Remember back in May of 2008 when I first started this blog and we were living in a barn and my kids were dropping trow all over the place and I was a wee bit frustrated and asked why my family didn’t just rip out my eyelashes one at a time and be done with it already?

And I posted this photo of our powder room?

Guess what?

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My eyelashes overfloweth.

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The problem with having a creative burst is that it’s just, well, that … a burst. A brief respite from the daily grind, coupled with momentary surges of inspiration and imagination that build up into something monumental in your brain but, for whatever reason, are not translated into reality. They’re temporary and fleeting, lasting only until such time as the entire process *bursts* and then deflates because it’s no longer fun and has become something approximating work with a capital UGH.

Then you either wind up with painted but unadorned walls for months or a husband who complains ARE WE EVER GOING TO HAVE SEX AGAIN, depending on what your creative burst was all about in the first place.

A couple of months ago, I had a creative burst for Helena’s recently painted bedroom and by recently, I mean sometime back in January. The term “recently” is relative, just like the phrase “in a minute, honey” which really means “whenever the hell I get around to it, I don’t care what the big hand and little hand say.”

This past week I finally managed to bring my creative vision into fruition:

This is now the only wall decor hanging in Helena’s bedroom but it’s huge and made up of six separate pieces so really, it’s like having a whole bunch of art stuffed in the room, albeit in one spot. And bonus! If you stare at it long enough, you don’t even notice the floor, desk and bookcase decor which is best described as Dirty Laundry Art Deco.

This is what you’ll need to use if you ever find yourself suffering from a similar creative burst:

1. Letters. I used large and extra large paper mâché letters from Jo-Anns. That aisle is, by far, my favorite of Jo-Anns as it never fails to get the creative juices gushing around my brain. If it were up to me, I’d have Roget himself come over and throw up his synonyms all over my walls but I’m married to a man who seeks therapy whenever we veer from the beige paint strips at Sherwin Williams so I have to confine such innovative thinking to the lesser viewed, non-common areas of the house. Currently, I’m waiting for Jo-Anns to restock their “S” because otherwise, when my kids walk into the vestibule from the garage and come face to face with a wall yelling at them in blue and brown paisley to TAKE OFF YOUR _HOES. BECAUSE I _AID _O, they’re bound to ask “Since when do we wear hoes? Who’s O? And why are you helping him?”
2. Spray paint. I use Krylon because it has an awesome nozzle which is easily engaged and requires only a light touch. No need to walk around for days afterward with my pointer finger up in the air so as to lessen the throbbing waves of pain that come with having to exert bionic force to depress a nozzle. With any other kind of spray paint, I’ll use my middle finger on the nozzle because if I have to walk around with my finger up in the air, I might as well have some fun with it.
3. Mod Podge. Did I ever tell you the story about how I once glued my boobs together with Mod Podge? I hope I don’t have to clarify that it was by accident? Fine. Consider yourself clarified.
4. Patterned paper.
5. Whatever embellishments you want to use. This is a 12×12 scrapbook overlay of black random numbers.
6. Sealer. I used Painter’s Touch because it’s what I had on hand at the time but since very little is required, I did not have to walk around flipping anyone the bird for three days afterward.

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And this is what you will do with all this stuff:

First, spray the front and sides of all the letters with black spray paint. It took three coats to get the kind of coverage I wanted. Make sure you do this outside in a well ventilated area and only after you’ve gone grocery shopping. Why? Because when you almost asphyxiate yourself on the fumes, the only response you’re going to get when you stumble into your kitchen and choke out a barely discernible “I can’t breathe” is most likely going to be “Chicken again for dinner? Can’t you make lasagna? Mom? Why are you sleeping on the floor? Can I go to Katie’s tonight instead? Mom?”

Then trace out the letters onto the patterned paper. The easiest way to do this is to the lay your patterned paper upside down on your table and then lay the letter upside down on top of it.

Lay? Lie? OH MY GOD, WHICH ONE IS IT?

