How To Make An Antique Mirror

You can take any ordinary piece of glass and make it look like an antique mirror. The process is fairly simple and makes a big impact to any piece. I chose to try it on my curio cabinet, which is from the late 80’s. I was tired of seeing everything inside of it, so this is the perfect solution. For now, I’m only going to show you the door, but I’ll show the rest of the curio, when it’s completed. Here’s a list of supplies you’ll need to get started.

Painter’s Tape
Newspaper
Glass Cleaner
Paper Towels
Spray Bottle
Distilled Vinegar and Water
Mirror or Looking Glass Spray Paint
Flat Black Spray Paint

The first thing to do, is tape off your piece with painter’s tape. I also used newspaper to keep the paint from getting on the wood frame. The next thing you’ll need to do, is clean the glass, inside and out. You can use glass cleaner of your chosing and dry it with paper towels. You’ll be painting the backside of the glass, which is the side you will not be seeing, when the project is complete. You’ll want to make sure it’s free of any hair, lint or dust, because whatever you leave on the glass, will be trapped under the paint and visible from the front side.

Once your glass is clean, mix a solution of 1:1 water and distilled white vinegar in a spray bottle. Shake it up, so it’s mixed well. Spray the vinegar/water mixture over the backside of your glass. In my case, that would be the inside of my glass door. An even mist is fine, but if you add some larger random drops, it adds a little more character to the piece.

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Immediately after you’ve sprayed your vinegar solution, spray an even coat of the looking-glass paint over the vinegar. You’ll see bubbles, which is exactly what you want. The vinegar reacts to the paint and creates discolored spots and doesn’t allow the paint to adhere to the glass.

This paint starts to dry quickly. When it’s beginning to dry, use a piece of paper towel to dab all the vinegar and water spots. I like to use a slight twisting motion when I dab, especially along the edges. This removes more paint to give it that aged look. You can lift your glass up to see the other side. If you see enough spots to your liking, then you’re ready for the next step. Otherwise, you can spray more vinegar and water, spray another layer of looking-glass paint and dab some more. Just remember, there is no perfection to this.

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Once you’ve dabbed all of the droplets, spray an even coat of flat black spray paint over the looking-glass paint. You may need to do two coats of the black spray paint. Now, you’re not confined to black paint on this step. You may also use a gold or bronze paint. Do whatever makes you feel good. This is your piece. antique mirror8

Flip it over and check out your results. Once it has dried completely and you’re happy with it, remove your tape and enjoy your antiqued mirror!

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CBD Oil

I have osteoarthritis in my left hand, particularly my thumb. It’s painful, especially with my career as a hairstylist. I had a cortisone shot last year and that lasted a solid six months. It was wonderful, but slowly it wore off and the pain reared its ugly head again. I received another cortisone shot over the summer. This time it only lasted about a month. I hated the thought of having to get those shots more frequently and I knew I wouldn’t go that route. Cortisone does cause bone loss. Osteoarthritis deteriorates the joints. Sounds like the perfect combination to put a person in a wheelchair. No thanks!

The other option is surgery, which has a three-month recovery time. I don’t know anyone who could take three months off work without pay. So that’s not a viable option.

I spent time between clients, taking ibuprofen and rubbing the joint of my thumb. I’m not comfortable taking ibuprofen so regularly, but the pain makes it necessary. My father did that a few years ago and landed himself in the hospital with kidney failure. The doctors concluded it was a combination of ibuprofen and another medication. Since I’ve inherited different ailments from my father’s side, I worry my kidneys may react the same as my father’s did. I needed another alternative.

I was so worried about the future. How many hours will I be able to work? How many clients will I lose? Will this get worse? How long can I continue to work? What other jobs are out there that don’t require my left thumb?

A young client asked me how my last cortisone shot worked. When I told him what a failure it was, he suggested CBD oil. He said his grandmother swears by it for her arthritis. I decided to try it. What could it hurt?

