Most freakishly, productive day ever.

Obsessed. I really must be. In between crock pot orders and the hours 8pm - 2:34am, what's a creative girl to do? Go to sleep? Aww...too easy. And all this cool bling and vintage jewelry sitting around. I know, let's make more stuff! Like one-of-a-kind necklaces. Some curios I find, that must be gathered up even though not applicable to slapping into a layer of grout (crucial step for mosaic work) are fabric based. Example: this crazy little polka-dot, abstract owl I found at Lakewood 400.

Me thinks it was supposed to be a shoe adornment. Who knows. I snapped it up months ago, not knowing what its new fate would be. This week, its back clip was removed reconfiguring it to be the star of this black, red and white neck piece. Add a few more dangles here and there - old earrings no longer in ear-lobe service, and...Voila! Completly unique chunky-funky necklace! As if the world really needs one more piece of jewelry. Oh well.

But now I was on a...what'd you call it? Oh yeah. A roll! What else is lying around here dying to reincarnate into a necklace? I scrummied through my drawers-o-stuff. Put on a pot of coffee. Built three more necklaces. Took some photos. More coffee. Designed a quick, little website. More coffee. Bat husband away - "For the love of God Kathleen, come to bed!" - end quote. Finally, finally, Sleep commenced.

In the morning, I awoke. Snapped on my computer. Entered my new URL:

http://www.decktheneck.com/

And smiled.
Now that's what I call a freakishly, productive day.

7-11 meet Norman Rockwell

Lake Burton Grocery has a real name. Lake. Burton. Grocery. But we simply call it Joe's. That because it's Joe who's running the place, and Joe's life-blood sunk into it. Joe and the rest of his hard-working family originally hail from Florida. But he's here in Georgia now, cooking up the best batches of turkey and artichoke dip I've ever had. The "grocery" is hardly just a grocery. Oh no. It's a deli, a kitchen, a place to buy your bait and firewood, grab some Tylenol and ice cold beer. Perhaps not in that order. The place is like something out of the 1930's. Just one look at the old building and ancient gas pumps, give a clue that you're in for a real treat.

When you visit Joe's - I mean, Lake Burton Grocery -follow this plan: First, pull off of Hwy 76W, parking on the splash of asphalt out front. Do not run over any free-range children who've walked up from the lake for ice cream. Do brace yourself to be hit by the scent of bbq wafting from a beat-up smoker to your right. Pause. Breath deep. Walk up, pulling open the old screen-door serving as the grocery's grand entrance. Let it smack shut behind you. Register that oh-so-satisfying sound. Nothing says you've left the city like an anciently painted screened-door banging shut. Step foot over the decade-old, scuffed-up wooden floors. This aint no 7-11. You'll be greeted by a friendly smile and a "How ya doin'?" by either Joe himself, daughter Barbara or a real-deal Rabun County resident.

The front room of the store offers anything a visitor or local resident may need. There's cold drinks and matches. Lighter fluid and tick-tacks. Graham crackers, marshmallows and chocolate for those parents who couldn't get it together, coming up to the mountains without s'mores supplies. There's dog food, canned beans and Starbucks iced coffee in the fridge - for city folks and their ensuing coronaries if gourmet caffine consumption is disrupted. Joe has his wooden shelves stocked with wine (that's for me), fishing line and lures, shampoo and homemade fudge. But wait for it. It gets... better.

Durk's Take-Away is the official name of the kitchen and deli in the next room. This cozy space while small in square footage, feeds masses of hungry. Visitors and locals alike. It's a great mix of people milling around waiting on their BBQ and slaw. The daily menu board will make your mouth water. Realizing you missed home-made breakfast sandwiches makes you wanna kick yourself. Noting that on summer eves Joe produces gourmet take-out dinners, will having you placing an order faster than a...well, lets just say, really fast.

I don't know who the Durk, in Durk's Take-Away is. Usually it's Joe himself back in the kitchen. Looking like a wild mad-man, tongs and cutting knives whirling. Longish white hair attempts escape freedom-fight style under a tightly worn ballcap. His white goatee - much better behaved - surrounds a wide smile of interesting dental work. Joe wields his spatula more like a pitch fork or light-saber. The man is a mix of Sweeney Todd meets Emeril Lagasse. Don't be scared. He won't bite. He just wants to feed your belly.

