Fab Is Broke-ish: The $64.55 Empire and the Famous White Trash Salad

Broke-ish: The $64.55 Empire and the Famous White Trash Salad

After twenty-two years online, Fab’s blog has earned $64.55, which naturally qualifies her as an internet mogul. To celebrate, she is reposting her most famous recipe: the frozen fruit salad society tried to misunderstand.

Darlings, before Mary was making videos about living well on next to no money, Fab was already running a broke-ish domestic empire from a pastel kitchen with whipped topping and unreasonable confidence.

White Trash Salad

It is a known fact that no matter how perfect your beehive, no matter how spotless your white gloves, no matter how confident you are in yourself and your choices, there are those that will, perhaps, disagree.
I, personally, celebrate the arrival of Spring (and any other festive occasion) with a salad made of fruit and whipped topping. Frozen fruit salad, fruit enrobed in drifts of whipped topping representing the exit of winter and the entrance of spring. I look on this ritual as drama, a connection to the great continuum of the turning seasons, food fraught with meaning not to mention frozen fruit salad is just yummy!
However, as stated above, there are those that have not embraced their inner Fabiola and therefore do not understand the symbolism and yummyness of Frozen Fruit Salad. Therefore they refer to my extravaganza and celebration of spring (and any other festive occasion) as "White Trash Salad". How sad for them, they have not embraced their inner Fabiola, they do not understand the beauty of the beehive hairdo.
Frozen Fruit Salad (a celebration of Spring and any other festive occasion)
1 tablespoon (1 envelope) unflavored gelatin
1/4 cup cold water
2 cups fruit cocktail
1/2 cup Miracle Whip (not mayonnaise from a jar, not hoity toity homemade fresh fresh fresh, handmade mayonnaise, - tangy salad dressing, I mean it).
1 container Cool Whip (you can substitute your favorite whipped topping)
1/3 cup maraschino cherries drained and patted dry (optional)
1/3 cup chopped pecans
Soften gelatine in cold water, dissolve over hot water - do not add hot water! Place your bowl containing the gelatine and cold water inside another bowl containing hot water - stir until gelatine is completely dissolved. Cool slightly. Add the fruit cocktail (with syrup). Fold in Miracle Whip, Cool Whip and chopped pecans. Add the maraschino cherries last. They will turn your salad a lovely shade of pink.
Pour into an 8x8 freezer safe container or gelatine mold, place in freezer until just firm. Cut the barely frozen salad into squares and serve.


Side Note: The maraschino cherries are optional Fabiola uses them like this:

Maraschino Cherries with Dipping Sauce

You, dear reader, may be somewhat more traditional. If you want the cherries in your frozen fruit salad, drain the maraschino cherries, pat dry with paper towels. Fold into the salad mixture last, just before freezing. Your salad will turn a lovely shade of pink.

You can also visit Fab at her YouTube home, where Mary and Fab are exploring how to live a good, creative, broke-ish life on not much money, with coffee, leftovers, and unreasonable amounts of personality. Link Below.

Fab's World on the YouTubes

I’m Short $300 a Month, So Naturally I Had to Consult With Mary

 

I’m Short $300 a Month, So Naturally I Had to Have a Chat With Mary

Darlings, there comes a moment in a sensible woman’s life when she must sit down, look at the numbers, and say something deeply uncool.

In my case, that something is:

I am short about $300 a month.

Not $3,000. Not “send me to the fainting couch with smelling salts and a dramatic shawl.” Just $300.

But here is the thing about $300: it may not look terrifying when it stands there by itself wearing sensible shoes, but over time, it gets very serious. Three hundred dollars every month is not a little oopsie-daisy. It is a recurring character. It has a speaking role. It wants billing.

So, I sat down with my alter ego, Mary from Wedgwood Cottage Studio and talked through what I am actually doing next.

Not what the internet thinks I should do.

Not what a cheerful millionaire with perfect teeth and a ring light thinks I should do.

Not “Start six businesses before breakfast and monetize your socks.”

No.

I mean what actually fits my real life, my real energy, my real temperament, my real age, my real skills, and my real limits.

Because I am over 60. I am willing to work. I am willing to learn. I am computer friendly. I can do customer service. I have patience forged in the fiery industrial furnace of workplaces where yelling and cursing were apparently considered team-building exercises.

So yes, I can still do things.

But I am also not available for every single idea that wanders by wearing a fake mustache and carrying a clipboard.

The Car Sends a Bill Later

One common suggestion is driving gigs.

DoorDash. Uber. Delivery work. All the zoom-zoom jobs.

And listen, that may be perfectly fine for a more zoom-zoom sort of person. Some people are built for that. They hop in the car, know every shortcut, and have the spiritual stamina to locate Apartment 4B behind three dumpsters and a shrubbery.