I read several articles about CBD oil. CBD stands for cannabidiol. It’s a cannabinoid from cannabis sativa, which is marijuana. CBD oil contains no THC, the cannabinoid that makes you high, which is why it’s legal. You do not need a medical marijuana card or prescription for this. Not only does it help with pain, but also anxiety.

I looked online for the most reputable companies, the top 20 list. From there, I browsed their websites, cost, shipping, quality, reviews, etc. I can’t purchase anything willy-nilly. I settled on one out of California. It showed up at my door on Friday and I started using it immediately. I put a couple of drops (or three) under my tongue for about a minute and then swallowed. This particular one tastes like vanilla, so the aroma and taste are very pleasant. Its recommended use is twice a day or as needed. The first couple of days, my pain level was very high, so I used it 3-4 times a day. On my days off, I used it twice a day, morning and night. The days I worked, I used it three times a day. cbd oil

Today is Thursday. I’m six days into use. I cannot stress enough how much this has helped. I didn’t have to rub my hand between clients. I wasn’t in pain every time my thumb had to hold the comb, pinch the hair or roll a rod. Because I wasn’t experiencing the pain, it was so much easier to concentrate on what I was doing and what my client was saying. I had no need to take ibuprofen, which means I don’t have to worry about what sort of damage I’m inflicting on my organs or bones. I haven’t had any negative side effects. I am completely amazed.

I was in tears this morning, after I realized I woke up without pain in my hand. I sent a text to my client this morning, thanking him for telling me about CBD oil. I had no idea it was an option and he has no idea what he’s done for me, just by telling me about it. I’m going to make sure every person I know hears about CBD oil. I highly recommend you try it. You think you’re tired of hearing about crossfit, gluten-free, vegan, fortnight or even Jesus? Just wait!

Faux Brick Wall

Redecorating, it can be fun and also overwhelming with all of the options and decisions. faux brick1 My living room is small and the walls are pretty boring, aside from the bright teal. I’m done with teal and ready for a shabby country cottage. It needs character and charm, something fresh but aged. The room really needed a focal point, other than a television. I love the look of painted brick, preferrably shades of white, maybe a whitewashed look. I’m in the mood for a creative challenge, so we’ll see where this ride goes.

After checking on some of the faux brick panels, I didn’t like the repetition in the pattern and I was worried about the seams being visible. I also wanted the edges to wrap around the corners of the wall. I saw the brick wallpaper and that was a bigger no than the paneling. There are some great painting techniques that have the illusion of dimension, but I wanted to be able to touch the wall and feel brick. All applications have their place, but I wanted this brick wall to be believable.

I found the technique that would give me all of that and at half the cost of the brick faux brick wall2 paneling! It’ll give the look and feel of brick and the textures and color will not be in a pattern. Basically, all that’s needed is 3/8″ masking tape, joint compound and paint. First, I needed to figure out what size bricks I would like to see and what layout was appealing. I looked up brick walls online and scrolled until one jumped out at me. I loved how one row had longer bricks and the next row had shorter bricks. After deciding on two different sizes: 8 1/2″ x 2 1/4″ and 4″ x 2 1/4″, I used a tape measure and level to mark the grout lines. I wanted to make sure my lines were fairly straight and level. I carefully place my tape. This was the most tedious and time consuming part of the project, but I was really happy with the pattern I chose.

The next step is spreading the joint compound. I used a metal flooring trowel, because that’s what I had on hand. You can use whatever you’re comfortable using. I’m comfortable not spending more money if I don’t have to!

You can play around a little bit with the texture you want to achieve, whether you like your bricks to look rough or smooth. You can also use a wet sponge to create a different texture. You can even press leaves or shells into your compound at this point. Get as creative as you like! Mine resembled stucco and I liked it. Once your joint compound is completely applied, you can carefully pull off the tape. This is a bit messy, but fun!

