{diy: cross-stitched garden markers}

Thanks to the lovely weather, we got planting last weekend, and have set ourselves up for a rather tasty year with some favourite herbs. (That's hhhhh-erbs, just to be clear.) To be sure we remember who is who, and don't end up eating our flowers, I made each plant a little marker out of clay.

All you need is a packet of modeling clay (I used Sculptey), some alphabet stamps, and a needle and thread. A 2oz packet of clay (which costs 30 - 50 cents) makes 4 garden markers.

The trick to adding the cross-stitch is to sew through the clay just as soon as it's cool enough to handle (about two minutes after it came out of the oven). Be careful, it's rather hot at first! If you wait more than ten minutes, though, the clay might be too hard already. My advice -- bake them in batches of three or four, to allow yourself enough time to sew them all before they harden.

I'd love to know what you've been planting this year, and am eager for any tips about what grows well in Texas!

{confessions of tillyless tuesdays}

I was just going to show you the sweet little baby head with its sweet little baby mullet and the progress on tilly tuesdays: volume II, but then I decided I should tell you the truth. The truth is, I haven't consciously taken a photo of Tilly on a Tuesday for sixteen weeks. There have been plenty of photos, and there have been the usual amount of Tuesdays, but if they've occurred together, it's been purely by chance.

If you remember, tilly tuesdays: volume one was a handmade book of photographs, taken each Tuesday of Tilly's first year. Ah, younger Astrid, and her need for perfection. Once, late on a Tuesday evening, she did the unthinkable -- the most taboo act of motherhood -- she woke a baby just for an authentic Tuesday photo. (Yes, I can hear your collective gasp, echoing around the world... don't worry, I've learnt my lesson.)

But earlier today, wanting to read an email without being asked to see "beh-bee? beh-bee?" (and then screamed at when the email had no baby in it), I pulled down volume one. Fifty-two weeks of beh-bee, in handy sit-on-the-floor format. Peace. And then I realised --  today is Tuesday, and I hadn't yet taken a photo. I didn't take a photo last Tuesday, the Tuesday before, or any of the fourteen great-great-grand-Tuesdays that came before that.

Luckily, present-day Astrid cares very much less about perfection. "Ah, close enough," was my mantra of the afternoon photo sorting, along with "If I tell myself enough that the dates are accurate, I won't know the difference." Sorry, future Astrid, it doesn't sound like I've got much faith in your memory. At least I've labelled the book for you so you'll know which child is in the photos. You're welcome.

Okay, enough words. You're here for the photos, I know.

While the first volume was full of milestones like Tilly smiling or eating food for the first time, this year the firsts are of a rather different nature. Two months ago: the first time she sailed around a miniature version of the world in a Lego boat. A month ago: the first time she picked up a ladybird. A week ago: the first time she really played with a friend, rather than just trying to hit him on the head with toys (sorry, Ewan). 

And that is why I have to keep it up -- so that all these photos don't fade into the jumble of "when she was little," but get to tell their stories and take their place in this weekly history of a person. Well, that, and I love the thought of teenage Tilly going to the photobooth each week to take her picture, twenty-year-old Tilly taking blurry self-portraits on a 'vintage' iPhone, eighty-year-old Tilly sleeping in a room full of filing cabinets (a la Bill Cunningham) filled totally with Tuesday photos... 

...let's see, 80 years x 52 weeks = 4160 photos. Okay, she'd probably just have them on a CD. 

{the leaning tower of cupcakes}

Step back in time two weeks. Take one ninetieth birthday party, two days to get it all sorted, three tons of moving supplies from my parents' garage, and a glimpse of this Lakeland cardboard beauty. It could only be a job for the butcher, the baker, and the cupcake stand maker.

It all centred around sliding artist's palette-shaped cardboard pieces onto an old kitchen roll. Now, if Kate Spade or Paul Smith made kitchen roll, this is what it'd look like: brightly striped. Unfortunately, neither of them has had that idea yet, so I used coloured tape (that matched our cupcake flags) to cheery the whole thing up a bit. Because, let's face it, bare cardboard hardly says "Get your party on." 

