Cool made all the cooler


Rarely do I buy anything new. It just doesn’t suit my decorating style or even my lifestyle for that matter. I adore things that have been around the block a time or two and have a story to tell from their adventures. My only rule of thumb… the item I’m going to spend some time with, must be well made! Listen to a girl thats been there done that ohhhh so many times….don’t waste your time, talent, and funds on something that is dodgy.  (that includes relationships).

In every aspect of pulling a home together, I will seek out oldies but goodies in effort to add a uniqueness and a flair that just can not be found in new items.

Architectural salvage yards are my favorite place to spend an afternoon. My mind is flooded with inspiration as I walk around touching the rust of an old iron gate that has swung open and close through the years, corbels that once held roof lines in place, porch railings that folks leaned against most likely sippin on some sweet tea, crystal chandeliers that one day I hope to scatter and hang from the old oak tree out in the back yard. Heck I even enjoy looking through old bins of metal bric-a-brac items that have no real use other than to play beautifully with the creative juices that are ever flowing as I linger in such a space.

Doors however have proven to be some of my favorite finds. I’ve replaced new hollow doors with solid ones made years before, for a fraction of the price.  Turned an old door into a coolieo desk, or a one of a kind head board, and my favorite…

room dividers

One side is where magic is created (truly this happens anywhere and everywhere). However with the door dividers, all my goodies are house on one side hiding the genius mess from where we like to sit, read, practice music, and watch TV. 

Recently I came across an old door that was the perfect height and width and will soon prove its ultra coolness by being an accessory holder in my bedroom.

And the price…

well that was just icing on the cake…

some folks just love to give away their old stuff (hands raised, dancing in the street as I celebrate such a find. My daughter, however, will no longer walk the neighborhood with me on trash night : D ).

The only draw back with my new-old find was it was it was old and chippy but not nearly old and chippy enough.


So I got down and dirty…

really dirty.

And because I like y’all so much I took pictures along the way so I could share the process of how I took an plain ol’ somewhat chippy door and turned it into this radically cool ol’ chippy door.



Items needed:

  1. First and foremost freedom of mind. Don’t allow even for a second of doubt to come in. You can do this! I promise you. It takes a bit of time, a bit of paint, a bit of curiosity (which is just plain needed in ALL areas of life)
  2. Paints. I like to use up all my leftovers for projects like this. You can use your old wall paint, left over cans of milk paints, chalk paint, mineral paints…the choices here are limited only by you and what you want your final piece to look like.
  3. Car wax (turtle wax and such) this is a must item to help make the job at hand eaiser.
  4. Gloves, so as not to get ultra messy
  5. Scraper and sand paper
  6. Whatever object you want to make oh so cool


First step~ clean off any dirt, dust, debris from your piece. Typical I don’t sand at this point for I love the chips and scratches that are already there to remain.

Second step~ because I wanted some of the original paint to show through so I added the car wax. This step will be done between each coat allowing you to pick and choose what area you would like to scrap the paint away easily. The wax acts as a buffer, not allowing the paint on top to adhere fully to the paint and piece underneath.  This is a HUGE step and in doing this you will find it is so much easier to scrap away the unwanted paint.

Third step~ paint over choosen piece, car wax and all.  The wax may mix into the paint, not to worry as I stated this just helps to keep the top paint a bit loose and allows for easy removal. I like to start with my darkest paint and the one I want to see the least of .


Fourth step~ scrap away and sand as little or as much of the paint to reveal the colors underneath.

Coninue between the second and fourth step for as many layers and colors as you would like to have.

Between each layer add the car wax here and there to the areas you would like to continue to bring forth.

Once you have gotten your piece to the desired look, celebrate and rejoice as you sand it down, and perhaps varnish (I typically skip right over this, allowing it to continue to age gracefully) for you have given a bit of love and care to a discarded old piece and turned it into something new, useable, and oh so charming.



Yoni Love~


This painting, affectionately called ‘Yoni Love’, has been a long, long, long time in the making.

While, the actual creation only took a few hours and a whole lotta paint (it’s big y’all, 36X36 and layers upon layers of paint) to create. The idea of it, had been bubbling up in my thoughts and heart for years.

Yet, not until after spending a morning mediating on the thoughts and desire of this creation, did it actually come to be.