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Now you play a waiting game and let the joint compound dry completely. This can take several days, depending on how hot and humid it is. I knew by the sweat dripping down my back it was going to take a few days for mine and it did. The really fun part is painting the “brick and mortar.” You can use whatever colors make you happy. I started by giving mine a coat of country white to cover the teal lines. It needs another coat. As you can see, this technique using joint compound allowed the bricks to wrap around the corners of the wall. I’m already in love!

I like the rough look of the “bricks,” but I decided to clean them up with a chisel to give them a softer look and feel. I pass these corners often and I’ll be straight, my elbow caught the corner a few times and it burned like hell. If I left it as rough as the above pictures, my elbows would be skinned on the daily. If you just want to clean them up a little bit, you could use sandpaper. Do whichever you desire!

After using another coat of country white, I was then going to dab shades of gray and terra cotta onto the bricks with a sponge, then whitewash the brick with watered down country white. But once I stood back and looked at the solid country white, I decided to wait and wear it for awhile. Maybe I’ll add some color later, but for now, I’m calling it done. It adds texture and character to a boring wall. I love it!

My First Time

I’ll never forget my first time. I don’t think anyone does. I’m not the first person to have cried during or afterward, right? Since the first time, I’ve now had experience with many, some people I’ve known well, but most have been strangers. I find that knowing the person really well, makes it a bit more difficult. Strangers are much easier, because there are no emotional attachments or memories. I’ve now been paid multiple times for my services, which is a great feeling and the pay is fantastic. Here’s the story of my first time.

A long time client of mine had passed away. The next evening I received a call from her son, asking me to style his mother’s hair for her funeral. I said I would do it, without any hesitation. Did I just say yes? I’m going to do a dead person’s hair? I remained calm on the phone, but I could feel my heart racing with anxiousness. I knew his mother must have requested it. I was honored. It would be the very last thing I could ever do for Louise. I had to do this.

The funeral home contacted me the next morning to set up a time to come in and take care of Louise. We set up an appointment for the following afternoon. My mind began to race with questions. What do I wear? How does any of this work? I had no idea what I would need to do, what equipment I needed, how Louise would look or where I would be styling Louise within the funeral home. I barely slept that night, because my mind wouldn’t shut off. What was I so worried about? There are people who do this for a living every day. I was certain those people slept at night.

The next day, I started sorting through the clothes in my closet. I felt I should wear something more than jeans and a t-shirt. I settled on black slacks and a flowery blouse. I packed up every possible tool I would need in a big canvas bag. Even with deodorant, I was sweating like a priest in confession, before ever leaving the house. I hopped in the car and blasted the music, hoping it would take my mind away from the heavy feeling in my chest. I focused on the music and my breathing.

Before I knew it, I was in the parking lot. I parked the car and took the keys out of the ignition. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I closed my eyes. Breathe in through the nose, breathe out though the mouth. I did this several times, until I felt slightly buzzed. I knew I needed to move quickly and get out of the car before the oxygen buzz wore off. Otherwise, I would feel stuck again and need to repeat the breathing exercises. That may sound silly, but it works for me.

Walking through the parking lot, I had a sudden surge of confidence. I entered the building and approached the receptionist in the office, pretending this wasn’t my first rodeo. “Hi, my name is Wendy. I’m here for styling services.” The receptionist told me to take a seat and someone would be with me shortly. I sat down and within moments a tall, lanky, suited man approached me. He had a broad smile and large teeth. He addressed me by name and asked me to follow him.

I followed him to the back of the funeral home. We walked through a door, which led to a staircase. We headed downstairs. The basement? Isn’t this where all horror movies end? At the bottom of the stairs, there was a small seating area and a door. The door wasn’t a pretty wooden door like the others in the funeral home. This one was gray and steel. It made a loud clanking sound when it opened and again when it closed.