Trace around the letter and then cut out your pattern using sharp scissors, but only after screaming at the top of your lungs FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, WHERE THE HELL ARE MY SCISSORS? CAN I JUST HAVE ONE THING IN THIS HOUSE TO CALL MY OWN? BESIDES THE WASHER AND DRYER?

Then Mod Podge the paper onto the letter. Of course, I don’t have a photo of that step because no way was I going to have my brand new Nikon D90 anywhere near Mod Podge. Let’s review, shall we? Did I ever tell you the story about how I once Mod Podged my boobs together? Exactly.

When it comes to Mod Podge, you need a light hand and you need to work quickly. Using a sponge brush, lightly cover the back of the paper as well as the front of the letter you are adhering it to. Do not slop the stuff all over the place. Mod Podge has a tendency to migrate to places unknown. Remember … UNIBOOB. Quickly position the paper on top of the letter and press down and out to smooth out any wrinkles or bubbles. I use a credit card for this. Just make sure it’s a canceled one lest your husband grabs it, hops on line and buys up the earth on eBay, hollering defensively WELL, THEN? WHY’D YOU GLUE THE MASTERCARD TO MY HAND?

Then, using a light hand, apply two or three thin coats of Mod Podge on top of the letters, allowing the coats to dry in between. This will give the letters a nice matte finish. Remember … a light hand. UNIBOOB TO THE TENTH POWER.

For the “A” I painted the front of it white and then, using the same steps as above, simply Mod Podged sections of the numbered overlay to fit on its surface. I say “simply” because it sounds a lot better than saying “Son of a bitch. Shit. Dammit. Shit on a stick, why won’t this work? It’s too long here. It’s too short there. Why can’t I get the “6″ where I want it? Hey! Who the hell took the 8? YOU ARE DEAD TO ME.”

When you are all done Mod Podging and have determined that no part of your anatomy is glued any other part of your anatomy, go ahead and seal your letters. All this means is that you spray them with at least two light coats of the sealer in a well ventilated area. As with the spray paint, it’s a good idea to make sure your pantry is stocked beforehand.

And there you have it!

See? You can’t even tell where I went all Smoky Robinson on it and stained it with the tracks of my tears, can you? It’s a miracle!

Get it?

Nevermind.

I kept the “L” just plain black because I felt the whole piece needed a bit of simplicity in the middle to “ground” it.

Actually, I just didn’t feel like being crafty anymore. But that doesn’t make me sound as smart.

The “H” was done exactly the same way as the “A” except I used circles cut out of black cardstock and a whole lot less profanity.

Oh, and you can see that the top of the “E” bears the scar from where I ripped the price tag off of it before I painted it. I am rather proud of myself for conquering my OCD and anal-retentive tendencies by not spending 4.5 hours sanding the utter crap out of it. Go me!

Yes, this photo sucks because I still don’t know what settings to use on my Nikon D90 when I’m shooting indoors in this kind of light but you get the idea, right?

Now, I’m just waiting for a few more bursts of creativity to hit me so that Helena can get some decorative throw pillows for her bed, stuff for her three remaining naked walls and some cornice boards for her windows. And then, because I’m pretty much over my quota of crafty cussing for the year, we need a big honkin’ burst to hit Nate square in the head so that he can build her a new black bed.

But first we have to catch him and get him to hold still to make him a better target so if anyone wants to help me chase Nate around the yard for a few months, Helena and her room would greatly appreciate it.

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Remember my old dining room?

The one from six years ago, when we first moved into our house? With the dark green walls and the stained carpet and a wallpaper border straight from the clearance section of www.we-sell-ugly.com? Did I mention that the previous owners kept a bird cage in there? With a real, live bird in it and everything? And by everything, I mean feces?

For the first couple of months we lived here, we used this room as a set design for a show called Hoarders which hadn’t even been invented yet. Of course, it helped immensely that Helena had been born with her umbilical cord attached to Toys ‘R Us.

This was the next phase in the evolution of our dining room, after one spouse yelled to the other spouse HOW CAN I POSSIBLY BE IN THE MOOD WHEN OUR DINING ROOM IS BEYOND HIDEOUS?