It's touching how proud Joe is of his place. Last summer he showed me all around the storage rooms explaining his plans and grand visions. He giddily showed off his place like a normal grandpa would photos of his grand-kids. Joe asked what I thought of his ideas, inquiring if I liked the new and improved patio. How flattering. And yes, I did like the new patio - a.k.a. relaxing waiting area. Huge logs-seats and benches provide a fine space to kill a little time while you hang-out. Newspapers lie scatter around underneath a huge map of Lake Burton hung perfectly at eye level. Nearby, that rusty smoker churning out the scent of tantalizing pork being cooked oh-so right. You'd better sit down.

Most of the folks who traverse through the place are salt of the earth. Its sweet - sentimental in my old age I am - to see the local, older guys come in for their morning cup o' jo.. Clad in jean overalls and wilted ball caps, you get the feeling you're witnessing what's been their daily uniform for 60 plus years. However, I can report at least one instance of the direct opposite. It wasn't pretty. High-glossed Range Rover barrels into the tiny parking area like they own the joint. Two people hop out. You know them: Ken and Barbie. Stepping up to the kitchen's counter, Ken can't wait to order those sandwiches. And he's going to do so, with great lunch-ordering authority. However, Joe had stepped into the back. Kitchen momentarily unmanned. My sister, Nicole, stood nearby, holding up the wall while waiting for her own sandwich she'd just ordered. Ken glances around blinking. Empty kitchens confuse him. Darting eyes quickly settle on Nicole. She's positioned on the customer side of the counter - just like he is - but clad in jeans, t-shirt and ponytail. Typical weekend attire.

"I want to place an order," he informs her.
Amused, she looks up. "I think you should."
Ken just stands there. Emaciated Barbie linked to his arm, scrying hungrily, hoping her man will provide.
"Aren't you going to take our order?" Ken demands.
"I don't think so." Nicole informs calmly.
"Why not?"
"Because... I. Don't. Work. Here.

Just then, Joe emerged from his cloisters quickly taking the guy's order. He then handed my sister her steaming-hot BBQ, thanking her by name - as he does all his regulars. But as I stated, this type of customer is the anomaly. Most folks milling around are either up from Atlanta on a fantastic day-drive, or weekending at the lake. Either way, its a prime environment for a lot of happy, shiny people. Often, I've envisioned Vermont's Norman Rockwell - great American illustrator who's paintings showcased small town U.S.A. throughout the '30s - '50s - waltzing into Lake Burton Grocery feeling right at home. It's a special kind of store, with the authentic feel and flavor of a bygone area. And except for the occasional out-of-line Range Rover, you'd almost believe not a day has passed.

Lake Burton Grocery / 7335 Hwy 76 West / Clayton / GA 30525

phone: 706.782.4646

website: yeah, right

I've died. And gone to Edith's Daylilies.

One of my favorite drives through northeast Georgia is lovely, winding Hwy 255 near Clarksville. Heading north, I know that soon the simple two-lane road - hardly a highway - will morph into 197. Which then weaves around the west side of Lake Burton. Another gorgeous slice of sightseeing to be sure. But before all that - there's Edith's Daylilies.

As you approach, a wooden sign stuck in the ground is all the warning one gets. And it's pretty much all one needs. Rising atop a perfectly landscaped hill appears a little white house. And all around it - paradise. It's hard to miss. Edith - yes, there's definitely a real Edith involved - has taken the grounds around her home turning it into a sweetland. If you happen across the scene during peak, you'll hardly believe your eyes. Rows and rows of lilies, in all shapes, sizes and hues. And behind the lines of botanical-garden worthy flowers is an old-fashioned vegetable garden. Behind that, nothing but fields and woods. It's an unspoiled world of loveliness Edith and her grandson Samuel have lovingly created.

At Edith's Daylilies there's an open door policy, with visitors welcome anytime. As they tell folks, "A phone call will assure someone being in the garden, however during the bloom season that is not necessary." The day we stopped by last summer, it was Edith herself who appeared - thin white hair in curlers no less - helping us choose the first of many purchases we'll be making. As friends and family know, I will stop anywhere, anytime to scour a place which looks even half-way interesting. Lily gardens no exception. Though I knew this venture would produce nothing in the way of antiques or rhinestone brooches, I discovered better: a charming lady who's been living among the same gentle hills her entire, long life. Warm and friendly and happy to chat. As if she were downright tickled we'd stumbled by. She spoke of the area and her family homestead where she grew up. Her sparkling white childhood farm home standing proudly just down the road. One of her sisters residing there still.

