Hippie Sandy's Homemade Crap

Hippie Sandy's Homemade Crap I love creating crafts inspired by color, creativity, and a free spirit. Handmade with love and grooviness.

05/26/2026

Craft cave status report:

30 cosmetic bags/pencil bags are officially finished and ready to go. ✨

At this point my Cricut and I are in a toxic relationship, but look how cute these turned out. 😂

Perfect for makeup, pencils, random cords, receipts you swear you need, or the tiny chaotic objects floating around the bottom of every woman’s purse.

Made with love, grooviness, and just a slight amount of craft-fueled insanity. 🌼✌️

Several years ago, my son surprised me with a turtle wind chime. Since then, it has hung outside my front door through t...
05/23/2026

Several years ago, my son surprised me with a turtle wind chime. Since then, it has hung outside my front door through thunderstorms, snow, sideways Ohio wind, and at least 147 of my emotional support porch sits. 🌧️🐢

This year though? The wind chose violence.

One by one the turtles disappeared. Bells fell off. At one point there was only a single turtle left hanging on like a crusty little warrior screaming, “NOT TODAY, SATAN.”

Today he gave me my Mother’s Day gift.
A brand new wind chime.

And it is absolutely perfect.

Something about wind chimes just feels magical to me. They sing with the storms. They dance with the breeze. They turn an ordinary porch into therapy with background music.

The old one carried years of memories. Late night talks. Rainstorms. Healing. Quiet moments. This new one gets to carry the next chapter.

And honestly? That’s love to me.
Not giant flashy things. Just someone noticing the song outside your door has gotten quiet… and bringing the music back. ✌️

05/20/2026

Fred asked if he could tell his story today. I told him go ahead, buddy. 🖤

I don’t remember the beginning very well.

I just remember being hungry all the time.

I remember my body hurting. I remember being so weak my foster family had to carry me outside to potty… then carry me back inside because my legs didn’t have enough strength left to get me there on their own.

I remember people looking at me with sad eyes. Like they weren’t sure if love alone could save me.

Then one day, on November 4th, 2023, I met my family.

They fed me.
They waited for me.
They loved me before I even knew how to love them back.

Little by little, my bones disappeared under healthy weight.
My scared eyes softened.
My tail started wagging more.
I stopped surviving and started living.

Now I sit on the porch during rainstorms like a retired old man thinking about taxes.
Now I supervise every snack in this house.
Now I sleep safely knowing nobody is ever going to let me starve again.

They call me “The Hippie House Hippo” now.
And honestly? I think that means I made it.

Because I’m not the dog who had to be carried anymore.

I’m the dog who became home. ✌️🌿

05/06/2026

The rain is falling soft through the trees while I sit out here on the swing, barefoot and spiritually recalibrating like some slightly feral woodland cryptid with access to iced coffee and emotional support wind chimes.

Fred is currently on active porch security duty. He’s standing at the edge of the porch staring into the rain like he personally signed a contract stating “not one damn drop shall cross this line.” The level of commitment this dog has to staying dry while also refusing to go inside deserves employee of the month.

And honestly? This is therapy now.

Not the expensive kind. Not the “how does that make you feel” kind. I mean the real kind. Rain tapping on leaves. The swing creaking back and forth. Cool air hitting your skin. The smell of wet earth healing things inside your chest you can’t even explain yet.

The world has been loud as hell lately, but me and Fred have reached a mutual understanding tonight: we simply do not give a s**t.

The crazy? Not on the porch.
The drama? Not on the porch.
The stress? Also not on the porch.

Only rain. Tree noises. Vibes. And Fred aggressively protecting this property from weather he refuses to participate in.

Hippie Sandy after dark hits different, y’all. 🌧️🖤🐾

05/02/2026

Hey Little Hippies 🌿✨

The craft cave has been humming like a slightly unhinged little beehive lately… heat press warm, Cricut singing its little mechanical lullabies, and me somewhere in the middle covered in vinyl scraps and questionable life choices.

BUT 👀

No pictures yet.

Because apparently… I have “self control” now and can’t go ruining Mother’s Day surprises before they even make it into their gift bags. Who knew growth would look like not posting everything immediately?

Just know… magic is happening back here.
The kind made with love, grooviness, and just a dash of chaos.