That is not me.

For me, driving work means more wear and tear on the car, more time on the road, weather, traffic, variable pay, possible insurance issues, and the general feeling that I have become a one-woman logistics department with bifocals.

Money earned with your car is not free money.

The car sends a bill later.

And my car and I have an understanding. It continues to exist. I continue not asking it to perform miracles.

YouTube Is Joy First, Grocery Money Maybe Later

Another idea people mention is YouTube.

And yes, I am on YouTube. Obviously. Here we are, waving from the tiny digital porch.

But YouTube is not my plan for next month’s grocery money.

It may become income someday. That would be lovely. I would not fling myself dramatically across the piano and refuse it.

But I am not budgeting as though the algorithm owes me rent.

The channel is for joy, usefulness, community, and creative purpose first. If income comes later, wonderful. But possible someday income is not the same thing as dependable income right now.

Those are two different animals.

One is a chicken in the yard.

The other is a drawing of a chicken on a napkin.

Both may have charm, but only one makes soup.

Creative Income Is Real, But It Is Not Fairy Dust

The same goes for creative income.

Cards, paintings, digital products, printables, animations, little useful things — I love all of that. Creativity is part of my quality of life. It is how I stay alive inside my own life. It is meaning. It is play. It is color.

But I am refusing to treat creative income like magical fairy dust sprinkled over the budget.

A creative project can be worth doing and still not be the thing that pays the electric bill next Tuesday.

That does not make it failure.

It makes it not Tuesday’s electric bill money.

The Real Question Is Fit

The real question is not simply:

“How can I make $300?”

The real question is:

“How can I make or save $300 without turning my life into a flaming circus wagon?”

Because a bad solution is not really a solution. It is just a new problem wearing a motivational T-shirt.

So I am asking better questions.

Is this income idea real?

Is it safe?

Does it fit my life?

Is it sustainable?

Not my fantasy life. Not my imaginary life where I rise at 5 a.m., drink lemon water, do yoga, launch a product line, and alphabetize the pantry before sunrise.

My actual life.

The one with dogs, dishes, bills, laundry, poodle hair tumbleweeds, and a refrigerator that has opinions.

Speaking of the Refrigerator

In the video, I also talk about one of the biggest financial decisions I ever made: buying the little HUD house I now call Wedgwood Cottage.

And no, this is not where I say, “Ladies, simply skip down to the bargain cottage counter and select a delightful tiny house with character.”

That is not how life works.

I bought a HUD house about ten years ago for $40,000. In ordinary condition, in that neighborhood at that time, it probably would have been around $100,000.

But it needed work.

Not “a darling weekend with a paintbrush” work.

More like “four hours a day for a year, plus a furnace, plumbing repairs, floor coverings, scraping, painting, scrubbing, and wondering what exactly I had done” work.

Buying a HUD house can feel a little like buying a used washing machine that is unplugged and sitting in the yard. You can circle it. You can squint at it. You can form opinions. But you do not really know what you bought until later.

Still, that decision changed everything.

Because housing is the big one.

Not coffee.

Not crackers.

Not shampoo.

Housing.

When your housing cost comes down, the whole machinery of daily life breathes easier. The electric bill has some wiggle room. The grocery budget can occasionally allow strawberries. The old paid-off car becomes planned grace instead of a daily prayer vigil.

And that is what Wedgwood Cottage keeps teaching me.

Sometimes the biggest savings are not in daily discipline. Sometimes they are in design.

A life that fits costs less to maintain than a life you have to wrestle into submission every morning.

Maybe Independence Needs Better Shelves

I also wander, carefully, with snacks,  into the idea that as people get older, we may need to think more creatively about housing.

Not in a glittery sitcom way.

The Golden Girls made shared housing look adorable, but television does not show you Dorothy discovering that Blanche has never once cleaned the stove.

It does not show the group text about who used the last of the good butter and then fled the scene.

Shared living could help some people. It could also become a casserole of boundary issues if nobody talks honestly about money, privacy, noise, chores, guests, and refrigerator shelves.

But still.

If housing is the biggest expense, and loneliness is real, maybe we have been sold too narrow an idea of what independence is supposed to look like.

Maybe independence is not always doing everything alone.

Maybe sometimes independence is having clear coffee rules and separate shelves.

Not Magic. Fit.

So that is where I am right now.

I am not rescued.

I am not finished.

I do not have a shiny answer tied up with a ribbon.

What I do have is a real number, a willingness to look at it, and a growing sense of what kind of solutions fit my life, and what kind do not.

I am willing to work.

I am willing to learn.

I am willing to build small things slowly.

But I am not willing to lie to myself just because the truth is deeply uncool.

And if you are in a season where the numbers are tight, the options are not glamorous, and you are trying to hold onto both your sanity and your self-respect, I hope you know this:

You are not the only one.