What does say "Get your party on" is a dozen Bakewell cupcakes (again, from our recipe, inspired by Britain's second best amateur baker, Holly). As do the Union Jack cake cups. But what most definitely does not help the party mood is when adding the cupcakes to your cupcake stand makes the whole thing topple over. Ever think you're going to be the least popular person in the room? Well, drop twelve Bakewells on the floor fifteen minutes before a hoard of hungry pensioners arrive, and you will be. Guaranteed.

Kitchen weights to the rescue. Of course, meticulous Holly might throw a razor-edged meringue at me if she were to see her prized cakes being served on such a precarious pile of old cardboard and rusting metal. But she'd have to throw it rather hard to reach me in Texas, so I feel relatively safe showing you the photos now.

So, there you have it -- cardboard box to cupcake monstrosity in twenty-five moderately difficult steps. What can I say, at least it didn't overshadow the cakes. Which were, as always, scrummy. 

{diy: custom sketch pad}

What do you buy for the artist in your life? You know, the person who always gives you personalised paintings, artwork they've slaved over. For my granddad's 90th birthday, I found him a nice big sketchpad, but was rather unimpressed by the grizzly brown banana on the cover. Really, who gets inspired by rotting fruit? 

To make it a little more special, I gave it a little make-over, adding a custom cover. While I ripped the original cover off in a fit of anti-banana rage, I'd advise you to peel it off carefully. But then again, a good angry rip does feel rather good.

Print out a photo, for your new cover, onto photo paper (the heavier-weight works well to protect the pad). I used a photo of Tilly trying to steal Mossa's walking stick and chew on it -- at the time it provided a good laugh for both of them.

At this point, I found that the photo paper and the sketch pad were, unfortunately, different sizes -- the photo was a few millimetres wider, but also more than a centimetre shorter. The extra width was easy to remove, by trimming the photo with a paper cutter...

...but adding length proved a bit more difficult. Eventually, I used a fat bit of white packing tape -- lining up the bottoms of the photograph and the pad, and using the tape to fill the gap. Yes, this cuts about a centimetre off each page of the pad, but it seemed to stick it all together quite well. 

Tip: I found that using a generous bit of tape (i.e. extra on both sides), and letting the top of the pad hang off the table while you're taping helps it all to look a bit neater.

Trim the packing tape, and bend it over the top off the pad, and around the back (covering any scruffy marks left from where you ripped off the previous cover).

Hopefully, Mossa will remember his afternoons with Tilly whenever he does a little sketching.

In case his memory does fail, we penned a quick note in the front cover, just reminding Mossa who the pad was from (and how old he is). Add a pack of his favourite drawing pencils, and it's ready to be wrapped. Quick. Simple. And, hopefully, a good way to ensure you keep getting those lovely framed sketches as pressies. Everybody wins.

Do you have any quick presents to whip up for friends and family?  Please share -- I've got a little collection going here. With Christmas approaching, we're all looking for inspiration!

{creative ways to record your travels}

We haven't even left yet, and already I can't resist thinking about how we'll record our trip to Denmark. Of course, we're planning to build our postcard shelves (which, due to warped planks, will now be when we get back), so we'll be sure to pick up a nice Danish postkort to display. But, loving maps as much as we do, here are a few other ideas for remembering trips:

This felt pillow has been embroidered with travel routes, each trip in a different colour. Just don't try to fly from Los Angeles to Japan -- you'll have to go the long way round! (Paola of Atelier Pompadour, via Apartment Therapy)

Feeling stitchy, but don't want to bother with all that felt? What about these simple postcards, onto which you sew your journey. Perfect for our upcoming postcard wall! (Uncommon Goods)

Add a little scent to a postcard collection with these lavendar-filled postcard sachets. Probably not worth the risk of getting them through customs, but buy an extra stamp while you're away, and sew these up at home. (Victoria)

