If my wood pieces could talk they would empathize with Rodney Dangerfield and say:
"I get no respect!"
My last post for "N" week is refers to the way I treat my wood pieces and antiques.

I really don't care much for wood. It's not that I am all "anti-environment" or anything like that. I just don't really like the look of wood in my house.
I think I can count on one hand how many natural wood pieces I have in my house.
Hang on, let's see (1, 2,...)
4, I think I have 4.
Here is one of them:
I think I can count on one hand how many natural wood pieces I have in my house.
Hang on, let's see (1, 2,...)
4, I think I have 4.
Here is one of them:
I got this secretary at an auction. I wanted to paint it, but hubby wasn't really on board with that idea (tree-hugger...)
I sat with it like this for a few months, then one night...
I decided to at least paint the inside of the glass doors (or rather the back of the cabinet you can see from the doors) light blue. Yes, that same light blue that everything seems to be turning in my house. (You can see it here.)
I sat with it like this for a few months, then one night...
I decided to at least paint the inside of the glass doors (or rather the back of the cabinet you can see from the doors) light blue. Yes, that same light blue that everything seems to be turning in my house. (You can see it here.)
For some strange reason, I said something to hubby about it (with the paint can and paint brush in hand.) Here is the conversation:
Me: (walking into kitchen with offending items in hand) "I think I'm going to paint the backs of the secretary."
Hubby: "Why?"
Me: "Cause all that brown is driving me nuts. It's boring."
Hubby: "Molly, please don't paint that. It's an antique."
When he called me by name I knew I was in trouble.
Me: "For real?"
Hubby: "Yeah, please don't paint it."
This is is the point where snarl my nose and let out an audible sigh (very much like a 14 year-old) and turn and walk out of the room.
I am completely in shock that he actually told me I COULDN'T do something.
What is that about anyway.
I am completely in shock that he actually told me I COULDN'T do something.
What is that about anyway.
I go back into the dining room, pout, and stare at the field of brown-ness. I really hate not getting my way. Wait a minute...OOOOHHHH....I know!
I started my new plan by going down to my decorating closet and getting the liquid starch and the floral fabric my roman shades are made out of.
(I did all this WITHOUT telling hubby my new plan, I couldn't take hearing NO again!)

I started my new plan by going down to my decorating closet and getting the liquid starch and the floral fabric my roman shades are made out of.
(I did all this WITHOUT telling hubby my new plan, I couldn't take hearing NO again!)
I snuck into the kitchen and got a mixing bowl and poured the starch in. Then I measured the size of each area I wanted to cover.
(It was pretty loosely measured because I am just lazy that way and
impatient too...)
(It was pretty loosely measured because I am just lazy that way and
impatient too...)
I then soaked each piece in the starch.
I squeezed out the excess liquid and placed each piece on the area I wanted to cover. I smoothed it out with my hand and voila!
The best thing about this trick is that you can take the fabric right off and it doesn't damage the wood. You can also use starch to apply fabric to walls or just about anything. Pretty cool technique and because you squeeze most of the liquid out you really don't use that much.
I am going over to Funky Junk Donna's, come on over, she will be glad to see you!


P.S. I was informed by hubby that he was misquoted in my "Never Satisfied" post. I have since corrected that mistake. Sorry hun!!