A lot of us were careful long before careful became trendy.

A lot of us do not have secret piles of impulse purchases to cut. We were not out there buying designer leggings, cute water bottles, and nightly takeout. We were already making soup out of whatever was looking nervous in the vegetable drawer.

So the work now is not shame.

The work now is clear thinking.

Real. Safe. Fitting. Sustainable.

That may not be flashy.

But around here at Wedgwood Cottage, flashy is not in charge.

The refrigerator has been consulted.

The math has been faced.

And we are still in there pitching.

_______________________

And that brings us to Mary’s video, where she sits down at Wedgwood Cottage Studio and talks through the actual $300 gap without glitter, panic, or pretending that the internet fairy is coming by Tuesday with a basket of passive income.

She looks at what might really help, what probably will not, and why the best answer is not always the flashiest answer. There is talk of YouTube, side income, driving gigs, HUD houses, tiny refrigerators, Golden Girls-style housing arrangements, and the sacred truth that the car always sends a bill later.

If you are trying to make tight numbers work without losing your mind, your dignity, or your last good mixing bowl, this one is for you.

You can watch the full video here:

I also included a link to the plain-English prompts from the episode, because thinking clearly is easier when you do not have to start from a blank page.

Full Copy and Edit prompt Link: The 5 prompts included are: 1. Personal Fit Worksheet Prompt Use this first to figure out what kind of extra-income work fits your health, schedule, energy, finances, and real life. 2. Skills Finder Prompt Use this to identify practical skills you already have that could be turned into extra income. 3. Anti-Scam Prompt Use this to check whether an income opportunity looks legitimate, unrealistic, manipulative, or like a dressed-up scam before you spend time or money on it. 4. Basic Sorting Prompt Use this to generate realistic extra-income ideas based on your actual limits, schedule, energy, and the skills you identified in Prompt 2. 5. Compare 3 Ideas Prompt Use this after Prompt 4 to compare your strongest ideas and figure out which one is most realistic to try first. These prompts are not here to tell you your future. They are here to help you think more clearly. That matters, especially when money is tight and the Internet is full of cheerful nonsense.

On Leaving Things Unfinished

Loorie sings "Just Breathe (for a little while)"

(Above a link to Loorie's latest song.)

Oh darlings, let me tell you something right off the bat. If you ever feel a little itchy inside because something isn’t finished, welcome to the club. We meet on Tuesdays. Bring snacks.

There is a very specific kind of discomfort that comes from unfinished work, and it’s not the panicky, oh-no-I-forgot-to-pay-the-electric-bill kind. No, no. It’s the quieter one. The one that taps you on the shoulder and says, “You could keep going, dear… but you’re not going to.” And you sit there thinking, Well. That’s interesting.

We’ve been taught to treat unfinished things like crime scenes. Fingerprints everywhere. Proof of distraction. Proof of indecision. Proof that something went terribly, horribly wrong. As if stopping is only respectable if you’ve crossed every T, dotted every I, and stapled the thing shut with a bow on top.

I’m not buying it anymore. I’m too old for that nonsense. My knees creak. I’ve earned opinions.

There’s a big difference, you see, between something you abandon and something that’s simply waiting. From the outside, they look the same. Nothing happening. No motion. From the inside, though? Oh, they feel worlds apart.

Abandonment is loud. It bangs pots and pans in your head. It smells like guilt. It keeps asking you to explain yourself, preferably in writing.

Waiting is much nicer company. Waiting sits quietly in the corner with a cup of tea and says, “We’re good for now.” Waiting says, “No need to shove this along.” Waiting says, “We’re still figuring things out, sweetheart.”

That distinction matters. More than anyone ever tells you.

I have projects of my own perched around like sleepy cats. Not broken. Not sulking. Just resting. I could finish them, sure, but they’d come out stiff and polite instead of true. And finishing something too early has a cost people don’t talk about. Once you declare something done, it’s like slamming a door. Very hard to reopen without feeling awkward about it.

For most of history, unfinished work wasn’t a scandal. Letters went unanswered for years. Ideas lounged around in notebooks without names. Questions stretched themselves across entire lifetimes. In many old traditions, restraint was wisdom. Not rushing was a sign you knew what you were doing.

Modern life, bless its busy little heart, hates that. Everything has to be clear, decisive, visible. If it’s not moving forward, people assume it must be sliding backward. But that thinking squashes the very space where understanding grows.

Some of the best ideas show up after you stop pushing. Not because you gave up, but because you let go of the vice grip. Distance lets things reshuffle. Quiet lets you hear what noise keeps stepping on. It’s not magic. It’s attention behaving itself.

