Love and Asian Jasmine

Were you expecting a sneak peek of Nicholas Sparks' next novel?

It's actually the love story between my gardener and me. OK, I don't really have a gardener. I just like saying that because it makes me feel like Katherine Hepburn in Philadelphia Story - lazing on a chaise lounge with a mint julep in hand. 

He's really one of the landscapers who works on the common grounds of my neighborhood and we're not in love. I don't even know his name. I'll call him Johann. (I'm also fairly certain he isn't German/Austrian/any kind of European.)

In my neighborhood, each house is within courtyard walls. I have a carport and a gate that both lead to my front door. It's my job to keep my carport clean and the plants within my courtyard alive and beautiful. (I'm terrible at the alive part.)

Every Monday, a landscaping crew comes to our little neighborhood and does some upkeep on the parts of the neighborhood that don't fall under the "within the courtyard walls" category. Johann is part of that crew. 

I usually see him blowing leaves off of the cul-de-sac as I leave for work. One day a couple of months ago, he even cleared my driveway and carport of debris after a storm. 

Well, I guess you could say things are getting serious because today I opened my front door to find that not only was my entire courtyard leaf-free (it was completely covered last night), the Asian Jasmine that had begun its slow takeover of my patio was trimmed back perfectly to the edge of the sidewalk. And there was Johann, just outside my courtyard wall, slowly blowing leaves off of the street in front of my house.

This is Asian Jasmine. It's a type of ground cover that covers ground pretty quickly.

That is love. Being paid to only maintain the common grounds, but clearing a stranger's courtyard in 95-degree heat just because it needed done.

Lately I've been growing more-and-more impatient now that the students are back in town and traffic has increased tenfold. Johann's selfless gift this morning made me think about my actions and my words. 

Maybe these people I'm being short with have something else going on in their lives. Maybe it's a freshman who just stopped at a green light because he's trying to find his class. Maybe he's just left his parents for the first time and is afraid to admit that he feels like he's in over his head. 

Maybe that woman who just cut in front of me at HEB is about to send her first child off to kindergarten and she's too overwhelmed with emotion to notice what's going on around her. 

Maybe the house with the unruly Asian Jasmine belongs to someone who hasn't had time to really notice that it needed trimming. 

The beginning of fall seems to be a stressful, busy time for everyone. This year, I'm going to try to be a little more like Johann.

Help me I'm poor..

I'm not really poor. I just love that part in Bridesmaids. Kristen Wiig is a comedic genius.

I'm not poor, but I AM on a strict budget. "Yeah, yeah we're all on a budget," you say. No - I'm really on a budget. I'm on the type of budget where you cringe when people ask you to go out to eat...where you want to throw a fit in the ground beef section of HEB because a pound of hamburger meat is $3 and you were hoping it was fifty cents...the kind of budget that makes you wonder which of your organs are actually vital, and how much you could get for the non-vital ones. I'm fresh-out-of-college-and-recovering-from-shopaholism poor. 

It's true - I'm a recovering shopaholic. I'm the girl with a walk-in closet overflowing with clothes that I never really loved and never really looked great on me...plus there are four Rubbermaid bins full in the hall closet. Luckily, I was taught at a very young age that credit cards are the worst kind of addictive drug, so instead of going into debt, I just lived beyond my means and scrambled to make ends meet at the end of the month. 

And now I'm paying for it. (No pun intended.) I'm growing up and realizing what's worth it and what's not. I really want to travel and see the world, but I can't afford a trip to London with my friend Allison AND a new wardrobe every season, so I'm learning to compromise. Texas doesn't have seasons anyway. My 4-year-old pea coat will do just fine for those 10 cold days - good thing I bought a classic one!

When I look back at my New Year's resolutions, they all come down to one thing: growing up. Living life the way it was meant to be lived, and not the way People Magazine tells me it could be lived. I'm not a reality show star, so I need to stop living like it! (Those people all go bankrupt at least once anyway.)