You see as a little girl, my yoni, with all her gorgeousness and yummy power, was abused. Used in an effort to quench another’s ugly lust.

Innocence that was my birth right, was stolen.

The reprehensible acts of what one human can and will do to one another was seen and sadly felt, first hand.

I was forever changed.

Changed, not in a way I would have wanted or chosen for myself or any other. Yet it was a change, that from that moment on, was forever more, a part of my life’s story.

Blessedly, that one ugly, repugnant thread that came into my life at eight years of age, was lovingly and graciously woven and absorbed into the enormous, gorgeous tapestry that is my life. For this and so much more I am grateful for a steadfast God, the unconditional love of my precious family, and my unshakeable faith that ALL we go through in life is for our ultimate good and advantageous for our evolution.

Bringing me to this…

the why of the ‘Yoni Love’ painting~

A few years back, with the encouragement of a trusted, loving friend, I took a photo of my yoni (ladies, if you have not done this, I beseech you to do so! It will likely be the most powerful selfie you will ever take). Until the moment of that photo, I had no real idea of my yoni’s unique beauty…pink, heart-shaped, sportin’ a tiny pearl that held so much wisdom and offered extreme pleasure.

My yoni-selfie held great potential and power, enough so, that it changed me, once again…forever.

Captured wholly within the image was my yoni’s beauty of purity and lovely innocence. With its soft yet mighty power.

I felt complete and unfathomable love for my feminine heart space.

Being an artist I desperately wanted to capture its rare beauty. Yet as I attempted time and time again nothing would come. Any effort put forth, ultimately, did not have the power to hold its essence.

Not until that morning of mediation…

In that time of mindful stillness a magnificent story of love, restoration of power, deep healing, and ultimate honoring, unfolded. Catching a glimpse of all this painting ultimately had the power to be. Not just for me but for others as well…I knew exactly where to begin. Dipping my fingers into paints, for no brush would have the ability or power to hold up to the task at hand, I lovingly began.

Now hanging over my tub, I enjoy it with such wonderment, and think of the power ‘Yoni Love’ has and even ponder…what else it may hold.

Ultimately, as with much of life, it is a Divine mystery.

Yet this I do know…

what was once something I was hesitant to share, now hangs proudly in my home with all its potential to heal, restore and ultimatly…honor the yoni.







Some things are just worth the time, energy, care, and love. Ultimately they are worthy of investment.

However from time to time figuring out what those things are, can prove a bit tricky. So in an effort to better understand the real definition of investment, I googled it. ; D

noun: investment; plural noun: investments
*an act of devoting time, effort, or energy to a particular undertaking with the expectation of a worthwhile result.


Two things struck me with this investment’s definition.

First~ ‘devoting’.

Whoa, that’s one powerful word.

*give all or a large part of one’s time or resources to (a person, activity, or cause)…

When you give thought to it, outside of God, self, and family, what, really, are we devoted to? Hmmmm?

Second~ ‘with the expectation of’

Being someone who lives with a childlike spirit means life is new and exciting everyday. And made all the more complete by its constant awe and wonderment. So rarely are expectations put on anything other than maybe the fact that joy and fun WILL be part of daily life.

Leaving me to ponder…

do I really invest in anything???

Well hayels bells…

do I?

As I sat at my computer a-thinkin’, I began to look around my home. Gazing at the lovingly restored pieces. Frames that hold priceless memories of people and places. Plants~ green and thriving (HUGE feat). Collected alabaster lamps that have been stripped, cleaned, and rewired. Every wall filled with paintings created over the years with my daughter. Sofas that support while allowing friends to sit and laugh or comfort each other.

Love, devotion, and investment of care and time is seen and felt in everything that surrounds me.

As the thoughts flowed away, feelings of unfathomable gratitude and complete abundance surged through my entire being and my heart sang out with a resounding…yes, yes, YES I do invest.




But ONLY where it counts. In relationships that fulfill, lift, and honor each other. In things that bring care, pleasure, and enjoyment to the body, mind, and spirit. Through the creative juices that beckons me at my very core. Within ventures that allow for cohesive collaboration, allowing everyone involved a place where their strengths shine, and any weakness are absorbed into and by the collective.

And lawdy be it took awhile and many, ohhhh so many good attempts through the years to learn to only invest my time, skills, and energy in real things. Things like solid wood, sleek marble, gorgeous metal, and items with beautiful craftsmanship.