And here’s a truth people whisper but don’t like to admit: sometimes what changes during a pause isn’t the project at all. It’s you. Time adds seasoning. Experience rearranges priorities. Something that once felt urgent might turn out to be decorative. Something you thought was the destination turns out to be a practice lap.

In those moments, finishing doesn’t fix the tension. It embalms it.

Leaving something unfinished can be a kindness to your future self. A version of you who will know more, see differently, or care about something else entirely. That future you deserves a little room.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Not every unfinished thing is noble. Some of them are just a mess. Some pauses are avoidance in a clever hat. Incompletion alone doesn’t tell the story. It’s the quality of the pause that matters.

I’ve noticed that when I stop scolding myself for not finishing something, the work doesn’t vanish. It just waits in a different way. It comes back when it’s relevant again. Often clearer. Often smaller. Sometimes wearing a whole new outfit. That’s not procrastination. Procrastination hums with anxiety. This kind of waiting hums with… well, peace.

There’s also a delightful lightness that comes from not hauling everything at once. When unfinished things are allowed to nap without judgment, the work you do keep going with feels intentional. Less crowded. Less defensive. Like you’re choosing it, not fending off a mob.

This way of living won’t give you tidy conclusions or color-coded systems. It won’t promise efficiency or gold stars. What it offers is orientation. A sense of where you are without yelling at yourself.

You’re allowed to shut the notebook without a final sentence.

You’re allowed to let something wait without turning it into a personal failure story.

Some things finish by being trusted.

And sometimes, thinking for a while isn’t a delay at all. Sometimes, my dear, it is the work.

Mary has done a video on this subject too. If you want to .. Zippy zip over there and take a peek.

Mary on Things Unfinished (for now)

The Dress the Color of a Summer Day

 If memories and ideas keep coming back into your life, You know, an image, a notion, a worry that won’t mind its manners, that memory isn’t broken, it’s probably just knocking.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love a good fixing. I’ve fixed radios with butter knives and once repaired a wobbly chair with a ruler and sheer confidence. But some things aren’t asking to be fixed. They’re asking to be heard. And if you don’t listen, they get louder. Or stranger. Or they move into your toolbox and start shouting.

Which brings me to Mary.

Mary likes to pretend she’s in charge of things. Sweet girl. Very capable. Makes lists. Keeps calendars. Tries to train time like it’s a cooperative pet. It is not.

One June day, an absolutely shamelessly gorgeous June day, all green and blue and puffed-up white clouds like the sky was showing off, I told Mary I wanted a dress the color of that day. Not a sensible dress. A twirly one. A dress with opinions.

I could see it. Full skirt. Sunlight stitched right in. Maybe a little gold headband, just to be polite to the sun. (Whispering, tiara, what girl doesn’t love a tiara?)

Mary sighed.

That’s usually the sound she makes right before she puts me somewhere inconvenient.

Next thing I know, I’m in the diamond-plate toolbox in the back of her pickup, wedged between resentment and motor oil. Now listen, if you’ve never tried to have a meaningful creative conversation next to a leaky jug of 15W-40, I don’t recommend it.

She *said* that she wasn’t banishing me.

(She absolutely was.)

She was looking at nine more hours of driving some loud, dusty contraption … I forget its name, but it smelled like diesel and dust, and she wanted peace if not silence, because that Cumins engine was going to be her background music. What she got was me yelling that a summer-day dress would make everything better just before she fired up that engine.

She never made that dress (until just now). I brought it up from time to time. Because some ideas are patient, and some are persistent, and the good ones are usually both.

That day with the dress and the diesel was around the time Mary finally stopped pretending that her work was separate from her life. As if you can stack the pieces neatly and label them. Creative work doesn’t work like that. It’s one long conversation that you keep bumping into. Sometimes lovingly. Sometimes with a shopping cart.

She started paying attention then. Connecting things. Letting them talk to each other instead of shoving them in boxes.

Now, Fab World—that’s my house, obviously. Or Mary’s house, but properly improved. Same structure, better attitude. And in the garden … yes, garden, because calling it a yard is how nothing grows. In the garden there’s a big old maple tree.

Not a sugar maple. Don’t get excited. Just a regular, magnificent, stubborn old thing. Ninety years, give or take. Which means it won’t be around forever.

That’s the part people get quiet about. Mary and I are glad it’s here. We’re sad it won’t outlast us. Both thoughts can exist at the same time. So Mary did what she does. She brought that tree into her work. Not to explain it. Just to notice it while it’s still standing.

From my kitchen window—yes, my kitchen, with the radio that looks like the grill of a 1958 Hudson Hawk in shadowtone red,  and a pink refrigerator that minds its own business I can see that tree. I sit there listening to the radio and watching time happen.

Now before you think I’m stuck in the 1950’s, let me assure you: I own a modern electronic corkboard. It’s right there on the fridge. Very advanced. Very bossy. It remembers things so I don’t have to.

