Besides I'm confessing and begging forgiveness. You wouldn't shoot someone on their knees begging for mercy, would you?
Showing posts with label decisions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label decisions. Show all posts
Friday, July 12, 2013
Junk Crimes and Misdemeanors
Some of you may want to shoot me for what I did yesterday, but you'd have to be a quick draw to beat me to the trigger. Besides, you shouldn't shoot someone who's black and blue from kicking themselves all day and into the next.
Besides I'm confessing and begging forgiveness. You wouldn't shoot someone on their knees begging for mercy, would you?
Besides I'm confessing and begging forgiveness. You wouldn't shoot someone on their knees begging for mercy, would you?
Sunday, September 09, 2012
Painting's Easy, Decisions Are Hard
With that admission, the vanity that came to live with us from a garage sale two weeks ago has been finished for about a week. Woo hoo! However its reconstruction was not without a labor of love via the usual spat of decision dilemmas.
Formerly dressed in mermaid attire:
The sanding and painting was fairly quick enough, although, never underestimate the amount of time things take when there are lots of pieces and legs...and that slick spray paint was not all that interested in being sanded off!
Formerly dressed in mermaid attire:
Thursday, May 10, 2012
No Need to Mourn
There’s not an inch of space left in this house in which to force another stray chair or sundry shelf or stepstool.
Although, in the back of my mind I always remember my friend Lynette saying "It's always worth it to pick up a chest of drawers." So how am I supposed to pass one up if her sage words are ringing in my ears? I drive with blinders on, afraid my eyes will fall in love with something reaching out with open cabinet doors and a needy finish from within a heap of someone’s leftover life...if you can call a head swinging wildly back and forth looking down every street "driving with blinders on". Sigh.
My little sewing/creative room (as if!)
It has become, instead, a closet.
A supposed main thoroughfare in our home.
Although, in the back of my mind I always remember my friend Lynette saying "It's always worth it to pick up a chest of drawers." So how am I supposed to pass one up if her sage words are ringing in my ears? I drive with blinders on, afraid my eyes will fall in love with something reaching out with open cabinet doors and a needy finish from within a heap of someone’s leftover life...if you can call a head swinging wildly back and forth looking down every street "driving with blinders on". Sigh.
Don’t look, don’t see, don't know what's out there, that's what I try to say over the other voices in my head that egg me on. Nothing to see here, I tell myself. But it hurts as I pass by, hedge my bet, wait too long and know that a more decisive "Junkie" laid claim to what should have been MY find, or to know that the clawlike arm of the garbage truck has taken home to the great beyond that which I hesitated to snag on first discovery.
Oh, how the ones that got away pain me. They are "The Haunting". All that possibility was lying there free for the taking, "days gone by" ready to be conjured up once more. But, of course, I wasn't sure fast enough. I needed to think about it, then I came back and it was gone. Maybe it's the fact that treasures are found out of place in a heap of plastic paint buckets, old frames, broken children's toys and smashed TVs from the 90's that confuses my eye and makes me reconsider.
Whatever it is, it casts doubt upon whether or not I should open the remaining walkways to another stray, and I move on, only to eventually circle back and find it gone. Yes, I HAVE been known to choose wrongly. That stings. But oh, the life I could have had together with some of the lost ones through the tender strokes of a sander, a handful of steel wool offering a little friction to shine up the past so it could travel through time to live another day in my presence, or fingers raw from ammonia on vinyl, removing the scent of another's life...
Yes,sometimes I mourn.
But more often than not, my lament is more about the overgrown pile of needy wood and drawers and chairs and sundry little carts and louvres I have to maneuver to get to various places within my home. You name it. It's in the pile somewhere. The growing stash may house future gems or works of art, but in the meantime when you have to walk sideways and twist, lean and tip toe, you may be on the verge of getting an invitation to a reality show involving folks with psychological disorders.