My latest investment’s before and after


Only one drawer in, but I could tell straight off it had stunning potential.



Long before I began teaching yoga, self-doubt and thoughts that my new skills would be  insufficient ran rampant. They had an ongoing field day in my head and played unmercifully with my confidence. More specifically these self-doubts rose up when I would think of teaching those whose abilities and understanding of the Astanga practice were more advanced than my own.

Then one evening while chatting with my daughter, I was gently reminded (with my own words) that we all have gifts. We may not always easily see, understand, or appreciate them but when we choose to withhold them it is likened to withholding blessings. The kind of  blessings that only our gifts, given selflessly, might be bestowed upon another.

Gratefully this conversation and reminder happened before I met Ms. Georgette.

A 40 year practitioner of Astanga Yoga.

While still slightly intimated by our 40 to 1 year experience ratio, I silenced any self-doubt that threatened to rise up and met her right where I was, with all my strengths as well as all my weakness. And  was accepted as well as appreciated by her from the start.

After that first class, we hugged and thanked each other for coming out.  Then lo and behold by the end of our second class, we had come to trust each other enough that she asked if I would assist her into a head stand. The first head stand she had done since having a pacemaker put in.  


Honor as well as bewilderment fell over me as I contemplated what she was asking. She went on to say, that I, with my oh so new knowledge and skills, had been the first teacher, post surgery, that provided her with the assurance needed to once again be ready for this step.

That moment…

if self-doubt had won or if I’d decided to stay within my comfort zone…

would have never happened. And it is precisely that moment that opened my heart to fully embrace the teacher within my self.


We all have gifts.

Mine that day was offering assurance of ability to support and assist an advanced yogi back into a asana that she had easily done for years, prior to health issues. Hers, was in the trust she bestowed upon me that day and many times after.

Today, when I got home from teaching, there was a package waiting at my front door. While always a delight to receive a gift, this dearly and deeply blessed my soul. Georgette made me a new yoga mat carrier and bag, shared a beloved book and wrote a note containing words that I will forever hold dear.

We all have gifts!

Don’t withhold the blessings that your gifts can provided.

Share them!

And share them often.








Don’t walk…



or my favorite…


to find an old lampshade.

We’ll be waiting right here till y’all get back.

So excited to share this heck of a fun, inexpensive, quick and easy transformational project with you.

Perhaps you’ve got the perfect lamp base but your shade is just one of those plain ol’ white, cream or black ones that you picked up at your local shade purveyor and it is well, boring which is SOOOOOO not you cause baby, you ain’t boring!

Or maybe you got one of those lamps that was all fancy and such and it came with its own shade. And while it may not a piece of art or reflective of your personality, it was pretty and fit a need.

Or like me, you collect things, odd things, things like ohhhh I don’t know….lamps. Vintage ones. Alabaster ones to be exact. And then you find yourself being over run with white marble lamps in need of many a shades.

Here was my solution….


I got busy tearing some old shades, found at my local thrift store, UP.  And torn them up good!!!

Then I got creative…


real creative…




then again…



and again…


Creating a lovely home doesn’t have to cost a fortune.  Let your creative juices flow (ps we ALL have them). I  promise your enviroment will take on a personality and reflect you, beautifully.

If you ever want/need help, I love creating and am always up for a new adventure! Call me.

Life lesson number 81,739~


IMG_1163I dearly love to laugh, cut up, pick with someone who can pick right back.

My entire family is made up with folks cut from this kind of tapestry.

When it comes to humor, sarcasm, talking over top of each other, bouts of down right silliness, and having an all around rip roarin’ good time, we could each and everyone garnish a gold medal. Gratefully we are all also loving, considerate, and kind. But if a laugh can be had…we will go for it. So it is an absolute blessing that each us were born with a duck’s back and married those with like-minded disposition. Thus allowing the continuation of this family tradition while raising up the next generation of gold medalist.

This feat of ours comes in awfully handy. So even when the yuck of life rears it ugly head, uncomfortable situations arise, or sadness befalls us, humor is sought and admirably seems to always be there.

