Cribs, frames, blah, blah, blah...

I am up to my eyeballs in crap stuff to paint. I've probably sustained brain damage from the paint fumes inhaled over the past week.





My life is so glamorous I can barely stand it.






Nothing makes you feel more like a lady than sweat and an overspray pedicure.







Some random frame pictures found while cleaning up my CF card.





This girly frame was actually a tin frame.

Painted mat...

...with a big monogram...

and a distressed red frame.

Speaking of distressed - that's exactly how I felt yesterday when my Baker , a sweet six year old with a strange sense of humor and enormous vocabulary, made a girl cry.

Evidently, she told him he was a lousy checkers player - so he told her "Well, your mom has a hairy chest."

Where the heck did he come up with that?

He tearfully apologized to her dad, and I scurried away before the mom had a chance to ask what happened.

We had a long talk about being kind to others, and a checkers lesson.

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