My house is cursed. Surely I have pissed off a witch or warlock in recent years…It’s the only thing that would explain the events that have occurred this year in my 1998 house. Nothing surprises me anymore in regards to … Continue reading
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 promise you that this post will read nothing like the title eludes to.
I confess that I stray from shabby chic yumminess when the job calls for it. I do beach cottage, many faux finishes and other looks as well. This was the case Sunday, when my HGIC (head girlfriend in charge) texted me to tell me there was a dresser loose on a street close to her. I ordered her to “Get it!” as I was busy at the warehouse and decided to make her my immediate employee that I would repay by way of dog sitting or taking her to her car dealer to drop off her Jeep for an oil change that would otherwise hold her hostage in the “Customer Lounge” all day. BTW, why do they call it a lounge? I have never seen a lizard or a cocktail come out of there…. Liars….
At any rate, my friend dropped off the dresser while I was away. It wasn’t what I expected. I had expected a very french ornate deal. I got a faux bamboo number. It was jacked up with thick shiny/gloppy paint and hand prints from the owners younguns on top as well as lots of grime. Inside, (and I know you like to know what was left behind) there was a little Minnie Mouse sweatshirt. I assume it was outgrown… I removed it with my drawer tongs and disposed of it. The inside was as clean as could be. The drawers were all turned around. The good news was that was all that was wrong. They were not on their tracks Once put in the right places and on correct tracks, all drawers opened like buttah!
The top had to be stripped to the original finish, which was in perfect shape. The rest got painted in white with gray dry brushing and the lyrics to the beginning of a Jimmy Buffett song…or so I thought. I had gone through life thinking that these were the words:
Livin off Sponge cake, Watchin the Sun bake…….. Wasting away again in Margaritaville.
I awoke the next day with the instant thought to go to www.lyrics.com to look up the real lyrics. “Nibblin on Sponge cake….. Wasted away again in Margaritaville.” Now that was different! I had to repaint and reword the dresser. Jimmy would be ashamed of me, for sure. Besides, how can someone live off sponge cake and waste away at the same time? It cannot be done. I know, I’ve tried. Here is before and after of “Margarita”
Now…BOOGERS. This has nothing to do with Margarita..but it was and has been on my mind today. Raised in the south, we have many uses for the word booger, none of them what you think. Here’s how I was taught the word that I detest but probably often say:
1. Man, that storm was a BOOGER! (meaning it tore down a single-wide and Bubba’s front porch coke machine)
2. “Boy, you better get outta that old truck bed, a BOOGER will jump on ya!” (a southern parenting technique to get children off of or away from dangerous places or situations, inferring a spider, roach or snake attack.)
3. “Honey, I saw Gerdine down to the Piggly Wiggly and her hair looked like a WOOLY-BOOGER!” (Even this is a variation on the term, it means a heinous hairdo and assumes the woman resembled a drunken Teamster.)
4. “I love you, BOOGER.” (A term of endearment usually meant for children. This probably confuses them. Refer to #2.)
I hope this clears up BOOGER CONFUSION. It is common here in the central part of Florida. You’re welcome 🙂
When people drive by my house (on a busy street in the highlands) they must think I am mentally ill, a hoarder, to be specific. There is junk stacked to the ceiling in groups. JunkJenga, I call it…because on occasion … Continue reading