It’s all very silly.

And very satisfying.

Mary says she uses Fab World to keep time and memory contained. I think she means she needs a place where things can exist without demanding conclusions. When memories get too loud, she puts them here with me. I keep an eye on them. I’m good at that.

Eventually Mary started wondering if everyone does this. Circles the same themes. Trips over the same ideas. Visits the same questions like old neighbors you don’t hate but don’t fully understand either. She used to think it meant she was stuck. I told her that was nonsense.

Some old psychologist fellow once said the mind sends you the same symbols until you actually invite them in. Not to rework them. Not to shrink them. Just to integrate them. Which is a fancy word for letting them sit at the table without an argument.

Mary liked that. Took it as permission to stop fixing herself and start listening.

Time, for instance. Mary and time have a complicated relationship. She once aged herself and her mother an entire year by accident. Told her mother the wrong age with such confidence that they both lived in the future for twelve months.

Now she keeps clocks everywhere. Calendars too. Because remembered time has a tendency to drift, and she prefers not to find herself in June when she was still living in May.

Her stories, her characters—me included—are how she stitches the inside time to the outside clocks. A negotiation. A truce.

Aging surprised her. It surprises most people. You think it’ll be louder or sadder or slower. Instead, it folds. Years stack themselves into moments. Old questions knock again, but differently dressed. She thought her memory was failing. It wasn’t. It was reorganizing.

People think memory is storage. Filing cabinets. Hard drives. Labels and accuracy. That’s not what it’s for. Memory is for coherence. We don’t remember what happened. We remember what mattered. That’s why certain images keep coming back. They’re still working.

That’s why my world is full of objects instead of explanations. A house. A radio. A corkboard. A tree. Things that don’t justify themselves. They just are. The maple tree doesn’t narrate. It stands there and lets time happen to it. That’s more than enough.

Mary finally understood that bringing memory into her work wasn’t about preserving the past. It was about letting the past walk alongside the present without grabbing the steering wheel.

And then there’s voice. Oh, voice comes back too. Not louder. Clearer.

Mary’s voice, my voice, the voices she borrows when she needs courage or distance. Some people argue. Some instruct. Mary narrates. She tells you where she is and lets you decide if you want to sit down for a minute.

I approve.

Voice disappears sometimes because life gets busy. It doesn’t leave. It waits. Aging gives the voices that make up the music of memory permission to sing again. To sing the songs that tell the truth as memory currently understands it.

Meaning works the same way. It doesn’t arrive with a trumpet. It shows up through repetition. Through showing up again and again without demanding a finale. Meaning isn’t an answer. It’s a direction. Or if you ask me, it’s the next step in a waltz.

That’s why Mary makes episodes instead of declarations. Check-ins instead of manifestos. Corkboards instead of conclusions. Attention is maintained, not finished. So if ideas keep returning in your life, it doesn’t mean you’re stuck. It means you’re practicing.

And practice is how meaning keeps its balance while everything else wobbles.

Darlings, before I let you go, I’ll say this. Look back in your memory. Don’t focus on the loud parts. Notice the memories that keep coming back quietly. Those memories might just be asking you to put on a dancin’ dress and twirl.

Now. Coffee’s still on, that old clock is still spinning. And thinking … well.

Thinking is always allowed.

Companion piece where I let Mary talk (Going live on Thursday January 15th): Blogger preview available now through this link: Mary on the YouTubes

 

A Small Win, A Real Friction

Well now, let me scoot my chair a little closer, because I’ve been chewing on something and I’d hate for it to fall out of my head before I say it out loud.

Mary and I’ve been thinking about the difference between being busy and being oriented. From the outside, they’re twins. Identical haircuts. Full calendars. Plenty of activity. But on the inside? Oh, completely different animals. One feels like motion for motion’s sake. The other feels like direction. Like you know which way your feet are pointed, even if you’re moving slowly.

This recent stretch of time handed Mary a small win and a rather revealing bit of friction, and wouldn’t you know it, the two were holding hands.

The small win came first. Mary finally noticed something about her own mind that has been true forever, but that she kept pretending was a character flaw. When she would fall into a project or an idea, She doesn't just lose track of time. She moves into a whole other internal zip code. It’s immersive. It’s joyful. It’s the reason that she looks up hours later with cold coffee and the vague suspicion that nothing is ever truly finished.

For years, she scolded herself for that. Told herself that she needed more discipline. More structure. A firmer hand on the reins.

This time, she tried something kinder.

Instead of arguing with her curiosity, instead of telling it to hush or sit still, she gave it a place to wait. A real one. I boxed it up. Not to exile it. Not to punish it. Just to contain it. The message wasn’t “you’re a problem.” The message was “you matter, just not right this minute.”