Edith likes everyone to know that mid-June is peak time in the garden. If you ever stop by that time of year, you'll note all the happy people strolling through the lily aisles, cameras in hand. Sun shinning down, fresh air, just gazing at flowers. All for free. You get the feeling Edith would just as easily talk about a canning recipe, as make a sale. There's no pressure to buy. What there is, are dozens upon dozens of fantastical prize lilies. Some gorgeously healthy mounds born 20-25 years ago. In front of each, a petite medal stake spelling out its stats. Our kids were floored to discover flowers decades older than they. Actually, that was one of their favorite parts of the visit. Seven year-old Hoffman ran from lily to lily shouting out floral inception dates. The whole experience was picture perfect. A charming open-air education for mind and spirit.

If ever you find yourself in that neck of the woods, do your soul and senses a favor and pull over. Hopefully, you'll visit with Edith. She can explain the colorful world of lilies to you. And if you have the time, a smidge more.

http://www.edithsdaylilies.com/

Steelers vs. Snowstorms

Superbowl XLV quickly approaches, and the talk around our casa is mainly of the snowstorm that's hit the DFW area. With many friends and family living in Texas, we've been privy to some first hand stories of the unbelievable snow and ice. Fun to see all the FB pics and kids' reactions to the rare white stuff coming down.
            "We deal with it very well back home," Steelers fan Alex Sax said on his way the NFL Experience fan festival in Dallas. "Here, they don't know how to deal with it. There's no plows. No salt trucks. When we drove from airport, we were the only car on the road."

That could be true. Here in Georgia, we're not exactly used to the stuff ourselves. Recently, school was shut down in Forsyth County for a week straight. Didn't know that was legal. Closing down educational institutions for a solid week due to scattered ice patches and - 'cause it's...cold. We Georgians now turn our attention to our fine southern neighbors in the Lone Star State, hosts of what is sure to be an entertaining Superbowl Sunday. Not long ago, I made a Steelers crock for an avid fan. She couldn't wait to show it to her brothers, and entire family. Hard core Steelers fans one and all. Hmm. I've never created a Green Bay Packers crock. Clearly, this means my allegiance must be thrown to Pittsburg come Sunday. GO STEELERS!

Timpson Creek Gallery. Bring your smelling salts.

Timpson Creek Gallery is a collection of furniture and home decor so beautiful, you might just pass out. Inspirational ideas and outstanding craftsmanship come at you from all angles. Where to look first? Each bed, bench and twisted mountain-laurel shelf is a fantastic stand alone. But it's the creative energy of how they put the showroom together which makes one's heart skip a beat. The place offers a harmonic collection of styles from many genres and time periods. It's a picnic basket of eclectic, mountain and shabby chic offerings all rolled into one. 

But what's truly interesting about Timpson Creek Gallery is the story, the history, behind it. The whole enterprise was the vision of one man, Mr. Dwayne Thompson. Mr. Thompson is Rabun County, Georgia born and bred. He says a large part of influence can be traced back to two high school teachers; as he first developed his woodworking skills in shop class. Hey, that's good news for all you teachers out there, toiling endlessly on today's semi brain-dead youth: a) There's hope. b) Never can tell what's sinking in. With Dwayne, it sunk in. And paid-off.

After college, he was hired by a local furniture company to turn artists' sketches into complete drawings and build prototypes. A few years later, he went out on his own and opened Timpson Creek Gallery. The success of his life's work is staggering: the handmade furniture, eye-popping showroom, year-round art shows. Or how about the "Sticks-N-Stones" dream home he and his wife created - and I say created, not built - for a reason. An ode to master craftsmanship it is. The fabulous rustic-grey exterior clearly visible to all admires from the street. But I won't tell you which one. I will tell you, I get to pat the mailbox as I jog by on weekend runs. It gives me shivers.