Now in grade school, on the onset of attempting humor outside of my inner circle of misfits, I quickly discovered that humor and sarcasm if not readily coupled with kindness could be offensive and from time to time even hurtful. Making life lesson #81,739 one that I had throughly thought I learned and held a Master’s degree in…

I’m talking…

walked the stage,

in a gown with tassels (cause that’s how good I was in this arena),

family actin’ a fool,

hat tossed up in the air….

kind of learned!!!

Then last week happened!

While attempting to deal with one uncomfortable situation, another uncomfortable situation quickly rose up. In an effort to keep the first situation light I attempted to be funny in spite of the fact that I knew (literally being convinced by this knowledge in the moment… yet still proceeding) it was not kind to the second situation.

Within 60 seconds…

just like holding a short fused stick of lit dynamite…

it ALL exploded in my face.

And only once the soot began to settle could I truly see it for what it was…


not very funny …

and hurtful to two friends that I deeply love.

Life lesson 81,739…

ALWAYS (no matter how funny it may seem) lead first and foremost with 


#81,739 was a mighty painful lesson to learn. Yet, thankfully, I learned it with compassion towards myself in spite of all my many many shortcomings, with appreciation that even at this ripe ol’ age I can still be taught, and with joy that the “old enough to know better” stage of life…still lies before me!




What’s your super power?


Or perhaps a more advantageous and precise question would be…

What is your favorite super power?

Cause boy howdy if we are not all blessed with MANY!

My favorite of all the super powers I have, is my ability to discern and ascertain, almost instantly, someone else’s current state of being.

For my entire existence I have had the keen ability to feel another’s feelings so profoundly that I can sense their mood, attitude, the deepest recesses of their emotions, the moment I walk into their presence.

Through the decades I have learned that one of my favorite gifts that comes with this super power is the potential to alter and impact those feelings…

elevating when they are down, bringing calm when emotions are flared, balancing the chaos, lightening the heavy…

Typically this is achieved by my staying calm, full of love, being astute, present, but neutral~knowing these are their feelings not my own, praying for guidance as I maneuver the unseen, and more times than not, accomplishing it all without the need of words.

My super power has allowed me to live my entire life from a heart centered space.

It is magnificent and one that I would not trade even for those of Superman or Wonder Woman. Although I really would enjoy playing around with that gals bullet deflecting bracelets and magical tiara that so slyly functions as a boomerang.


Now my super powers, just like Superman and Wonder Woman, my favorite one in particular, has weaknesses.

His, as we know, is kryptonite and if those indestructible bracelets of hers get bound together…poor child’s awesome powers are completely lost.

Mine, however, comes from a couple of sources.

First source of weakness…

when I am not well rested or completely run down. When this happens I am just no good to myself or anyone else.

Second when I have not spent time alone in mediation. For I’m left feeling untethered and unable to accurately hone in on feelings.

Lastly, and thankfully, this is the most unlikely weakness to be breached, especially when the other two weaknesses are strong and in tact…

is when my own feelings have been hurt.

Have found when it is the latter, I tend to quickly and quietly withdraw. For it is a difficult task to feel another’s feeling, when I am overwhelmed with my own. This form of retreating, is the way I’ve always handled my undesired emotions. This is the way that I can accurately understand and manage the upheaval of that which customarily stable. This is the way that feels the most comfortable…the most safe. This, I am finding, is not how I want to continue as I transform (my word for 2018) into all that I have been created to be. 

I figure, in order for me to continue to grow in and fortify my super powers that I must consistently strengthen them. So today, and every day that comes after, when I feel like cocooning in… I will take a moment, access my super power and see if my own hurt emotions can be fully felt, duly managed, without the need to retreat. It is a promise I make to myself, more importantly it is a promise I make to those I love. It is a somewhat scary undertaking that is well outside my comfort zone. But I liken it to Wonder Woman allowing me to play dress up with all her accessories. Without the ability to be vulnerable how can we ever truly understand our strengths and appreciate the super powers we have been given.






Beauty uncovered~

There is often a desire to sit and write out a fun little ditty but more times than not when the desire hits I’m not necessarily inspired or have something particular to write about. Or perhaps I am inspired but the thoughts aren’t organized, or the thoughts seem to be lining up yet the words won’t flow or my favorite reason… I get drawn into reading one of my beloved “When do I get the manual” post, finding myself lost in her wonderful writing of silly antics going on in her neck of the woods and before I know it my desire to write myself has moved about 5014.5 miles away and my mind is on to something else.