On the other side of the door was Louise. She lay lifeless on a table, covered up to her neck with a white sheet. Her skin was an odd shade of pale bluish-gray. Her white hair was standing on end, away from her face. It was a little shocking at first. I could feel a lump forming in the back of my throat. My insides were feeling shaky. After setting my bag down, the suited man spoke, “Her makeup isn’t done yet.” He chuckled. I jumped at the sound of his voice, for I had nearly forgotten he was still there. By the way, could he have stated anything more obvious?

I plugged in my curling iron and blow dryer and started wetting down Louise’s hair with my spray bottle, because it would need to be dried in a different direction. I turned on the blow dryer, which was a nice break from the awkward silence and smiling stares of the suited man. As I finished drying her hair, a phone rang. The suited man excused himself to take the call. I was relieved he left.

Louise was always a straight shooter, said what she thought and did not use sarcasm sparingly. As I sorted through my memories of her, I began curling her hair. I didn’t realize I was crying, until a tear ran down my cheek and landed in Louise’s hair. I quickly found a tissue in my bag and wiped my face. I smiled, wondering what Louise would’ve said to me for crying into her hair.

The suited man returned, smiling, “I apologize for taking so long. Are you okay?” I nodded. “Some people freak out and can’t finish the job.” He chuckled again. “Oh….you don’t have to do that.” I was laying the comb on the scalp, under the curling iron, so as not to burn her. “The iron can’t burn dead skin.” Again, with the chuckle.

I didn’t know that, but it didn’t matter to me. “I guess it’s just habit. I’d rather treat her the same, as if she were alive.” There was nothing funny about my statement, but the suited man laughed loudly anyway. I finished up Louise’s hair and began putting my tools away.

“Would you like to pick up the check? Or we can send it to you?” The suited man asked, as I tossed the last of my belongings into the bag.

“I don’t want to charge them anything. It’s a gift for Louise.” The man nodded and I looked at Louise one more time before leaving the room. I jogged up the stairs and through the door. I didn’t slow my pace, as I thanked the suited man, nodded to the receptionist and quickly walked out of the funeral home.

I breathed in the outside air and hurried to the car. Once I was in the car, I cried. I cried hard. I wasn’t exactly sure why I was crying so hard, but it felt good. It was like the lid came off of a pressure cooker. There was an overpowering sense of relief. A weight was lifted. I blew my nose and quietly laughed over the suited man’s words. Was he nervously waiting for me to freak out?

As I pulled out of the parking lot and put on my sunglasses, I told myself, “That wasn’t so bad… for my first time.”

The Painted Recliner

This tired red microfiber recliner was orphaned to me. At first, I didn’t know what I would do with it, aside from donation or the curb, but then I remembered seeing something online about painting upholstery. I did some research and found several people who have tried it with success. So that’s what I did! painted recliner1

Isn’t she a beaut? I was over the red color and wanted to do something light and fresh. I settled on a pale lavender. I used a flat latex interior paint, fabric medium and water. The mixing ratio was 1:1:2. It’s very runny, so cover the surrounding area with something, if you don’t want paint on the floor. For this project I used about a quart of paint and almost four bottles (32oz.) of fabric medium. I used a regular small paint brush and 220 grit sandpaper. Yes, you need to lightly sand your fabric after each coat of paint has dried completely. It sounds really strange, but it works. The sanding keeps the fabric feeling soft and flexible.

Just give the chair a quick vacuum and once your paint mixture is blended well, you can start painting!

Here are the first, second and third coats. I will admit, after the third coat I nearly called it quits. I didn’t think it was ever going to start covering that red microfiber.

Since I had already told several people that I was going to paint this upholstered recliner, I had to finish it. Sometimes peer pressure and judgement are awesome motivators! The fourth, fifth and sixth/seventh coats were starting to show some promise. You can see in the third picture below, parts of the chair had six coats and parts of it had seven. I got excited and forgot to take a picture before starting the seventh coat, you understand.

By now the arthritis in my hands was inflamed and I was experiencing some mild cramping in my legs and hips, but the end was too close to stop now! The eighth coat would be the final coat. After the final coat, I used a hot blow dryer on low to heat set the entire recliner. Then I used a clear cream wax over the entire chair and buffed it out. The cream wax made it feel even smoother and softer. It also gave it a soft sheen.

