Clay Pot

A Norfolk Island pine tree was recently gifted to us, and the only pots at W*M in the frosty months are clay — not a living room fit — but I bought the clay, determined I could do something to cause it to blend.

Enter tablecloth fabric scraps and Mod Podge.

"Are you ever going to do anything with that clay pot?" came the eventual query yesterday.

So I did.

I don't know what happens to wet or damp decoupage (do you?), but I've a sneaking suspicion it ain't pretty, so I'm keeping a liner inside the pot.

Too obviously, the dish extends beyond its perch, but those media cases are sorely in need of attention anyway, having acquired water stains and the telltale signs of one too few coats of paint atop pine knots.  So now we need to rethink and revamp the tops of the cases.

Is it any wonder we still don't have a new bath mat?  If I finish it and flop it on the floor, shall we discover we need new flooring?

I just turned my head for something.  Caught sight of the laundry room curtains.  I don't like them.  Uh-oh.

So that ye come behind in no gift; waiting for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ: Who shall also confirm you unto the end, that ye may be blameless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.  God is faithful, by whom ye were called unto the fellowship of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord.  1 Corinthians 1:7-9