lead by example and keep him pure.
I’d like to leave you with some wise words from the great philosopher ABBAcus:
I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay/ Ain't it sad/ And still there never seems to be a single penny left for me/ That's too bad/ In my dreams I have a plan If I got me a wealthy man/ I wouldn't have to work at all, I'd fool around and have a ball/ A man like that is hard to find but I can't get him off my mind/ Ain't it sad/ And if he happens to be free I bet he wouldn't fancy me/ That's too bad/ So I must leave, I'll have to go/ To Las Vegas or Monaco/ And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same
Money, money, money/ Must be funny/ In the rich man's world/ Money, money, money/ Always sunny/ In the rich man's world/ Aha-ahaaa/ All the things I could do/ If I had a little money/ It's a rich man's world
ALOHA ALWAYS,
So…I graduated. And now I am back in Hell—I mean—Michigan living with Satan—I mean—my family. Jeff texted me the other day and said: “Remember when your crazy spring roommate told Mikey that he reminded her of her twelve year old brother and Mikey said: ‘That’s funny, because you remind me of my twelve year old brother!’” I hadn’t remembered, but what I did remember was you and Jeff water boarding me. I also remember the 5 food groups: Pop tarts, corn dogs, frozen waffles, cheese, and candy. I also remember you instigating the Housing Complaint then turning belly up in the “mediation”. “Michael! PUSSY!” (me pointing finger accusingly) “Uh, yeah! I was TERRIFIED!” Then going home and pooping on her picture. ß Passive Aggressive.
You will be pleased to know that this week is Halloween and I am going to be a peacock. A sexy peacock. So here are some things about Michigan that do not suck: no roaches. Mike and Ike. Target. Smoke Detectors. Black People. No one named Oleole. In news from Hawaii: Tommy Jordan is married, Alex is engaged, Brady is not, but still dating Holly, Briana and Lyndsi are graduating this semester, Marni is in Jerusalem, Andreas is still European, Meagan and Jordan are as beautiful as ever, and Brennon, Justin, and Terrence are all in Utah—weirdos.
I got a calling yesterday—shudder. CTR 10 Teacher. I think them Hellions is gonna spit and roast me. I have gotten steadily and progressively dumber since I graduated and can actually no longer speak verbally. I am told that the next thing to go will be my ability to control my bladder. Well its that time of year again, soon I will be listening to Christmas music and dreaming about the money I DON’T have.
So, how is your companion? I had a really hard time finding photos of myself with clothing on, I hope Elder Taint appreciates my efforts. I know you are doing your best to lead by example and keep him pure.
I’d like to leave you with some wise words from the great philosopher ABBAcus:
I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay/ Ain't it sad/ And still there never seems to be a single penny left for me/ That's too bad/ In my dreams I have a plan If I got me a wealthy man/ I wouldn't have to work at all, I'd fool around and have a ball/ A man like that is hard to find but I can't get him off my mind/ Ain't it sad/ And if he happens to be free I bet he wouldn't fancy me/ That's too bad/ So I must leave, I'll have to go/ To Las Vegas or Monaco/ And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same
Money, money, money/ Must be funny/ In the rich man's world/ Money, money, money/ Always sunny/ In the rich man's world/ Aha-ahaaa/ All the things I could do/ If I had a little money/ It's a rich man's world
ALOHA ALWAYS,
VADA
Labels:
ABBA,
BYU-Hawaii,
Hawaii,
Michigan,
Missionary Letter
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