I have to remember we live here, yes, but what to do when your living space is your only workspace? What to do when the other inhabitants of the house don't share your vision because they just want to get to a blocked closet or to the ironing board. Then the grumbling begins. And what to do when company is coming? Yes! Company is coming. Let's just say, I'm on the verge of an anxiety attack.
So today was to be my clearinghouse day. My little bungalow is to be the gathering place and self-styled bed and breakfast to 5 of us a month from now and that's a hugely tall order even on the most junk-free day. The truth of junk reality is that it's now a leviathan of an order to think of more than two of us in this house for 5 days. However, something has to get me on track and get some of this nonsense out of the way. As a result, projects were set to be fast tracked, attacked, finished, out the door or worked into my decor today.
Then, as I sat last evening plotting my plan of action, I became acutely aware that something was waiting for me out there. An unexplainable urge to scout the streets and see what was free for the taking overtook me, despite the fact I was already in evening attire. But you see, today is trash day, and one never knows what glories might lie in wait the night before. Despite the fact I was planning to do battle with the pile I already have, I uncharacteristically donned presentable attire near sunset, got in the car and drove. Surely there was something I would miss out on if I waited 'til morning.
I drove straight to the North side of town where the streets are sometimes lined with castoffs for the trash man or the Samford and Son types who comb the piles with their own ends in mind, such as making a few bucks at the metal recycling place South of here.
I began my eagle eye search and two blocks down, there at the curb was something big and made of wood. My heart started that little "Skip to my Lou" it does. Once I got close enough, I drew in a breath, and knew it had to be mine. I'm a sucker for midcentury treasures, and I knew the mourning that would follow if I left this lovely to the fate of The Claw. But I knew it wouldn't fit in my car and I forgot my phone.
Surely there was something good in here!
Yet, I moved on. (I'm so proud of myself!)
Oh, how the ones that got away pain me. They are "The Haunting". All that possibility was lying there free for the taking, "days gone by" ready to be conjured up once more. But, of course, I wasn't sure fast enough. I needed to think about it, then I came back and it was gone. Maybe it's the fact that treasures are found out of place in a heap of plastic paint buckets, old frames, broken children's toys and smashed TVs from the 90's that confuses my eye and makes me reconsider.
Whatever it is, it casts doubt upon whether or not I should open the remaining walkways to another stray, and I move on, only to eventually circle back and find it gone. Yes, I HAVE been known to choose wrongly. That stings. But oh, the life I could have had together with some of the lost ones through the tender strokes of a sander, a handful of steel wool offering a little friction to shine up the past so it could travel through time to live another day in my presence, or fingers raw from ammonia on vinyl, removing the scent of another's life...
Yes,sometimes I mourn.
But more often than not, my lament is more about the overgrown pile of needy wood and drawers and chairs and sundry little carts and louvres I have to maneuver to get to various places within my home. You name it. It's in the pile somewhere. The growing stash may house future gems or works of art, but in the meantime when you have to walk sideways and twist, lean and tip toe, you may be on the verge of getting an invitation to a reality show involving folks with psychological disorders.
More from my "creative" place
I have to remember we live here, yes, but what to do when your living space is your only workspace? What to do when the other inhabitants of the house don't share your vision because they just want to get to a blocked closet or to the ironing board. Then the grumbling begins. And what to do when company is coming? Yes! Company is coming. Let's just say, I'm on the verge of an anxiety attack.
So today was to be my clearinghouse day. My little bungalow is to be the gathering place and self-styled bed and breakfast to 5 of us a month from now and that's a hugely tall order even on the most junk-free day. The truth of junk reality is that it's now a leviathan of an order to think of more than two of us in this house for 5 days. However, something has to get me on track and get some of this nonsense out of the way. As a result, projects were set to be fast tracked, attacked, finished, out the door or worked into my decor today.
Then, as I sat last evening plotting my plan of action, I became acutely aware that something was waiting for me out there. An unexplainable urge to scout the streets and see what was free for the taking overtook me, despite the fact I was already in evening attire. But you see, today is trash day, and one never knows what glories might lie in wait the night before. Despite the fact I was planning to do battle with the pile I already have, I uncharacteristically donned presentable attire near sunset, got in the car and drove. Surely there was something I would miss out on if I waited 'til morning.
