How do you define hot mess? Let me give you a hint.
I made a Halloween quilt to display over the mantel. I used an extraordinarily-flamboyant orange fabric. And some seasonal black to go with it. As well as vibrant turquoise. And purple. And then I hung it in a room with red-trimmed curtains. What was I thinking?
I don't have one single photo of my mantel with the wallhanging. I realize how disappointed you must be. Just know that your eyes are thanking me. And you won't need counseling to overcome your PTSD.
I've hated it every single time I walked by. For years and years.
I put up all our Halloween decor at the beginning of the month except the obnoxious wallhanging. I told myself I'd wait until right before All Hallow's Eve so I wouldn't have to look at it for very long.
Then I realized I had no intention of ever hanging it up again. Ever ever ever.
No matter how much time, effort and thought go into a project, sometimes it's a failure. I'm specifically blaming the orange in this case. It's loud enough that it practically fluoresces in the dark. I could donate it to a local construction company for their employees' safety vests and I can guarantee that even a driver on a cellphone would avoid them.
On the other hand, last year I grabbed a stack of nice autumnal fabric from my stash and quickly put together a little Halloween gem that I promptly gave away.
A small quilted wallhanging that has orange and black and purple--but in lovely mellow October shades. It lives at my sister's home.
I made a Halloween quilt to display over the mantel. I used an extraordinarily-flamboyant orange fabric. And some seasonal black to go with it. As well as vibrant turquoise. And purple. And then I hung it in a room with red-trimmed curtains. What was I thinking?
I don't have one single photo of my mantel with the wallhanging. I realize how disappointed you must be. Just know that your eyes are thanking me. And you won't need counseling to overcome your PTSD.
I've hated it every single time I walked by. For years and years.
I put up all our Halloween decor at the beginning of the month except the obnoxious wallhanging. I told myself I'd wait until right before All Hallow's Eve so I wouldn't have to look at it for very long.
Then I realized I had no intention of ever hanging it up again. Ever ever ever.
No matter how much time, effort and thought go into a project, sometimes it's a failure. I'm specifically blaming the orange in this case. It's loud enough that it practically fluoresces in the dark. I could donate it to a local construction company for their employees' safety vests and I can guarantee that even a driver on a cellphone would avoid them.
On the other hand, last year I grabbed a stack of nice autumnal fabric from my stash and quickly put together a little Halloween gem that I promptly gave away.
A small quilted wallhanging that has orange and black and purple--but in lovely mellow October shades. It lives at my sister's home.
Have you every seen a happier Frankenstein? He looks like he's waiting for pumpkin muffins to come out the oven. Totally content.
The difference between the two pieces is kinda like choosing a double espresso before bedtime instead of a cup of warm milk and a cookie.
Like feeding your toddler all the Halloween candy at one sitting and letting him wash it down with a Coke instead of dipping graham crackers in milk one by one.
Like growing your fingernails extra long to scratch that chalkboard instead of listening to a dove coo.
Like...well, you get the idea.
Fortunately for me, I'll be at my favorite quilt show this time next week. And I'll be looking for some fabrics that will play nicely with my family room decor. Maybe next year, I'll have a Halloween wallhanging that doesn't make me cringe.
Bring joy,
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