And to her great surprise, it worked.

Not forever. Not flawlessly. But enough.

Enough to finish a piece of work. Enough to send it out without sneaking in just one more thought. Enough to move on with her day without that itchy, unfinished feeling. That sense of enoughness was the win. Small, but solid. The kind you can lean on.

Once things quieted down, though, she noticed something else.

The friction.

With the mental clatter turned down, it became clear that she had been walking around with two very different maps in my pocket, switching between them without realizing it.

One map is local. It’s built around home, routines, familiar paths, the creative studio, the places she circles back to again and again. Meaning on this map comes from continuity. From staying. It’s a map of here.

The other map is expansive. It’s meant for long journeys and big arcs. History, consequence, change. It looks forward. It asks who she is becoming. It’s a map of elsewhere.

Neither map is wrong. They’re both good maps.

The trouble comes when she tries to use the wrong one. Or worse, when she expects one map to do the work of the other.

A world map is a marvelous thing. Truly. But it’s not much help when you’re trying to cross the street without getting hit by a bus.

What she is slowly learning is that coherence doesn’t mean stuffing everything into one grand system. It doesn’t mean lining up all of life under a single banner and saluting. Coherence, for Mary, is starting to feel more like orientation. Knowing where she is. Knowing what kind of ground she's standing on. Choosing the right way to see it in that moment.

The small win wasn’t taming curiosity forever.
The real friction wasn’t having many creative worlds.
The insight was realizing that different kinds of travel require different kinds of maps.

Nothing here wraps up neatly. There’s no triumphant solution or final answer with a flourish. But there is relief in understanding what’s actually happening. There’s kindness in realizing that not everything needs to be solved. Some things just need better containers.

And sometimes, my dear, that’s enough to keep going.

If you’d like to hear the longer conversation that grew out of this, there’s a link waiting for you. And if not, that’s perfectly fine. This thought can stand on its own two sensible shoes.

Taking time to think is still allowed.
Even encouraged.

Link to Episode 3 https://youtu.be/eCk-G968H0g

New Year! New Integrated Beginning.

Well now, pull up a chair and let me tell you what I’ve been up to, because it turns out herding one’s own ideas is very much like herding cats. Cats with opinions. And tiny hats.

Mary spent a good long while trying to figure out how to tie all our creative threads into one tidy little bow. Something tasteful. Something sensible. Something that would make people nod and say, “Ah yes, very cohesive.” And then one morning we realized we don’t actually want a bow. We want a basket. Possibly with wheels.

So we made ourselves a new YouTube home called The Wedgwood Cottage Studio, and I’m calling it a new beginning with a straight face and crossed fingers. But make no mistake, We are not giving anything up. Oh no. We are loading all of it into the back of an ancient land yacht of a station wagon. The kind with fake wood paneling and a mysterious smell. And we are driving it forward into the future at a very reasonable speed, turn signal on.

New year, new beginning. Same me. Same curiosities. Same pile of interesting nonsense riding shotgun.

Now, about these opening episodes. They’re about taking inventory. Not the sort where you label bins or solve your life. Just the gentle kind. The noticing kind. The “hmm, isn’t that interesting” kind.

If you’ve ever felt tugged in several directions at once, or wondered whether you’re stuck or quietly, sneakily moving forward, you might recognize the feeling. These conversations linger there. They don’t poke it with a stick.

In the two-part opening, we paused long enough to see what’s moving easily and what’s digging in its heels. We talked about unfinished work, competing projects, and that low hum of pressure that comes from time passing while curiosity keeps whispering, “Ooo, just one more idea.” You know the voice. It sounds friendly but never shuts up.

We noticed how containment can be an act of kindness. How giving something a place to wait can calm the whole room. How sometimes the problem isn’t the work at all, but the map you’re using. A way of thinking that works beautifully for one journey can be wildly unhelpful for another. Like trying to navigate a forest with a subway map. Technically impressive. Practically useless.

And here’s the radical part. We didn’t fix anything.

We didn’t make plans.

We didn’t force tidy conclusions with a bow on top.

Instead, Fab stepped in and told her own story. And Ewen of the Old Trails spoke about winter, truth, and walking carefully. Not as answers. As companions. The sort who walk beside you without grabbing the wheel.

You don’t need to do anything with this.

You can let it land. Or not. You can wander in, poke around, and wander back out again.

The room will still be here.

I’ll be the one by the old station wagon, rearranging ideas and wondering where I left the thermos.

