When I was growing up, I had a best friend who lived across the street. Her name was Carly. We spent a TON of time together. We'd make up elaborate schemes, play dress up, and make silly games out of nothing. Carly had the coolest mom (who was best friends with my mom). She left npr on for her house plants. Her house smelled like coffee. She always had snacks. She smoked, which was a big deal only because my parents didn't. I thought she was awesome. As Carly and I grew older, we kind of grew apart, but there was always this tender spot for both her and her mother, Ruth. However, recently, my mother and Ruth have rekindled their friendship, and much to my enjoyment, so have Ruth and I. There is something rather special about being able to be friends with someone you looked up to as a child.
This past week, Ruth came to pick me up and we went thrifting together. I had spotted a massive pile of old quilt tops I knew she'd be interested in, and so off we went to our local junk store. It was on this trip that I spotted a lovely a-frame shadow box that was in need of some attention. (the love of my life wants to live in an a-frame house, which would make me happy as well.)
So, I brought it home, cleaned it up, gave it a coat of shiny, bright red paint. I also removed the back to replace the terrible red velvet fabric. And now, I have a pretty holder for thread and bobbins. Though, I could never find a house big enough to hold my entire collection! The best part? I bought this house for less than a dollar and used only what I hand on hand supply wise. So much goodness from a little trip with a dear friend.
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