Most people who've been to shop class...well, that's it. They've been to shop class. Not Dwayne. You should see for yourself what this man has done with two hands and a truck-load of visionary determination. If you're ever in the Lake Burton area, make sure you stop in at Timpson Creek Gallery, just 7.4 miles - yes, I heart my odometer - west of historic Clayton. Even if nary a purchase is made, the inspirational ideas will stay with you. 

Timpson Creek Gallery a.k.a the shiznit
7142 Hwy 76 West, Clayton, GA 30525
http://www.timpsoncreek.com/

The Spirit of Santa Fe

When the Van Hoosier family of Ft. Worth, Texas isn't working hard around the DFW area, they can be found relaxing at their Santa Fe home. Located a few blocks from the Plaza, their vacation residence offers a welcome respite for family members who gather throughout the year. Talking. Laughing. Cooking. Back to more laughing. Long, happy days are spent at the "The Santa Fe House". A simple, yet perfectly descriptive name used by a young granddaughter. It's stuck ever since. Personally, I've had the pleasure of visiting Santa Fe, New Mexico several times. Every moment more special than the last, especially at holiday time. One Christmas Eve was spent strolling along Canyon Road. It was the most magical night-before-Christmas I've ever experienced. Snow falling lightly, cold penetrating deeply. People stuffed into mufflers and scarves milling in and out of toasty art galleries. Yes, I said mufflers. There were plenty of them. Though I hadn't seen a real muffler in use in, well - ever. Scents of hot cider filled the air, visions of farolitos - those luminous little bags of candles - flickering all around. Really, is there anyone out there who doesn't adore the town? It would not be a safe bet to make.

Recieving the call to put together a crock for the family was an honor. But where to begin? If you think about it, a theme of Santa Fe could be executed many ways. There's the local nature aspect: hiking, snow skiing, gorgeous river adventures. But the town itself is known world over for its colorful shopping, jewelry buying, artists, studios and art galleries. Hmm. Being advised that Roma, the family matriarch, appreciates the arts and jewelry aspect, I decided to go down that route. Also including the local Indian heritage which makes the area so vibrantely unique.

Incorporating real turquoise and loads of jewelry onto the pot was just plain fun. Around the upper-area I strung an entire necklace. I contemplated cutting it up, using the beads one by one, here and there. But then thought, what the heck? Why not adhere the whole necklace intact? Indeed. One of my favorite touches are the cascading charms and jewels coming off the top knob. It was reported to me on receiving the pot, Roma exclaimed, "It's beautiful! I can't possible use this. It's going on display." Oh Roma, please do both! Use it, and keep it out. The mosaics on these pots are very durable; they are created to be put to work!

I look forward to our family's next journey to Santa Fe. It's been much too long. My most delightful discovery on our last trip was the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum. Located right in town, the place is painless to visit. Well worth any effort. Even a non-museum-lover could live to tell. The layout is not too big. Not too small. But juuust right. I myself, could've roamed the place for days. Tantalized is a word that comes to mind. I was stopped short however, interrupted by a phone call reminding me that fine dinning was going on without me. Southwest enchiladas and margaritas. Whoops. Gotta dash!

www.okeeffemuseum.org
217 Johnson street / Santa Fe, NM / 87501
505.946.1000

SAVED! By Tarpon Springs, Florida

Client requested a beach crock blinged out with shells, starfish, sand dollars and...the color pink. I'd never put together a beach crock with anything other than natural shades. Wondering where in the world I was going to find hot-pink and baby-pink shells, the quest began. Internet searches lead nowhere. Michaels and Hobby Lobby - forget it. Antique malls couldn't help me this time. The answer finally came from a historic town north of Clearwater, FL. Turns out that the offerings of Tarpon Springs lend itself to fabulous Greek food, sponge dives, Gulf of Mexico boat tours and...vibrantly colored shells! Though I hand-painted the sand dollars and main shell on the back of the crock, I don't think this project would've been possible without the found objects from a family run store in Tarpon Springs. The gentleman I spoke with about dyed shells had a Greek accent so thick I could hardly understand him. And I loved every minute of our conversation. How good does it feel doing business with real people in lieu of corporations?

Next time you're in the Tampa area, give yourself a day outing to the wonderful town of Tarpon Springs. East Tarpon Avenue is briming with interesting restaurants and antique shops. Dodecanese Blvd is where you'll find the wharf, and Greek spirit which founded this historic Florida treasure.
http://www.spongedocks.net/