Now, the chair no longer looks or feels like microfiber. If you were to only use three or four coats of paint, it would feel similar to outdoor cushions. But because I had to use eight coats for coverage, it feels like some type of pleather. It’s smooth, cool and soft to the touch. It’s flexible and very comfortable. I really am pleasantly surprised with the results! painted recliner7

Misophonia- All That Noise, Noise, Noise!

misophonia4 Misophonia is the hatred of noise, in case you didn’t know that yet. I’ve seen a lot of articles about it recently. It’s something I’ve experienced most of my life, but never knew it had a name. It’s considered a mental disorder, which I find mildly disturbing, but can completely agree.

As a child, I remember hearing and watching my grandmother move her mouth around and click her dentures. Not only did it annoy me at 9 years old, it made me feel nauseous. The sound was both aggravating and gross. Watching her do it intensified those feelings. The same thing would happen at the dinner table with my grandfather. He was a lip smacker. Listening to him eat anything juicy or greasy was a nightmare.

Now my father is a lip smacker like his father before him, especially when he’s eating fried chicken. My mother needs to suck her teeth for half an hour after a meal. Even though I love these people, I want to scream the worst profanities at them when they’re making these noises. That sounds awful, but it’s the truth.

misophonia1 The feelings these noises provoke are anxiousness, frustration and rage. It’s really a horrible feeling, because it makes a person feel out of control. The guilt for having these feelings is a little hard to swallow once the rage has passed. The fleeting thought of throwing a fork in the forehead of a loved one, simply because they’re smacking their lips or chewing, seems completely irrational any other time. When the sounds seem magnified, knocking the person out of the chair would logically give some relief. Of course, that would be an insane reaction. Leaving the room and getting away from the sound is the only way I find relief. Otherwise, I will glare at the individual until they look at me with fear in their eyes and realize I’m about to blow.

For me, it’s become so much more than clicking dentures, lip smacking or sucking teeth. It’s the sound of the crinkling potato chip bag or that weird noise people make in the back of their throats, for no reason at all. It’s the sound a loud swallower makes when they take a drink or the sound of silverware against a plate or bowl. It’s every possible mouth noise. Fingernail clipping makes me want to throw my fist through a wall. Tapping a pencil too long can be a trigger. When we had a dog, the licking….oh my God…the licking!

The older I get, the worse it has become. I’ve even gotten to a point of aggravation, when certain words are pronounced a certain way. Take the word “shrimp” for example. I have a client who says “srimp.” I have to try to change the subject or walk away every time she says it, because it annoys me so badly. Do you sriek every time you see srek? Probably not, so don’t skip out on that h. Another client says “and everything” at the end of nearly every sentence. She also smacks her lips constantly and she isn’t eating anything. I have to excuse myself and go to the bathroom to close my eyes and take deep breaths. She is a sweetheart, but the relief I feel when she’s out the door is euphoric.

Yes, I know I sound like a crazy bitch right about now.

After seeing several articles and posts about misophonia, I worry this is going to be the new trendy thing, like having a clown phobia or being introverted. This isn’t cool. This isn’t pleasant for anyone involved. It is a daily struggle. I hate feeling this way. This is not something that can be satisfied with an eye roll. When someone is crunching on potato chips, an Ally McBeal bowling ball to their face might be satisfying for a moment, but then the crunching continues. misophonia2

What can you do if you live or work with someone who has misophonia? Whatever you do, don’t blow them off as if they’re being dramatic. Try to be understanding. If you’re eating something, then offer some to the person who’ll be annoyed by your chewing. Sometimes their own chewing will drown out the other noises. Pay attention. If you see jaws or fists clenching while you’re eating something, find out what is bothering them. If they’re choking a fork while glaring at you, put down whatever you’re eating and run like hell.