Frame photos, using maps as matting. Choosing a map of the destination where the photo was taken will make it extra special. (Martha Stewart)

And, if you love your maps so much you can't bear to cut them, frame the whole thing in an embroidery hoop! (Brigitte.de)

These pillows bring maps down from the wall and turn them from crinkly to cuddly. We are playing with the idea of having a map theme in our guest room, so these would be fun on the bed. (My Bearded Pigeon, via Re-nest)

And as the guest room is also serving as Justin's office at the moment, this map-covered stag would be right at home. Could we make it a moose, though, please? (Steph Goralnik, on Flickr)

Okay, perhaps I'm getting a little carried away here, but if we're going map-crazy, why not throw in this  map chandelier, too? With a $5 IKEA light-kit, I'm sure this would DIY in no time. (Umbu)

Do you have any travel traditions? Any special souvenirs you try to find while you're away? It looks like we'll have to save space in our suitcase to bring a map or two home with us!

{photos of paint in various stages of drying}

Today you're going to get a little peek behind the scenes at Red Red. Glamour, this is not. It's the every day, bit-by-bit process of creating, whenever I can fit it in.

This is me painting a white canvas white. Seriously. Someone once told me that canvases should always be painted white first. I can't remember who, I can't remember why. But as the laundry sat unfolded, the dishwasher sat unloaded, and the baby lay sleeping, I painted a white canvas white. It was sort of zen, in a mindless-task-that-has-no-practical-value sort of way.

This is a sketch. A half-hearted, I-can't-be-bothered-to-fill-it-all-in sort of drawing. Recognise it? It's that four dandelion piece of art (from our large art round-up).

This is paint. My artistic friend, Whitney, who has a background in decorative painting, is mixing up a nice shade using colours from her own walls. Check out the toe-decoration -- and she didn't even know her feet were going to be on camera.

And here's me, slapping it on, crissing and crossing and trying not to listen to the perfectionist in my head. Good job you can't see my toes. I'd be like the Ugly Step-Sister of feet.

The base colour done, I then played around with slightly different shades on top -- a layer of the base colour with more white, a layer of the base colour with less white. The bottom layer wasn't quite dry, it turned out, when I started adding new layers, so I got an interesting texture where the half-dry paint below got pulled along with the brush. I meant to do that. Ahem. Not. 

A little darker in the corners, a little lighter in the centre. According to Whitney, this is how multi-millionaires like their walls painted. Ooh la la.

(P.S. By the way, there are three unseen --but very present!-- children in the background, and at all times, one of us was fending off Tilly, who was determined to step in the paint...)

Not wanting to have too much of the pulled-off-paint texture, I'm giving the background a good twenty-four hours to dry before adding the dandelions. But, in preparation, I cut the approximate shapes of the flower heads out of paper towels...

...and taped them to the canvas. (There's no artistic reason for using paper towels -- I was just in the kitchen, and they were handy)

Just like the masters did it. Everyone knows Van Gogh stuck paper towel sunflowers to his canvases before painting...

And I'm sure good ol' Vincent held up his iPhone pic of the art he was copying to check the placement of said sunflowers, too.

Stay tuned! Tomorrow, when it's all dry dry completely dry, I'll add the flowers. 

{inspiration: that's a stretch}

Thanks for all your input on the ideas for giant art! I'm happy to say that an artistic friend has offered to guide me through the painting of those four thin dandelions -- so cross your fingers, hold your horses, we might have our own version of that beauty one day soon.

As many of you suggested, we are also considering simply stretching a large, bold-printed piece of fabric over canvas stretchers, and hanging that as art. Here are a few ideas for how that might look:

Stretched Marimekko Fabric by City Refugee. One of my favourite prints of all time, I'm thinking that this could be even more affordable and personal if I stenciled my own version of the famous UNIKKO print. Large shapes, simple colours -- me and my freezer paper can handle that.

This ELLE Decor set-up, via Room Interior Design, has a much softer feel in warmer colours, and shows that a medium-sized print will work nicely, too.

