I am late for everything. I have two teen sons, a full time job (I call it my “Big girl job”), the Vintage Warehouse space and have a full load at USF. So what that means is that when I am somewhere…somewhere else is a sufferin’. I have to work extra hard at everything to get it done and that includes scoring my good junk and antiques to paint. And before you get your thong in a wad, I am not all about painting great-Aunt-Gerties prized Berkey and Gay buffet that has been in the family 3 generations. I am about getting a half sanded buffet that Jolene is selling for her crack habit. (I am kidding about the crack but it’s funny to say so I do). I haul these half sanded junkerz in and they roll back out like they have had Botoxx and a full-on ass-lift. So, I see it as a service to it.
At any rate… I rolled up to one of my face honey holes (I can’t tell you where or I’ll have to take you out) and on the step were these tops…a bikini, a ragged out bra and a push up bra. Panic came over me as I feared it was Topless Tuesday at the honey hole and here I was knocking these A and B cups straight out of the game. A tingle rushed up as I knew that if this were a contest for a discont that I WAS GONNA WIN!. I quickened my step, rushed the door to see every heiffer in there with a shirt on. Dang… I had missed it again… me and my full schedule.
I have a problem. I like chairs. Chairs are so interesting and have so much personality. Old chairs are the best, they come from a time when the wood was real and the people who made them were craftspeople and artisans…not some dude who staples presswood to other presswood wearing earbuds and waitng for the time clock to tick. These two particular chairs were hideous and putrid green. They were ornry too. I tried stripping them and they fought back, sending me for a triage and tetnus party before I asked the upholsterer to strip them so I could pick them up again and paint them. They sat in my garage a long time. I just knew that the work and expense to make them lovely wasn’t what I was feeling in the spring, summer, fall…..
One day I started the painting and got my revenge on the twins with distressing and waxing and fauxing years of character onto their wooden bones as if punishment were the only thing these two knew. Happy with the result, I labored over the fabric and decided that I wanted a clean palette of french linen and a European look. I think, aside from our toil and bloodshed, they turned out to be quite serene and civilized! These have taken yet another ride- to the Vintage Warehouse Lakeland and are ready for their new forever home where they promise to behave.
I had 5 minutes to myself the other day so I made a mad dash into my favorite honey hole (AKA: Thrift shop). I weeded past the 1983 t-shirts with armpit stains, past the 1992 denim dress (you know, the dresses that inspired the makers of Viagra), and past the used bras (who BUYS those!?!?!) And then, I spotted it… a brand new, name brand, toille, blue and white gown and robe set in my size! I love toille and I ain’t gonna lie… my night shirts that have paint on them would shame me and my mama if I had to go to the hospital for something (God forbid) and my husband has to drag those rags up there to the hospital. Anyway.. I snatched it, paid and ran it home to launder my new acquisition in in soap and hot water.
That evening I bathed and was so excited to get my new duds on. I put the gown on…but there was something wrong.. I looked down and there were these two BIG ASS holes in the front almost hidden but not so much (because my “girls” likes the real estate if-ya-know-what-I-mean). Well hell, I had wound up with a damned NURSING set! Imagine what the check out girl must have thought with my old ass up there giddy about my find and how I “really needed” this. Geez, she probably called freakin’ Ripley’s Believe It or Not when I left to get a camera man and reporter to my house because there was an old gal buying a nursing set.