Here are some steps I've taken to grow up financially:

• Get rid of cable. It sounds crazy, I know. How will I know what happens between the Gorgas and the Giudices on Real Housewives of New Jersey?! What will become of the relationship between Kris Jenner and her kids on Keeping up with the Kardashians?! (Don't act like you don't have embarrassing shows you love.) The truth is, I was just wasting time - I don't care to keep up with the Kardashians. And when I do, there's always the Internet and hysterical recaps by Ashley at Pink, Blonde, Texas. And the Giudices are one of those bankrupt reality families, according to People Mag. For the rest, I have Netflix and a lot of really good books.
• Save for what you need and then see what you want. This one sounds so elementary when I type it, but I was in the habit of buying the five pairs of new heels that I've worn maybe once and THEN worrying about how to pay the electricity bill. Now, I have a strict budget set aside for the necessities (tithe, bills, rent, car payment, car insurance, etc.) and anything extra at the end of the month goes into savings and a travel fund. That way when the time comes for the big London trip, I won't have to worry about how poor it's going to make me. 
• Budget groceries. You know what's hard? Being on a grocery budget AND trying to eat healthy AND being allergic to everything. I would love to live off of 10 cent peanut butter sandwiches, but that probably wouldn't be healthy and I can't eat gluten. How much does your milk cost? $2? $3 for a gallon? Mine is $6. So grocery shopping on a budget is a real challenge for me. I go to the store with a list of 15 things and sometimes I only leave with five of them. I have to prioritize. I have to find food that will go a long way. I can't buy bleu cheese and whatever specialty nuts I want anymore. But it's possible and it's kind of fun. (So if you see me at HEB with a confused look on my face, I'm not lost. I'm trying to do math in my head.)
• Use cash. Dave Ramsey says this all the time. Buy with cash. I withdraw $50 per week to be used on gas and groceries. (Yes, total.) It's a lot harder for me to overspend when I can look in my wallet and see how much I actually have left to spend. 
• Plan. Think about what you have coming up! Does your oil need changed soon? Do you have a long drive in the near future that will require a lot of gas money? Are there birthdays or special events in the next month? Most gift-giving events aren't a surprise. I've already done most of my Christmas shopping for my family and now I won't have one huge bill in December. Space your buying out over the year. The same goes for meals and clothing. Will you need a dress for a friend's wedding in three months? Start looking now - chances are you'll be less likely to make an impulse buy on an ugly, overpriced taffeta sack if you know you have plenty of time to find something better.
• Get creative. My parents gave me a sewing machine for my birthday last year and I'm finally getting acquainted with it. I've already done some hunting for discount fabrics and am planning some custom pieces that will combine my love of fashion with my slim clothing budget. Creativity can also help my cashflow in the kitchen. It's a new challenge to concoct something from what is already in my fridge and pantry.

I'm part of what I call the "complaineration": a generation of whiners.  So rather than join the masses who bemoan their situation, their jobs, their coworkers, etc., I'm going to rejoice in my blessings and take on (and defeat!) the challenge that my hardships bring. It's time to grow up.

One girl's medieval is another girl's treasure

I'm a rescuer by nature. I was always the kid who brought home stray kittens, and I was a lifeguard in high school. Actually, I once brought home a box of kittens from my job as a lifeguard, but that's a story for another day. 

This time, I rescued chairs. Not just any chairs. I rescued what were arguably the Collier family's worst heirlooms: the faded, cheesy "throne chairs" from Oma and Opa's house in San Antonio. 

Aren't they just fit for a (has-been) queen?!

I'm not sure where these fairytale beasts came from, though we think they were purchased when my grandparents still lived in Alvin. Of course when I was little, I thought they were magical, velvet-covered (it's probably velour) status symbols that proved that somewhere in the Collier line was royal blood. (There isn't, unless you include my sister's and my reign as Comfort, Texas, royalty on the town court...)

So when my Oma had passed away and it was time for my Opa to move out of their house several years ago, our family went through their belongings to decide what went where. Oma's China and several pieces of furniture were divvied up between the three kids and their offspring, but nobody wanted the throne chairs. When my mom told me that they were going to the neighbors or Salvation Army, I convinced her that a little elbow grease, some paint and some new fabric could take the thrones from the girl at the beginning of She's All That to the girl at the end of She's All That. (Seriously though, how did Freddie Prinze, Jr. NOT see that she just needed to lose the glasses and get a haircut?) It should be noted that I never would have made that suggestion were I not the daughter of an interior-decorating genius. 

So off went the throne chairs to live in my parents' storage unit for about six years. Originally, there were going to go in my parents' new house, but these babies are giant, solid works of art that need their own special place. Also, my mom is a chair hoarder so it was just overkill.

The decision was made a few months ago that the medieval monsters would take another trip, this time south to my house. They again sat in a storage shed while my mom and I plotted and planned and mustered the courage to get the party started. We wanted to paint them white or off-white, and recover them in a navy or coral-colored, textured animal print. Alas, none was to be found, so we decided to go with a white, distressed look on the wood and this blue cabana stripe on the cushions, along with a blue ticking, to give the feel of a Nantucket cottage. 