Episode 1: https://youtu.be/0MlsnjdXpyw

Episode 2: https://youtu.be/D4N79ZwYiSE

You're Not Too Old (You're Right On Time)

 

We are changing direction. Slightly. Instead of random thoughts, we are going to try to create a somewhat cohesive continuing story. Welcome to Fab World Studio — a gently magical corner of the internet where imagination still matters (especially after 50). In this cozy opening episode, we meet Fab, a slightly eccentric and endlessly encouraging woman who lives in a dreamlike version of her own vintage kitchen. But something unusual is stirring in the wind... A mysterious sound is disrupting the songs of Loorie, a torch-song-singing sunflower. Is it just the breeze — or the beginning of something much bigger? 🌼 Featuring original songs, original animation (with technology helpers, but the words and the starting images are all mine), and warm humor for creative souls of any age, this episode is a blend of: ✨ Cozy world-building 🎭 Torch-song storytelling 📺 Vintage charm 🧠 Subtle myth and mystery If you’ve ever thought: “It’s too late to start something new…” or “I have all these ideas but no clue what to do with them…” Fab is here to say: You’re not too old. You’re just in time. — 📌 What to Expect in This Episode: 00:00 – A strange wind blows through Fab World 00:48 – Loorie’s haunting torch ballad: “What Is in the Wind?” 02:19 – Fab checks in with Mary on the corkboard Tee-Vee 03:52 – Fab’s monologue: why this world exists 05:06 – Loorie sings “You Belong” 07:13 – Ending Screencaps of Blender Scenes — 🎶 Original Music Lyrics by: Fab World Studio 🎨 Created with love using Blender, ElevenLabs, Suno, Hedra, ChatGPT, and a lot of coffee. — #FabWorldStudio #AnimatedStorytelling #CozyFantasy #CreativeAfter50 #TorchSongs #VintageAesthetic #ImaginationMatters #YouBelongHere #MidCenturyMythic #WhimsicalWorldbuilding

Fab's Simple (but effective) Planner

 

Are you creative at heart… but also tired, distracted, or completely buried under dog bowls, laundry, and other people’s needs? You’re not alone—and Fab is here to help. In this gently chaotic episode, Fab (Mary’s motivational figment with excellent accessories) takes over the week to help plan creative time without guilt, glitter glue, or burnout. Whether you're writing a novel, painting a mailbox, or just trying to knit one row without falling asleep, this video is for you. Simple planning ideas Encouragement to start small A reminder that your creativity still matters (10:00:00) Fab finally gets around to talking about her very simple but effective planner. She wanders :)

Signposts

 

Signposts | A Fab World Monologue About Choosing Your Own Direction What if the signposts in your life never had words—not because you were lost, but because you weren’t ready to choose a direction? In this heartfelt and humorous monologue, Fab reflects on a wooden signpost that’s been with her for decades. Once colorfully blank, the signs now point boldly toward the past, the present, and the future of Fab World. With a coffee cup in hand and her mind full of stories, Fab invites you into her world—a place where imagination isn't an escape, it's a way of understanding. Whether you’re a dreamer, a late bloomer, or someone still figuring things out, this is for you. 💬 From Fab: Darling, I’ve had this signpost in my life for years. It’s lived in drawings, memories, and Blender files. But it never had destinations—until now. This is a monologue about imagination, identity, and deciding where you’re headed—even if it took you a few decades (and one particularly strong cup of coffee) to get there. #fantasyworld So, if you’ve ever kept your inner world tucked away in a toolbox under a bottle of 15W-40 motor oil, this one’s for you. You’re not alone. You’re not late. And yes—you turned out kind of wonderful. Keywords & Hashtags: #FabiolaWorld #AnimatedMonologue #PersonalGrowth #CreativeLife #ChooseYourPath #Storytelling #WomenOver50 #MidlifeJoy #ImaginationIsReal #DigitalDiary #FabWorldStudio #InspirationalVideo #BlenderAnimation #ArtOfBeingMe #Signposts This work has the original characters and scene created in Blender, animation helper in Hedra. I am working on the needed prompts to keep the style and look of the animation consistent. Not there yet.

Noodle the Poodle's Wisdom on Walkies

 

Welcome to the walking wisdom of C. Noodle Kuchan, the calm, classy, and slightly dramatic Black Standard Poodle who believes that every walk is a whimsical story just waiting to be sniffed. In this gentle and silly episode, Noodle reminds humans (especially those fabulously over 50) that walking isn’t about steps, speed, or outpacing the neighbor’s Papillon. It’s about presence. It's about joy. And it’s about letting your dog sniff the fire hydrant for exactly as long as necessary because there might be a mystery unfolding there. Whether you’re a seasoned stroller or a slightly creaky-legged adventurer, this video is your permission slip to slow down, breathe deep, and walk like a poet in fuzzy slippers. What you’ll find in this episode: – Irrefutable reasons to slow your roll – Poodle philosophy on leashes, lampposts & life – Giggles for anyone who’s ever chased a squirrel mentally – An encouraging message about aging with curiosity and calm More C. Noodle Kuchan coming soon! Follow for thoughtful giggles, calm encouragement, and possibly a haiku about bacon. #CNoodleKuchan #Over50AndFabulous #WalkingWisdom #SeniorDogAdvice #SlowLiving #rest #aginggracefully #mindfulness #coffeebreak #fab #FabWorld #selfcare #aginggracefully #lifestylevlog #nostalgic #selfawareness #over 50 #inspirational #livingthedream #poodle #standardpoodl

Fab's Vacation (Sort of) Raise your hand if you have ever spent YOUR vacation on the bathroom floor?

