While walking leisurely up and down the aisles of a thrift store, I spotted a set of two small dishes that could have been relics of my childhood. I imagine these little dishes were originally conceived to hold dried nuts and candied fruit, but were now sitting on a shelf looking forlorn and forgotten. And at $2 for the set, I could not resist picking them up and setting them gingerly in my basket.
I challenged myself to think about how I could make use of these little glas dishes. I couldn't use them to leave food out (we have birds and dogs who would not hesitate to help themselves). Soap dish? Nope - I use liquid hand soap. Catch-all tray on the vanity? Too many of those already. So, what to do with these rescued pieces?
I decided to give these vintage pieces a little makeover and include them as part of a Christmas gift, creating a personalized touch and a zero-waste packaging - a double win! Here is how these little dishes became Upcycled Trinket Trays:
Step 1
Apply Gesso on the exterior of the dish to create a base on which the paint will adhere. Because these dishes are transparent, the interior will be white regardless of the paint you use on the outside. I tried applying the paint directly to the dish, but it chipped off once dry. Alternatively, you could try mixing in some paint with the gesso to tint it (and let me know how that works out for you). Best to test it out on a small surface first. 
Step 2
Apply paint of choice, two to three coats depending on the viscosity and coverage of your paint. I used chalk paint, which worked well, but decided I wanted a more jewel-tone look, so I added a third layer with basic acrylic paint. Let the paint dry well between layers, and double the time for your last layer.  The design on the bottom reminds me of vintage Tupperware containers!
Step 3
Apply a varnish coat. I used an acrylic paint varnish on the fist dish, and ModPodge on the second. The acrylic varnish had many bubbles (courtesy of my shaking the bottle perhaps?) and thus took longer to apply, and was just a tiny bit sticky to the touch for a few days before it dried completely. The ModPodge went on slightly thicker, without bubbles and dried to a smooth finish. 
Variations
Using acrylic paint pens, I added some white detailing along the diamond shape of the dish. It took two layers and some occasional touch-ups. Then I applied another layer of varnish. To save time, you could simply add this detail once your last layer of paint has dried. 
Experiments
I decided to try using ceramic paint pens on the second dish, sans Gesso, to have the colour show on both the inside and the exterior of the dish. It worked out... moderately well. Without a base coat of primer, the paint in the pens would occasionally rub off, particularly when applying a second coat, or adding the diamond detail colour atop the base. If you are not bothered by slight imperfections ( I think it adds to the trinket tray's charm), this method gives you the added benefit of having the colour show through on the inside (see image below). Of course, adding the varnish seals in the colour and so far it is still holding strong.
You can watch the process of customizing the first dish below:
These trinket trays have now been gifted to the little ladies in my life, who squealed with excitement when they unwrapped them over the holidays. One of these may have been swiped by their mom to use as a soap dish... I encourage you to take a look in some cupboards or explore the offerings at yard sales and second-hand stores and try this easy DIY yourself. If you do, please share your experience in the comments below. For more DIYs and tutorials, you can visit my Youtube channel: bit.ly/PCCTV . Be well, try something new, and create a life (and a trinket dish) you love! xo Katherine
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 Some might say it was forced upon me. I prefer to call it synchronicity. I can’t tell you which came first: the seventh grade supply list, or the calligraphy set. Every year, as the summer months would fade into crisp autumn weather, I would look forward to back to school shopping with the tenacity of an athlete before a big game. The year I turned twelve, I found out I was accepted at a private school my older cousin was attending. Armed with the insider information that we would be required to write with a fountain pen, I scoured the papers looking for the mythical pen once carved from the feathers of birds. These writing instruments had fallen out of fashion over half a century ago. In their stead, drawers filled with one-time use roller ball pens, often with logos and phone numbers of local businesses. Their novelty faded quickly, and I longed for something more - something that would match my love of the written word, something with gravitas (though I would never know then to describe it as such). I started stalking the pen isle of the local office supply store. There, on the bottom shelf, tucked almost imperceptibly under box-sets of Bics, was the wine-red box from Sheaffer containing two barrels, three nibs, and a selection of coloured inks. I tucked it further under the shelf and went to find my parents. For months I begged and begged for the “plume” set (the French word for fountain pen, reminiscent of its ancestral lineage), describing