Vintage Paint by Numbers

Many times when Biceps and I are out on tour, milling about in some thrift store, I see them. They call to me.
They tell me they need a home, that they are sweet and colorful and lonely.
But, like my retro refrigerator dishes, I have been banned from buying anymore Paint by Numbers.

So my obsession currently stops with these below.

This was my first paint by numbers. My virgin purchase, if you will. I fell in love with this forlorn puppy, and for $12 it was mine.

He resides in our guest bedroom, and if you ever visit, he will watch over all of your goodies and not let Cowboy sit on them.

I bought this at what was advertised as an ‘Estate Sale’.
‘Estate’ it was not. The house was weird, stinky and had an entire notebook filled with the lives and deaths of numerous bunny rabbits the owner apparently kept.

I disinfected Jesus properly as soon as I got home.

Grandma Greiman painted the next three you will feast your eyes upon.
This one was never framed or displayed in her home. I am excited to exhibit it in my home as soon as I can convince Biceps it fits into our decor.

Notice Grandma’s take on the colors on this painting versus the one above I bought at stinky rabbit house?
We recently found out that Grandma is color blind. How cute is that? She has never known this all these years!

This paint by numbers, I believe, is the creme de la creme. I slept many a night under the watchful eye of Jesus at the farmhouse in Iowa. This was my one request when she decided to move to town.

I needed Jesus. And Jesus was given to me.
Isn’t that just typical of Him?

My Neighbor’s Garden

I have neighbors that are really there for me when I desperately need them.
Like when I desperately need their garden booty to make Pico De Gallo, Bruschetta or Shrimp Pasta Primavera.

This pleasant little harvest came from the neighbor that we are building a front entryway for.

She loves to bless me with tomatoes and I do not want to rob her of this blessing.
I like to eat this blessing.
Home grown tomatoes embarrass the store bought ones any day. They have the most wonderful, full flavor a bruschetta lover could imagine.

Don’t even get me started on the hot peppers she has given me. One of these cute little jalapenos has flavored an entire bowl of Pico de Gallo. The gentle spiciness mingles with the lime juice, onions, cilantro, green peppers and tomatoes oh so well.
I am in love.

These mild peppers have graced everything from my salads, to grilled sandwiches (which we call ‘sandies’), and taco meat.
So yummy.

I have never met a tomato I didn’t like. Unless of course you count the days when I was less than fifteen years old.
I was stupid then. I didn’t know the pleasures of a sun-ripened tomato.

This little guy intimidates me. It is a spicy red pepper. He has been staring at me every time I open the fridge door. I mean, just look at him.
Take a really good look at him below.

I think he’s yelling at me.

Here is the Crème de la crème. This fragrant basil grows in my neighbor-to-the-north’s front flower bed.
I cut a sprig of this lovely herb and sniff it for the next five hours.
I know, I am weird. But, it just smells so dang good.

I am so thankful for neighbors. And especially thankful for the neighbors with gardens.

Retro Refrigerator Dishes

I have an addiction. I can’t stop. My hubby has tried to get me to quit. But, I just can’t. I want to stop-mostly because I am running out of cabinet space.

But, how can you say no to these?

They’re bright, they’re fun, they stack on top of each other. You can’t argue with my logic here. And when I see them all alone at the flea market, the wallet starts to come out.

These dishes come from a time when Pyrex was still a trusted brand. A time when you knew they wouldn’t possibly explode in the microwave. A time when they made things in primary colors, just for fun.

And these two cute little dudes? They hold leftover veggies or sauces or whatever you need them to, even if it’s sauerkraut.
They are up for the challenge.

“Hey, Rebekah! Thanks for giving us a home. And we promise never to leach toxic chemicals into your food, like those plastic guys do.”-Mr. Pyrex Dish.
How sweet! He cares about toxins going into my food. What a kind dish.

“Hey, who are you calling toxic?!”-Mr. Plastic Tupperware.
“Hey, if the shoe fits, Plastic Boy…”-Mr. Pyrex Dish.
Oh, dear. This could get ugly. What’s Mr. Pyrex Dish doing? He’s coaxing Mr. Plastic Tupperware closer.

“Crunch, munch, slurp…”-Mr. Pyrex Dish.
I had no idea my glass dishes could be so protective.

“BURP!”-Mr. Pyrex Dish.
Oh my. That is something no one should ever have to see. I need to get back to some happier times.

Ah…that’s better. Serenity now.
And I don’t think there’s any hope of me changing anytime soon.

Tony Horton and P90x

“I love him, but I hate him.”

P90x has never, ever, ever, ever heard of me. Never. Not once. Get the picture? However, if they knew the amount of free marketing I was giving them by telling all my friends about it, they might think twice about ‘ol Rebekah. They may even throw me a yoga mat or a ‘recovery drink’.
I love these workouts, and I’ll tell you why.

The workouts are well,…they’re just really hard.
And I love to workout. Always have. Makes me feel less guilty when I buy a box of Mike & Ike’s and eat them all in a single sitting as I watch ‘The Biggest Loser’.

And I would rather be doing this over P90x most mornings. But I force myself to wake up (actually Cowboy won’t let me sleep in once the alarm has gone off). I put in another grueling P90X DVD and listen to Tony telling me to do things I don’t want to do.

But I need to give you a bit of a disclaimer: Tony says some weird stuff sometimes. Things like this:
“That’s the gruntin’!”
“Nice muscles, dude.”
“The Makes snakin’ contact, elbow, thigh!” (no idea what he was trying to say here.)
“Oh, no! Tops are coming off!”
“Yummy, yummy, yummy!”
And the cronies in the videos with him add to the weirdness.

His favorite cronie, Dreya Webber, is that kid in class you want to punch. She actually gives Tony advice on how to make a move better. But Tony doesn’t mind and just flirts with her relentlessly, although I am pretty sure she’s a dude.
The flirting is kind’ve weird.
Yet, somehow you end up liking Dreya, too. But, that doesn’t stop the urge to still punch her.

Once you get into it, you really start to look forward to the next time Tony screams: “I know it burns! It’s supposed to burn!”

Ah. P90x. I love it, but I hate it.
My sick obsession.