My son, who also has some issues with noises, puts his potato chips in a bowl, so I don’t have to hear the bag. He never clips his nails in front of me and most of the time, he eats his crunchy snacks in the other room. It’s the little things, that can prevent you from being on the receiving end of a misophonic rampage.

The Happy Tree

I saw a project in a magazine about two decades ago. It was one of those projects I was apprehensive about starting, maybe because I wasn’t quite sure I could pull it off. Well, I just got to it this spring! I know, it took me long enough.

I was in the mood for some whimsy in my backyard. I enjoy looking at things that make me feel happy and hope it does the same for others. There’s a large old maple tree in my backyard. Every year it loses a limb and looks more sparse. I spray it for bugs, particularly ants, for fear they may be killing it. It always buds out in the spring, but has lost its shape since lightning claimed its vertical stem. It looked a little sad, which is why it was the prefect model for this project.

tree man If you’re truly interested in doing something like this, know that it takes several hours. I mean several…enough to create days, which turn into weeks. I believe this took nearly six weeks for me. I didn’t keep track of the actual hours, but several of those days were rainy or things were too wet to work on. You’ll also need some time for your product to dry or set. We all have other things to tend to; jobs, children, dinner, laundry, family obligations, good television, etc. It’s not like we can devote several days strictly working on a happy tree, right?

The first step was picking a tree, of course. Once you’ve decided where you want to see your smiling tree, you’ll need to build a basic shape for your facial features. I spray painted a general smile so I could use that as a guide. I used pink foam insulation to build the base, because I already had several random pieces stored away. Why? Because I thought I might need it someday. You can also use styrofoam. You can tack them onto the tree or use glue. I used both.

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Next, you’ll need to build onto your base. For this part, I used bondo. Yes, the bondo used to repair the body on vehicles. It’s messy and stinky. You’ll want to wear gloves and if you have any type of lung issues, you may want to wear a mask. Mix the bondo per directions on the can. I mixed small amounts at a time, because you have a limited amount of time to work with the product, before it begins to set up. At that point, you have to stop, because it will no longer spread. To push the bondo into all the nooks and crannies, I used an old butter knife. It’s a knife I use for projects like this. You can also use a larger popsicle stick or small putty knife.

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Once you get going, you can add more foam right over the bondo if you need more depth or decide the shape isn’t quite right. You can see, I added eyebrows. Once the bondo has set up, you’re ready for another layer of bondo. At this point, I grabbed the mixed bondo with my gloved hands and began slathering the bondo onto the facial features. This was messy, but saved a lot of time and you’re able to mold and shape the face easier. When I first sat down with my gallon of bondo, I had no idea how quickly I would go through that. I would be running back to the hardware store for three more gallons! Once you’ve applied your final layer of bondo, you’ll need to give your face some lines resembling bark. Try to follow the same pattern as the tree bark. For this, I used a dremel tool with a small bit. Dust flies around for this, so keep the mask handy.

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This is where the face really comes to life. Once you’re done with your carving, you can paint. Try to match the paint to your tree bark. I used a dark shade for the base coat and then I dry brushed the lighter shades over the top. If your tree has a lot of moss growing on it, then you may want to add some green to your face. It may grow on its own over time!

And lastly, the eyes. I decided to go with something more natural looking that would blend with my tree. But you do whatever is in your ketchup bottle! Paint them any color you want and get as fancy as you want. This is your work of art.

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After you’re satisfied with your painting, you’ll want to spray it with a clear acrylic protective spray or sealer. This will help protect your art from the elements and prevent fading.

It feels good to see a smile first thing in the morning. My son is older now and has grown to hate mornings. He walks through the house like a crabby ogre who hasn’t pooped for days. Sometimes there’s brief eye contact and a grunt. So, I sip my coffee, pet my cat and look out the kitchen window.

Good morning, Happy Tree.