Often, instead of sitting down and diligently forcing the words to come, I turn on tunes, dance around a bit, pick up a paint brush, scraper, sandpaper and get out of my head into my body.

I find that is where the magic happens.

In this incubator of creativity my mind begins to let go and the thoughts that were once held captive between my ears unravels its self into a kind of nothingness. And in that space there is room for movement to occur and the oxygen fueling my creativity sparks off an idea that typically transforms itself into a string of words. Sometimes the words get written out. Sometimes not. For they aren’t always meant to be seen or known by anyone but me.

This was precisely what took place today. However, unsuccessfully, I did attempt sitting down in an effort to force the word thing out. I even began tip-tapping out something along the lines of…here I am, sitting here, right here, with nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing what so ever to write about, yet here I am…a Pulitzer in the making right there.

Then I got wise.

And I got busy.

Not busy doing.

Not busy being.

Busy having fun.

Busy creating.


I got lost in a sturdy vintage piece that a friend thought I would enjoy restoring.


At first, given the enormity of the piece with all its crooks and crevices, thought that painting would be the way to go. But as I started that process the piece told me…

yes furniture talks to me. Doesn’t it talk to you?…

“the wood underneath all the brown-ness~ is gorgeous. Bring it out. Bring it into the light”


With that I began the daunting task of stripping, sanding, working towards drawing the beauty that has been hidden deeply for years under layers of stain and varnish out and into the light.


For now it is merely one drawer and a-whole-lotta brown yet to be uncovered.

But as I placed the one drawer back into its original spot a thought sparked and words strung together…


There is beauty everywhere. No matter how deeply hidden. We only need to give it the time and care it needs to be discovered, looking past the brown-ness into that which is not always readily visible. (This includes crotchety folks, worn out bodies, scattered minds, tattered relationships, forgotten spaces, discarded pieces.) There is beauty in everything and everyone if we take the time to uncover it. For the beauty is there. It is just waiting to be brought out into the light.

two mothers~


In  a serious tone, she asked “how long did y’all wait for me?” my heart skipped. Well it was more than just a skip, it was a jump, a somersault, and a cart-wheel all at once. Quickly praying for guidance and for words that as an adult I could not fully wrap my mind around yet now hoped that a 7-year-old would somehow be able to comprehend. Taking the longest inhale, holding her hands, I launched into ‘the conversation’…

“pretty much waited and prepared for you my whole life.  Ever since desiring to be a mom I would pray for a child that I could lovingly guide and whose life I could be a vital part of. To be honest, I secretly and sometimes not so secretly hoped for a daughter. And in all those years that I longed for, waited for, and prayed for this child, even with all the hurdles that were placed in front of, somehow, I felt at the deepest part of my being, that when the time was right it would happen. And while, I never anticipated that we would go half way around the world to become parents…for YOU, baby girl, I would have willingly waited for as long as necessary and would have gladly traveled to the ends of the earth. You were always meant to be ours. And we were always meant to be yours.”

Exhaling the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I stood there waiting and wondering what she is thinking? Had what I said sufficiently answered her question? Did it sound to her little ear like a silly cliché even though every word was sincere and deeply heart-felt? Would the next question be why did they give me up?, or did they not want me?, or could they not care for me? Or any of the other million and seventeen questions I might have asked if in her place. Being honest with every action and word since the moment we met, my mind quickly went to was I truly ready to answer any and all questions she might need answers to?

My mind a flurry with questions I’d presumed would come my way, when she looked up at me with her gorgeous brown Asian eyes, smiling she said “I know all that. No, what I was wondering how long did you and daddy sit on the black sofa in China and wait for the nanny to bring me out to meet you?”





“only about 10 minutes”

and just that quickly her curiosity was settled and off she went back to what she was doing before.

My daughter and I share a completely open line of communication. Absolutely nothing is off-limits. From time to time she has asked things that have answers that are far beyond her grasp. Yet I will still answer each to the best of my ability. Sharing what I believe she can take in given her level of maturity and understanding at the time of the questions. Sheltering her from time to time when she is not fully ready for the entirety of it. It has consistently been this way. For this and so much more I am thankful for the relationship we have created.