Stretched Stems via Real Simple. The grey seems like a perfect balance of neutral and interesting.

Button Art by Little Green Notebook. I'm picturing it on a white background, for a slightly fresher look, but the loosely-matched colours of the rows of buttons are perfect just as they are.

Stretched IKEA Fabric by Jenn and Romy. Recognise this fabric? I snagged three yards of it on clearance a year or so ago, sewed up a table runner, and declared it to be my favourite fabric ever. Admittedly, it might be a little busy for the wall, but as we have a yard still lying around, it might be worth a try.

Have you had any success with fabric stretching? And prints or patterns that you think are totally art-worthy? Or have you ever tried to rip-off an expensive designer print with freezer paper?

{in progress: shelves and nails}

In between unpacking and repacking suitcases, we are still finding time to get our woodworking on. Remember the world's cheapest shelves that we're planning to put up in the office? 

The plan was to use the eight-foot planks that we'd used to construct our photo booth (tutorial here, if you need a reminder). After hauling the planks in, though, (yes, giant nails still attached... apparently I have no sense of danger) and propping them roughly in place to see if we liked the look, it seems that these planks are just a little too narrow at one-and-a-half inches wide. Yes, they hold postcards. But they look a little strange. Plus, Justin is very eager to try routing a groove down each plank (just as they did on Young House Love), and one-and-a-half inches leaves little room to get his groove on. Plus plus, our planks are a little warped, which is fine for a photo booth, but rather more of a problem in shelving.

Therefore, we've decided that it's better to spring the $8 for new, wider planks. As we'll have to buy a drill to put this all together anyway (ours, we believe, was stolen while we were out for a walk -- can you believe that?), I'm thinking that the title World's Cheapest Shelves isn't quite so accurate anymore. But we're excited to get working on them... until then, I leave you with Rock Pig:

{inspiration: large art for cheap}

Over the years, we've collected several pieces of art that we really love. As we've had to move every year, and have been on a small budget, almost everything has been 8x10" or smaller.

Now, looking for a way to fill our ginormous living room wall, our pint-size frames simply aren't cutting it. Still on a budget, though, and with giant paintings not coming cheap, I've decided to create the art myself. These are a few ideas, none of which I've committed to yet, which all look beautiful and make-it-yourself-able.

Colour Blocks via Apartment Therapy. Modern art, simply by framing layered pieces of paper. 

Striped Panels by 4 Men 1 Lady. Though the colours here aren't my cup of tea (a little too green tea), I'm imagining that in red, yellow and orange this would look rather Kate Spade.

Tandem Canvas via Apartment Therapy. What's cheaper than one giant canvas? Four small canvases hung next to each other. 

Abstract Tutorial by Oh Happy Day. I do love these, but I'm a little afraid it might look as if Tilly got hold of some oil pastels. Maybe I should give her some oil pastels (in a well-covered and confined area) and see what happens... 

Potato Print Dots by Oh Happy Day. This idea can actually be done with the kiddos -- potato prints and dots. Plus, she shares her secret of cheap framing.

Golden Mesa I by Sean Jacobs. This one isn't really a DIY-- it's an actual piece of art from World Market. But it looks easy, doesn't it. Deceptively easy? Probably.

Sun Shower by Today's Nest. A collage of droplets, which could be made it any colour scheme. I love the idea of using a bunch of different papers -- anything from birthday cards to junk mail could lend itself to this.

Four flowers via Decorno. This is my favourite right now, but again, not really a DIY, just art that I'm wondering if I could knock off. What is it -- framed paper? Canvas? I can't tell. But I love it, nonetheless.

Giant Portrait via Pinterest. Can I please live here, please? That giant portrait peeking through the doorway is just so clever. Can I make it? No. But look closer -- can you see the painting of a dog with a fish bowl for a head? It totally reminds me of Justin's birthday card to Tilly -- her head on a dog's body! We could paint that one, I think.

So, what do you think -- do any of these ideas seem do-able? Or perhaps you've got other ways of filling up giant walls that you'd like to share -- please do, we're all ears!