It's that time of year again. The air has turned cool. The leaves are falling. And I have entered a dangerous yearly cycle known as Project Mode. I can hear you all scoffing at me.
Project Mode? Ha.
Not dangerous you say? If your projects are small I guess it wouldn't seem dangerous, but mine tend to revolve around pieces of furniture.
It's a disease . . . or quite possibly some kind of genetic quirk. Either way, it's not my fault.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Project Mode: debacles of projects past.
1950's Stereo Cabinet Re-furbish
This all started when I came across this posting on Apartment Therapy: Los Angeles about bringing a curbside find back to life. It was wonderful. It was beautiful. I had to make it mine. But there was a snag in my masterful plan - where to get a 1950's stereo cabinet cheaply and locally? Enter Craigslist.com. I searched. I grumbled. And after a few months I finally found a cabinet that fit my requirements . . . minus the locally part. But alas after some quick bargaining I convinced my mother to do some reconnoitering on her trip to visit my grandparents. The cabinet was $15.00 on sale at a Antique Mall/Flea Market only a few miles outside of the town where she would be. My mother, being the wonderful person she is, looked the cabinet over and deemed it acceptable for my project and offered the owner $10.00 for it. Shazaam! I had my cabinet - all she had to do was load it in the back of her station wagon and haul it 290 miles back up the interstate to me.
Which she did.
Because she loves me.
And because she supports all of my wacky project ideas (and given my history I'm not really sure why).
Fast forward a little over a year (or longer - I can't really remember when the stereo cabinet came to live with me) and this is how far I've gotten.
Depressing, isn't it? (As a side note - it's been gutted and the part of the front paneling has been ripped off)
But I don't blame myself (at least not entirely). See, I'm not really all that handy when it comes to building stuff - which is what needs to happen here. Said lovely cabinet isn't deep enough for my stereo equipment - but there is room to grow, so not a big deal. Until you consider that I have a limited knowledge of hand tools and no knowledge of power tools outside of a drill (and when I say I have knowledge that means I know what it looks like and how to use one in a theoretical way). So I enlisted my father to help . . . who enlisted a neighbor . . . who told us what we needed to do and he'd help, no problem.
And that's all the further we got.
But have no fear, this summer I moved on to debacle #2:
Captains Chairs strip and re-finish
This particular project started because of a little show called The Big Bang Theory. I know, I know - blame the nerds, how original. But it's true. See there was this chair (it's not the best picture, but look behind Sheldon and you'll see it). I had this chair. In fact I had two of them. All I had to do was strip the old paint (several layers) off and could refinish them and presto-changeo I would have my nerd chairs. Once again I enlisted my mother's help (there seems to be a pattern emerging) and off the hardware store we went to purchase a water based paint stripper and some gloves. Feeling sure of our mission we set a date to turn the back patio into project headquarters. Finally the day rolled around and with the hot summer sun beating down on us we slaved for hours on stripping the chairs, listening to the radio and holding discussions of how they would look when we completed everything.
Then about an hour after our lunch break we gave up.
We decided we needed professional help (more than one kind?)
We needed a Dip n' Strip. The layers of paint and glaze just weren't budging at a speed (or accuracy) that was acceptable.
Paging through the phone book we found a few - and that's all the further we got. Said chairs are still sitting in the basement looking sad and pathetic. But they are in good company (remember the stereo cabinet?).
I sometimes wonder if the stereo cabinet and the chairs get together and plot against me. I can almost hear them saying "how would she like it if we pulled out her insides, shaved her head and peeled off her skin then left her locked in a dark, dank place?!?"
I have an overly active imagination. Perhaps that is why I write?
Following the natural progression the other day I found myself in my local Goodwill (I love Goodwill - I have many treasures from there. Have I mentioned that I decorated my first apartment for less than $500.00, thanks in part to Goodwill, The Salvation Army, The D.A.V., my Grandparent's attic and my Mother) when debacle #3 sat up and introduced itself:
There I was walking down an isle with my mother minding my own business when there it was.
And I had to have it.
My very own Mid-Century Modern China Cabinet. Ain't she a beaut! (The shelf and the sliding glass panels have been removed from the top - but I do have them.)
The only problem was it wouldn't fit in the back of the station wagon (my Mother still isn't convinced it wouldn't, but that's another story). Hemming and hawing ensued, shortly followed by my Visa card getting swiped for $45.00 with a promise to pick it up the next day. So what if I didn't know anyone with a truck? So what if my Father made his disapproval noise (it's a combination of a sigh and a throaty growl thing- kinda like the phlegmy part of any German word - and you can just envision him rolling his eyes). So what if I don't have a dinning room?
When, and I repeat, when has that ever stopped me?
If you guessed never, go get yourself a cookie.
My darling Father (the same man who rolled his eyes and made his famous sound) called a buddy from work and offered to buy him lunch for use of his pickup (thanks, Rick!). So now my baby is safe and sound at home awaiting it's face lift. It should be easy. Clean it up and refinish it. No tools needed (outside of maybe a screwdriver - and those I can use).
Wish me luck.
And pray that I don't move on to a new project till this one is finished.