BUT THEN my crafty cousin Kelly over at Life in the Middle sent me a photo of some dusty blue leopard print from Fabric.com. That fabric was too muted for what we were looking for, but it inspired us to look at something a little more funky. After all, I'm 25 and single and one day I will be married to someone who will channel Kelly's husband, Kevin, in asking me why I "can't just buy a stripe".

After a little perusing, my mom discovered this fabulous, bright, salmon-colored flamingo print.

(This photo makes the color look much more orange than it truly is. The photos of the finished product are better representations.)

It made me want to sing Copa Cabana at the top of my lungs, so it was the obvious, adult choice. Six yards of flamingo fabric were ordered and there was no turning back. 

Manu Ginobili wasn't impressed with my find, but she's a cat and I don't care what she thinks.

 

Apparently the gimp was originally the same color as the fabric, but had faded to a cream color except where covered by nailhead trim. I got to work ripping the old, shedding "velvet" off of the chairs ... I'm sure I'll be vacuuming red fuzz for months ... and discovered a lovely padding substance that reminded me of a mangy sheep underneath. When I peeled that back, I was expecting to see a thin piece of wood that formed the back of the chair, but it was actually burlap.

When all of the fabric was gone, I started taking staples out with needle-nose pliers. Let's just say I couldn't make a fist for a few days when that was done, and my right forearm has taken up Popeye proportions. 

Then the brains of the operation (Mama Collier) stepped in to finish the job. Over the course of a couple of weeks, we finished these suckers.

Some of the decorations on the arm rests had come off, so we popped the rest off with a screwdriver and sanded the chairs down. Then they got a thorough wiping with a damp cloth and were ready to paint.

Before and after a coat of white spray paint.

After painting the chairs white, we rubbed them back with a soft sandpaper to make them less stark. Most of my furniture is a little distressed. After sanding, we wiped them clean again and clear-coated them. 

The guest room became Mama C's workshop, where she used her magical powers to create templates and patterns. She also used a staple gun and air compressor to affix the fabric to the base of the chair after a layer of batting was added on. (I was in my air-conditioned office most of this time. Did I mention I'm the youngest child?) 

Mama C would like to let everyone know that despite her extreme natural ability as an interior decorator, she does not want to help you with your projects.

A few layers of batting on the front and back of the chair backs were glued on before the fabric was pinned in place and stapled around the edges. (The fabric is also not hot pink, as shown in this photo.)

When it came time to add the gimp, the white trim looked too sparkly like a little girl's room. Mama C tried to return it to the fabric store but they wouldn't give her even a partial refund (on 40 feet of gimp!!) because she had cut a small area off where the trim was stretched. So like a true mastermind, she dyed it in a pot of tea. I kid you not. Mama C went Little House on the Prairie on that gimp. (Fun fact: Mama C and I both pronounce gimp "giyump", but say limp and pimp like normal human beings. Also, Mama C wants to know why I would ever say "pimp". She needs to get with the times..."cool beans" is out, "pimp" and "swag" are in.)

The original cushions were actually in pretty good shape and just needed some extra batting, so while Mama C sewed the flamingo fabric into a box cushion, I fattened up the old seats. As you can see from these photos, I was a little over zealous, but the cushions will even out and flatten down after a little use.

My other jobs were to glue on the freshly-dyed gimp and tack on the nailhead trim. I obviously got the easiest tasks in this project. Again: youngest child, talented Mama, lucky me.




The finished product turned out better than I could have imagined. I'm so excited to show off my "new" chairs this fall! And I can't wait to pass them down to my kids - they're already three generations old and sturdy as can be! I won't be offended when they hate the flamingos and want to change the fabric.

The rest of the family abdicated, so we're claiming our thrones! (Mama C always dresses to match her furniture...and yes - I'm really wearing my Miss Comfort Princess sash.)

Mama C in all her color-coordinated glory. I'm so lucky to be your daughter!!

 

Papa C was thrilled to be included in the photo shoot. Aren't my parents precious?! (Mama C wants to point out that since she's wearing the tiara, she's obviously the one in power...which makes Papa C Prince Phillip.)

These former eyesores look perfect in their new spot in the world.

Photobomb! Manu approves.

Here are some parting shots...

 Before...

 ...and after!

 It's good to be queen.