The conversation that took place when she was seven was not the first we spoke about her adoption. In fact, how we became a family, is a treasure to us. One that is fully embraced, highly cherished, and proudly shared. We adore that she became ours through such a loving process. We have talked openly about the history of China, with their one child policy. We have looked at pictures of the orphanage where she spent her first 13 months. We’ve discussed the possibilities of her having unknown siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins… As she got older and began to understand why families in China were not willing/able to keep their daughters, she felt sorrow for the insufficient value placed on girls and the lack of worth she feels is granted to women in her birth country. One of her heart-felt desires is to see this eradicated in her lifetime.

Fortunately she has never once felt unwanted, unloved, or abandoned. She has only known an abundance of love, unconditional acceptance, and complete embracing from her entire crazy family (her description). She is ours. We are hers. She is, and loves in return, enormously.

The only other time my gal has come to me with a question in a somewhat serious manner about her adoption was in regards to her birth mother. She asked if I knew what she looked like. Even though I believe she knew the answer prior to asking. Since she knows that her story, and our limited knowledge of her history, began on the steps of an orphanage in Nanjing China. Once again taking her hands and looking deeply into her eyes I answered with the utmost sincerity… “I do not, but she must be breathtaking to have had a daughter as lovely as you.” I went on to say, still with a resolute knowing “she loved you very much, of this I am certain, for she took a huge risk to leave you on those steps, out in the open, allowing you to be discovered and quickly cared for”. Once again satisfied with the answer she hugged me tightly.

Today it is rare for us to think about or discuss how we became a family. Just as I imagine folks who have kids the natural old fashion way don’t spend their days sitting around thinking and talking about their child’s birth. We just live each day in love, with a great deal of laughter, and an unfathomable amount of homework.

But every once in awhile and particularly on days like today…my gal’s 14th birthday, I will think about the breathtaking woman in China and say a prayer of gratitude for her courage and her precious gift.





Hunting in my own home~

Y’all I love to hunt!

There is such a thrill of getting out there into the unknown, the anticipation, the search the hope, that the perfect ‘trophy’ will come into range.

My hunt however has never been with guns, rather with an open mind and creative spirit.

My hunting grounds…

thrift stores

salvage yards

used furniture stores

and from time to time if the bounty is just right…other folks trash.

In fact found some excellent shelves for my bathroom just this way, however now my family will no longer walk the neighborhood with me on trash nights.


Rarely do I have a strategy or solid idea of what I am hunting for. I just head out and allow the imagination to run wild. Sometimes there will be a need that I am trying to meet, such as rods for curtains that require hanging and come across old scroll iron work that creatively fit the bill while meeting the need.

Or a desire to have a bedside table and stumble upon industrial shelves, that beautifully provided additional storage.


The current need around here became apparent as we were getting ready for an annual New Year’s tradition…Star Wars movie marathon. My gal, instead of sitting on the sofa in the TV room/studio, brought cushions from another room’s sofa stating “the sofa out there is so uncomfortable”.

And as I settled in next to her and her giant panda that was our movie guest/pillow for the night. I agreed the “floor sofa” was indeed more pleasant to sit on and made a promise I’d begin searching for more comfortable seating during my upcoming hunting trips.

Now friends I fully intended to keep my promise in a timely manner, even though, right now, every dime I’m able to save is being saved for new kitchen counter tops. Yet I knew I could pursue this promise by perusing with patience the wonderful discarded sofas and chairs out there. Having just helped a friend replace a sofa with just such an excellent find and in the process spending less for this well made, vintage, curved, corduroy sofa than we would have for a venti Starbucks cappuccino.


So off I went goodwill hunting and happened upon not a sofa but a fabulous idea…

In one of the used furniture store they had a twin bed set up with a king sized headboard running along the backside. It was an ingenious idea that turned a twin mattress into a day-bed/sofa. Forgoing the continued hunting excursion. I headed home tearing apart the currently unused metal farmed twin bed that had been my daughters, handed down to her from one of her grandmothers. Then searching through boxes found a quilt my dad gave me when I had left for college almost 30 years ago. Scooping up all the extra pillows I could find around the house, and securing old doors as our ‘sofa’ back…I fulfilled my promise before we began watching Return of the Jedi and without spending a cent.


So before you shop retail, check out second-hand stores, and before you go there, hunt your own home. There is treasure everywhere!

Y’all tell us about some of your excellent finds, repurposed items, and creative resources.