If you ordered something for a mama in your life… it’s being handled with extra care (and probably a little bit of me whispering “this better make her cry the good tears”).

Sneaky peeks will come soon…
but for now, the craft cave stays mysterious.

Stay groovy,
Hippie Sandy 🌸🖤

I didn’t start this one with a plan… just a feeling 🌊I picked up the grapevine as it was, already curved into that soft ...
04/25/2026

I didn’t start this one with a plan… just a feeling 🌊

I picked up the grapevine as it was, already curved into that soft crescent, and it just felt right. Like it had already decided what it wanted to be and I just needed to listen. No forcing, no fighting it… just working with what was already there.

As I started adding the shells, I kept thinking about how everything carries a story before it ever reaches our hands. These little pieces of the ocean, now finding a second life here. It felt a little like honoring that… not covering it up, just letting it belong.

The pearls came in and softened everything. A reminder that not everything has to be loud to be beautiful. Some things just sit quietly and still hold all the attention.

When I reached for the flowers, I knew I didn’t want bold. I wanted calm. Those sandy blush tones, like sun-warmed skin and late evening skies. The kind of colors that don’t demand anything from you… they just let you breathe.

And the crystals… that was me choosing a little bit of wonder. Because sometimes light hits just right and suddenly everything feels a little more magical than it did a second ago. I wanted that moment to live here… to surprise someone when they least expect it.

This one wasn’t about building something from scratch.
It was about trusting what was already there… and adding just enough to make it feel like a quiet escape.

Made with love and grooviness 💚
Perfection was never invited… just a soft little piece of peace I needed that day.






Fred: professional Storm Watcher, part-time Water Victim. 🌧️🐾This man will sit on the porch like he personally ordered t...
04/23/2026

Fred: professional Storm Watcher, part-time Water Victim. 🌧️🐾

This man will sit on the porch like he personally ordered the thunder—
ears up, eyes locked in, acting like he’s supervising the clouds.

But the second a raindrop makes physical contact?
He turns into a lawsuit.

Not a bark. Not a warning. Just immediate offense taken.
“How DARE the sky touch me without consent.”

So now he’s parked right at the edge of safety…
close enough to enjoy the drama, far enough to avoid participation.

Wet pavement? Beautiful.
Rolling thunder? Stunning.
Rain on him? Unacceptable. Unprofessional. Grounds for resignation.

HR (himself) will be filing a formal complaint with the sky shortly. 🌩️🐶

Built this one the old-fashioned way… grapevine base, a pile of succulents, and a “let’s see what happens” attitude. 💚 B...
04/20/2026

Built this one the old-fashioned way… grapevine base, a pile of succulents, and a “let’s see what happens” attitude. 💚 Blues, greens, a little pop of brightness, and that crystal in the middle catching light like it knows it’s the main character.

No watering. No sunlight schedule. No emotional support needed. Honestly… she’s more put together than I am most days.
Just hangs there looking cute, catching light, and not causing a single problem. Must be nice.

Made this in the craft cave after a long day—where the glue gun is hot and the decisions are questionable.

Handmade with love and grooviness ✨
Perfection was never invited.

Hey little hippies 🌿✨We need to issue a formal apology to the plant formerly known as Lady Chlorophyllia the Frail……beca...
04/15/2026

Hey little hippies 🌿✨

We need to issue a formal apology to the plant formerly known as Lady Chlorophyllia the Frail…

…because that title aged like milk in a hot car.

This woman is no longer frail. She is leafed, loaded, and ready to fight God and win.

I mean LOOK at her. I gave her a little water and a whisper of sunlight and she said: “Bet.”
And proceeded to bulk up like she’s training for Plant Olympics 2026.

Why does she have more leaves than responsibilities?? Why is her stem thicker than my emotional stability after a long shift??

Meanwhile I skip watering ONE DAY and she’s like: “Wow. Neglect. Betrayal. I will now grow faster out of spite.”

The attitude??
Unmatched.
Unbothered.
Photosynthesizing through adversity.

At this point she’s not a houseplant…
she’s a landlord with strong opinions and excellent lighting requirements. Rent is due. In sunlight.

Moral of the story: You might feel a little frail…
but one good window and a little bit of chaos later, you too can become an absolute menace with leaves.







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Columbus, OH
43228

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