 

Fab took a vacation! Not to the beach… not to Paris… but to her bathroom floor. In this delightfully chaotic episode, Fab shares the highs and lows of her DIY tile project—featuring bad knees, grout wipes made from grocery bags, and a dramatic moment where she had to YouTube how to get up off the floor. (Spoiler: she made it.) Also in this episode: Fab finally tames the sticky note avalanche taking over her desk with a custom digital corkboard made with a little help from ChatGPT. ☕ Whether you're a fellow home project warrior or just here for the laughs, settle in—this vacation story is full of charm, grit, and a very relatable battle with gravity. ✨ Keywords:
DIY bathroom tile, funny home renovation, grout tips, how to get up from the floor, Fab World, quirky storytelling, ChatGPT project, digital corkboard, sticky notes, solo creator life, middle-aged YouTube creator, practical renovation tips, frugal DIY hacks, real life comedy, women doing DIY, relaxing storytelling, happy simple life, self esteem

*** Darlings, I followed the how to install tile instructions in the book Reader's Digest New Complete Do-It-Yourself Manual. There are almost certainly many videos about how to put down tile, This is not a "go for it and see how it works out" sorta project.

Dandelion Bop - A song about Wonderful Weeds

Welcome to Fab World, where things are never quite as simple as they seem… Fab steps out one peaceful morning to gather her beautiful irises, only to spot a single, smug little dandelion in her yard. One tug later—and poof! A dozen more appear. Before long, Fab is caught in a bebop whirlwind of bouncing, blooming, bop-happy weeds! This jazzy story song, led by Loorie the singing sunflower, starts calm and sunny but builds into a full-blown floral frenzy. Don’t worry—everything ends with laughter and a glass of dandelion wine on the back porch. 🎷✨ Lively bebop rhythms, animated storytelling, and a garden full of surprises await! 💬 If you enjoyed this musical misadventure, leave a comment, give it a like, and subscribe for more curious tales from Fab World!

#DandelionBop #FabWorldStudio #StorySong #BebopJazz #AnimatedShort #LoorieSings #GardenChaos #WhimsicalVideo

Making dandelion wine is a simple and rewarding process, that anyone can do at home. All you need is some basic equipment, such as a large pot, a strainer, a funnel, a glass jug, an airlock, and some bottles. You also need some fresh dandelions, picked from a pesticide-free area. Also, please choose an area free from dog traffic. Does the Fab need to elaborate on that? Recipe inspired by the one in the Norge Binding of Culinary Arts Encyclopedic Cookbook.

Dandelion Flower Wine

Ingredients 4 Quarts of Fresh Dandelion Flowers 4 Quarts Boiling Water 1 Cake of Wine Yeast (2-1/4 teaspoons or 1 packet) *see notes on yeast below 3 cups of sugar 3 Oranges and 3 lemons, diced To make dandelion wine: - Pick 4 quarts of dandelion flowers. The best time to harvest them is in the morning, when they are fully open and bright. - Rinse the dandelions and remove any green parts, such as stems and leaves. You only want the yellow flowers. Place in a large heatproof glass or ceramic container with a lid. - Boil a scooch more than 4 quarts of water in a large pot. (some water will turn into steam) - Pour the boiling water over the dandelion flowers. Cover lightly with the container lid. - Let the flowers and water stand lightly covered for 3 days. After 3 Days: - Strain the liquid through a cheesecloth or a fine mesh into a sterile glass container and discard the flowers. - Add the wine yeast, diced oranges and lemons and stir well. - Cover the container with clean cheesecloth place the lid on lightly. Store the container a dark and cool place for about 3 weeks to a month, until the fermentation stops. - Strain the wine into clean bottles and cork them. Store them in a cool and dark place for another few weeks, or longer if you want a more mature flavor. Shorter if you want to see what your Spring juice tastes like. Dandelion wine mixed with flavored sparkling water is a delightful porch sittin' beverage. By making dandelion wine, you can transform something ordinary into something extraordinary, and you, like the Fab are all about the extraordinary. **Notes on yeast. Yes, you can use regular baking yeast, but baking yeast will stop fermenting at about 8% alcohol content. Wine yeast will remain active to achieve about 15% alcohol.