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The Story Behind Holy Water in a Ketchup Bottle.

ketchup-clipart-4 My eccentric cousin, who we’ll call Cher from now on, loves all of the mystical practices, including fortune-telling. I’m in no way against these practices. I find them fascinating and interesting. I do believe some people are scammers who prey upon the most eager. Cher is certainly one of those most eager and it shows.

She walked into a tent at the County Fairgrounds to receive a reading from a fortune-teller. The woman spoke of a long line of illnesses and deaths in the family. (If you’ve ever researched your ancestry, every family will show a long line of illnesses and deaths.) This fortune-teller knew Cher was on the hook, so she told Cher the illnesses and deaths were due to a family curse. Curse?!

Well, we must do something about that, right? The fortune-teller knew how to lift the curse, but it would cost another $100 for that information. This fortune-teller may have been able to see Cher’s eagerness, but had no idea how cheap she was. Cher was tight. The kind of tight who gives $10 in a wedding card from her, her husband and two kids. The kind of tight who buys a three-piece gift set and splits it up to give three separate gifts. So $100 was out of the question and laughable. Cher left the tent, determined to find out how to lift the curse. If only the fortune-teller had known.

Cher had a friend, who was a Native American medicine woman. (Of course.) This medicine woman was happy to give Cher all of the information she needed to lift the curse. Free of charge! All she needed was a sage plant, a white candle and holy water. I have no idea what holy water has to do with Native American culture, but who am I to question it?

I received a very excited phone call from Cher, explaining all of this information she received from the medicine woman. She then explained that in order to have a successful curse lifting, as many family members as possible should participate. She said that we should light the candle and sprinkle the holy water in each corner of the house, while repeating a chant. I asked, “What about the sage plant?”

Cher paused, “I think it’s just there.” Makes perfect sense, right? I then explained that I purchased my home from a pastor, so I was certain my house had been blessed, possibly several times. I tried so hard to politely tell her I thought it was unnecessary. I hung up the phone chuckling and shaking my head, thinking that was the end of that conversation.

I was wrong.

Over a week had passed after that phone call with Cher. I was working one evening, alone with my client, when Cher unexpectedly showed up at the salon. She was smiling broadly and carrying a brown paper bag. She could see my surprise as I greeted her. She sashayed past me and spoke in a low and suspicious tone, “I got the stuff,” then continued through the salon into the backroom.

I nervously looked at my client through the mirror. She had a confused look on her face, no doubt wondering what illegal substances were in the brown paper bag. I excused myself, as I sighed and rolled my eyes, before heading to the backroom. Cher stood proudly next to the bag, still smiling. Impatiently I asked, “What’s going on? What stuff?” I was clearly annoyed to anyone paying attention. Cher didn’t pick up on that.

“The stuff to lift the curse!” Cher pulled out the candle, the sage plant and a piece of paper with writing on it. Those were the directions and the chant. Next she pulled out a plastic ketchup bottle with a clear liquid in it. I asked what it was and Cher exclaimed, “It’s holy water!”

I couldn’t believe what I was looking at, a plastic ketchup bottle with holy water in it. I was afraid to ask, “Where did you get it?”

Cher: “At the Catholic Church.”

Me: “What…they just hand out holy water?”

Cher: “Noooo…It’s right there in a big sink when you walk in.” She laughed like I was being silly.

Me: “You stole it?? How did you remove it?”

Cher: “With the ketchup bottle.”

Me: “Oh my God. Okay…I have to go back to work.”

Naturally, my client wanted to know what that was all about. So I told her the whole story. She laughed. I laughed. We bonded over my cousin and her craziness, you understand.

I did not follow my cousin’s instruction, although I told her I did. Will I go to hell for that? We’ll see. I guess it boils down to, what makes a person feel better? Did Cher find comfort in performing this ritual on her house? Did it bring her peace? If so, then good for her. For me, it felt silly, unnecessary and pointless. In the meantime, people still get sick and die, with or without a curse. I guess one could say, this is the ketchup bottle we call life.