I won’t bother telling you which spouse I was. I like to keep you guessing!

So we ripped out the carpeting, installed hardwoods and painted. Of course, Helena needed convincing before she would relocate her life up to her bedroom where it belonged but all it took were a few popsicle bribes, mixed in with the occasional Do you want Santa to trip over your Polly Pockets and fall and get a concussion and cancel Christmas? And then she was good to go. It’s amazing what a little positive reinforcement will get you.

Our dining room looked like this for years. A deep, rich, empty red shrine to the echo. Every December, we’d drag the folding tables up from the basement, clamp them together, throw some tablecloths over them and feed fifteen or more people for Christmas Eve dinner. One year, we even kept the tables up and fed eighteen more people for Christmas dinner the next day and then hosted New Year’s Eve to boot! I like to refer to that particular year as OH MY GOD, WHY ARE THERE PEOPLE STILL IN MY HOUSE?

This is what our dining room looks like today, after one spouse yelled to the other spouse HOW CAN I POSSIBLY BE IN THE MOOD WHEN OUR DINING ROOM IS BEREFT OF SOUL? AND I USED A BIG WORD. I WIN.

Guess which spouse I was?

All it took was painter’s tape, one can of gold-tinted primer, one can of gold paint, a trip to IKEA and one entire morning of climbing up and down chairs because God forgot to include height in my DNA. Of course, if you’ve got a husband who thinks it’s a good idea to wake up at 11:30 a.m., four hours after you started priming, only to comment This is all you’ve got done? Hey, you missed a spot while he’s sipping his coffee? Well, then, you’ve also got a husband who must remove the paint brush from his esophagus and finish up the entire room by himself if he ever wants to have sex again.

With me, anyway.

Figuratively speaking, of course! Because it’s not like your husband would want to have sex with me!

Would he?

My newly recovered dining room chairs look phenomenal with the new paint, if I do say so myself!

Which I do. This reminds me …

*TOOT TOOT TOOT TOOT*

That’s me, tooting my own horn! If I waited for Nate or my kids to do it for me, I would be tootless for a long damn time.

Being tootless sucks, in case you weren’t aware.

The paint came from Sherwin Williams (it’s called mannered gold), the table and chairs from IKEA and the wall art from … yours truly!

I couldn’t find anything anywhere that I liked well enough to hang up. You know, with nails? On our walls? Our brand spankin’ new, pristine walls that were freshly painted less than forty-eight hours prior?

*THUD* <———— Nate, passing out from the desecration of it all.

I used something called particle board from the lumber aisle at Lowes. It was less than $4.00 for one 1 x 6 board. I bought two boards and Nate cut them into one foot squares for me. Then I sanded them which was a colossal waste of time because particle board is rough all the way through and I sanded until the cows came home and all I got for my efforts was a nose full of sawdust and a garage full of cows.

Then I painted them black. The squares, not the cows.

Then I used three coats of Mod Podge to glue patterned paper on them. Again, the squares, not the cows.

Then I accidentally dripped Mod Podge down my shirt and glued my mammary glands together and invented the mono boob.

Then I sealed them with two coats of Rust-Oleum’s Painter’s Touch Crystal Clear Matte sealant.

The squares, not my boobs.

I love how they turned out! Again, that would be the squares, not my boobs.

By the way, I have no idea what that whitish rectangle thing is to the left of the wall art. I got all excited, thinking I was witnessing some paranormal activity, like maybe a ghost-wife was inspired to show her ghost-husband how she could do the same exact thing on their walls in purgatory! How cool would that be? But Nate said Calm down, it’s only a glare from the window and I said Well, excuse me, Mr. Killjoy, for not being a pragmatist like you. And I just used a big word so I win. And he said Win what? And do you even know what pragmatist means? And I said I know you are but what am I? And he said You are weird.

And I said Hello? I have a mono boob. TELL ME SOMETHING I DON’T KNOW.

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