I drove straight to the North side of town where the streets are sometimes lined with castoffs for the trash man or the Samford and Son types who comb the piles with their own ends in mind, such as making a few bucks at the metal recycling place South of here.
Piles, piles, everywhere on trash day!
Score!
After passing it up to decide what to do, I continued down the streets nearby. Upon my return, it was gone! [freak out] The mourning and lamenting began as it always does. Why did I hesitate? I drove around and thought and cringed and wanted to kick myself. As I drove on with my heart in a knot, there it was ahead of me, still waiting, longing to be mine. What?! I had been in the wrong place. Duh! After a few more drive-bys because there were people around, and knowing that it was not gonna fit into my backseat, I got home and called a friend who made tracks to my house. As darkness descended, we lifted and heaved this bad boy into the back of her SUV and hauled away the newest addition to my "collection" where it came home to make a new life among the good company of all the other things I have no room for. (Oh boy, just wait 'til Casey finds out.)
But, you know, you gotta do what you gotta do, and I had to rescue this. I have plans. I may actually make it work into my living room, the one that a rational being one without creative vision would say has no opening for new treasures. Something will just have to go or move or... I don't even know. For someone who doesn't like decisions or for my decor to change, I sure do put myself in situations where I have to do both rather often.
The plot thickens and things are getting tricky. Ah well...so goes the life of one who travels the streets not only without her blinders in place, but with a decided intent to discover treasure and to prevent a reason to mourn.
A beauty...
Okay,it's not without a few issues on the back.
and the top...
...but it has potential.
I can see it living here with purpose and style.
Well, I have to go. I have a lot more to do now, and decisions to make. I'm thinking it's gonna end up a light aqua (like the wall pictured below), distressed, with white undertones in order to fit in with this room against a sand colored wall adjacent to this one. Or should I redo it and get it outta here?
Any thoughts? Suggestions? Help! Help me help myself. Please. I beg of you...make me see reason, or is reason even possible at this point? Is reason even necessary? Is reason overrated? That's what I thought.
Feel free to add your two cents worth!
What would you do?
I'll be at:
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
The Indecisive Land of Limbo
It's inspiring to wander the blogosphere and enjoy the talent of so many champions of salvaged style as they whip up a new serving of revamped fabulousness everyday, isn't it? People are über talented and so willing to share their ideas, and their tips too. Gotta love that! And those ideas could come in handy sometime. Sometime like, oh, I don't know... how about today?
I will admit that I have acquired a mad case of junk adventure, if that's even a thing. (ha, you know it is). I am a card carrying junk lover, dedicated to the hunt, the discovery that makes a heart leap and do double back flips, the score that makes you drive away feeling like a thief who has just pulled off a heist and the nitty gritty of a redo that instills a sense of accomplishment, the kind that is oh, so satisfying.
Putting a good dose of elbow grease into the process of bringing new life to weathered and worn treasures that would otherwise be facing the end of days is a joy... despite the sweat, blood and tears, literally. The grungy treasures pile up in all corners of the house, because I just know that this one is a keeper, that the one over there must certainly be restored, without question, and the battered little thing I found partially hidden beneath some moldy upside down furniture on my way home from work could be marvelous one day. Yep, it must be snatched and saved.
What it will be, I haven't a clue... yet. But it most certainly must come home with me so we can find out together.
Enter the retro bedside table.
Despite my passion for projects, forever will I marvel at anyone with a just do it attitude toward tackling the process. The ability to step in fearlessly and give things a try without certainty of outcome is not a trait I possess, and I have no idea how to acquire it. How do people do that? For me, the what if's gnarl my stomach into knots and cause me to spend inordinate amounts of time convincing myself it won't be the end of the world if it doesn't turn out as planned.