in detail where they could find it, and how useful it would be for my future education. Then, one holiday, I unwrapped a parcel, seated on a carpet the same colour as the prized box set. I was soon to discover that the nibs were too broad, that the requirements for school were for thinner, fine nibs, and that blue ink was the only acceptable colour for our notes and our devoirs. Searching for a fountain pen that fit these parameters would lead me to boutique stationery shops and flea markets selling novelty merchandise from overseas, where I would steadily add to my growing collection. With the rise in popularity of modern calligraphy, not only is access to fountain pens much easier, but there is such a variety that has entered both the mainstream and artisanal commerce - a veritable buffet of craftsmanship.  The fountain pen itself is layered in history. Through this tool we can imagine the writers who came before us, the creation of manuscripts and mathematical equations painstakingly copied out by candlelight, with ink pot, pen knife (aptly named for its original use) and blotting paper the necessary companions of the mighty quill. Though the mechanics of the fountain pen have been updated and simplified to facilitate its daily use in a modern world, something of the devoted effort it takes to write in ink remains. In school, I was taught that writing with a fountain pen requires two things: reflection before putting ink down, and conviction once it was on the page. To this I say, yes and… An open connection to one’s own thoughts, written out in a stream of ink that coaxes a continuity by its very nature. The writer is lured by the flow of ink to use the art of calligraphy (or, as I learned it, “lettres-attachées”) to keep thoughts spilling from mind to paper, barely lifting the point of the nib off the page. This romanticized vision of penning one’s thoughts without censure and without a tidy means of erasing the words on the page can inspire an honesty and a vulnerability in writing from the heart.  Over the years, I have collected dozens of fountain pens, decanted innumerable bottles of ink in a variety of colours, sheens, and drying times onto paper through the precision of metal nibs from fine to broad. I have learned about proper storage, cleaning and maintenance, and the patience required when thoughts are thwarted by an empty ink cartouche. I am still in the process of figuring out how to write with the dip pens I was gifted, and how to alter my technique based on an ink’s viscosity (it’s been a blotchy process). And when it all gets a little overwhelming, I pull out the original set of fountain pens I unwrapped over two decades ago, fill the reservoir with fresh ink, and channel the childlike sense of wonder that inspired this journey.
I hope you get the chance, at least once in your life, to glide the nib of a fountain pen across the smooth surface of a glossy page, to sign your name with a flourish, and to walk away proudly with ink stains on your fingers. Always, Katherine P.S. A little note about how this vignette came to life: I received the latest No+Ro newsletter highlighting Fountain Pen Day on November 2nd, with a giveaway. Entry was simple: {...reply to this email and let us know why you fell in love with fountain pens.} The reply went from email to essay, and this was the story that emerged. Happy New Year! As is customary this time of year, I am once again thinking about habits and resolutions. Having given up traditional resolutions last year, but unable to shake the desire to try something new, I decided to conduct a little experiment: Try out a habit for one week. Seven days. That's it. Then, move on to something else. Wait - what?  Ditch the 21 day habit framework. Give yourself the freedom to try something new every week. I didn't realize I was on to something big until I shared this little experiment in the chat of a webinar, and it got a wave of interest. (Ok, so it was one person, but the host liked the idea too!) They asked about the rules and the different habits I would be attempting this year. There is only one rule: Try the habit for seven consecutive days. By challenging yourself to short bursts, you are building your capacity to stick to a goal with multiple small wins. When the seven days are up, you can move on to something new. I suspect I'll likely loop around to the same few habits over the course of the next 52 weeks, but this method allows for variety and gives me the freedom to choose. So far, here is my list of habits to try, one week at a time:
The trick? Attempt to work on these habits in weekly rotations, at roughly the same time every day (that is why they are split into AM and PM lists). That way, you train your body and your brain to do something at that time, regardless what the habit is; you're conditioning a response to the time, not the action. The idea of using time is not novel, but I am suggesting you don't have to make one habit stick - you will be making the process stick. Who is this habit experiment for? Those who crave freedom within a framework; Those who are too rebellious to stick to 21 days; Those who are curious; Those who want to experiment with new habits; Those who want to approach habits in a playful way.
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