"What if this idea isn't the best way to go?" "What if that color ends up wrong and I waste paint and time and have to do it again, and again (as if that hasn't happened a time or two anyway)." And one of the worst project stallers... "What if I drill the holes (cut the wood, remove the paint, etc.) and then I ruin it or I change my mind or whatever?" Then what? Huh? And there are the revamps that get started but then get left in process for the final inspiration to hit. That final inspiration can sometimes take a while.
With that said, you might understand why it's been almost a year since I found this little guy in a pile of discards outside a home nearby and yet it sits without it's final touch of bling to top it off and make it ready to face the world.
When I found it, the top was unattached, the laminate chipped off, and of course the finish was hazy with stale smoke and reeking of the same, but this was one of those nostalgic pieces that called to me from back in the day, way back on Honeysuckle Avenue. Mom and Dad had a bedroom set to which this could have been a companion piece. The style and the age caught my eye and beckoned me to reminisce with it while it spoke to me of my youth. "Love me, save me...make me beautiful," it begged. But what to do with a little solitary orphaned bedside table? It mattered not. I had to have this treasure from the past.
Removing the laminate parts and preparing the wood for the embellishment to come.
It didn't sit for long before I began to give it a good going over because I actually had an idea for it. Since it was an orphan, it could easily be a funky piece and make a statement as it goes solo through this life. It would find its own niche in the world via a splash of pizazz. Now, I'm not actually much for going rogue. I tend to stick to sensible solutions and rarely have I been known to venture into crazy town. Well, not in the decorating department anyway.
All stripped bare so I can dress it up and send it out to see the WORLD!
And so I began. Unfortunately I cannot for the life of me find the shots I took with maps lying about all over the floor. (I cannot understate the value of being organized with one's photos, especially at this moment when I really want those images!) It took quite a bit of measuring (scaredy cats like me always measure more than twice - way more). I even went and bought a metal square edge because cutting paper correctly is practically impossible, and I stink at measurements and calculations.
I took my time, measured and figured and worked out where all the pieces would go and decided against covering the edges, which was definitely the right choice (yea! I made a right decision!) in order to have enough map and so that the parts wouldn't be placed too awkwardly. In the end this was the way it all had to go, and the part I would have liked on the front couldn't go there. I forged ahead.
Waa laa! All dressed up, but no jewelry.
The map was glued on with Mod Podge, some of the glue on the wood and some on the back of the map, and I made sure it was good and tacky. Laminated maps are the way to go, by the way. No worries about the paper falling apart. I made sure to work carefully and squeegie the bubbles out, securing the edges with plenty of glue so they wouldn't peel up easily and repeatedly smooshing it down to make sure it was bonding well. The legs and the wood around the edges got a new coat of paint. I actually need another coat on the legs, but all in all, it was a success, although not without a few hairy moments where I was quite sure I was gonna screw it all up. But that's me for ya.
The drawer did not originally have hardware on it; it wasn't necessary because it was designed with a notched area for pulling it open. However, I could see that I was going to have blue space that looked empty once I was done and I figured I'd put a cute knob or handle of some sort there for interest. The perfect piece has turned out to be a challenge to find.
I found a handle from Anthrpologie that I wanted after nixing a number of ideas, and Cally was kind enough to buy it for me. I would have never spent $8, (or was it $12) for a handle. I believe in waiting to find something cheap, free or on clearance. However, a year is a long time for a world player like this little beauty to sit in my room collecting dust awaiting a seemingly simple finishing touch like a handle.
So the question is, do I leave it without a handle or drill two holes, hope I get it right (agh!) and go with this one?
Can you imagine this on the front of the drawer? I'm not sure anymore if it's the way to go.
The metal on it looks black next to the brown wood and I'm not sure there's enough black in the map to bring it out. Definitely don't want to drill and be sorry. What to do? Does it matter? This is the way so many of my projects end up, stalled in the land of limbo. It seems I have found that land here on my precious little map table.
I'm open for suggestions.
If anyone has a thought on the handle situation, please let me know what you think in the comments!
Please help me out of my indecisive land of limbo.
Thanks!
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