Stripping is Harder than It Looks

Catchy title, huh?  Bet you never knew this knitting/homeschooling/housewife got up to such interesting stuff?

Well, let me set your worries at rest.  Nothing untoward is going on here in the Frigid North at this household, except perhaps for the noxious fumes that came as a result of stripping - - -

wait for it - - - - -

- - - - wood. Glamorous, huh?

This little storage shelf area in our bathroom was painted a lovely 50's era blue, which completely clashed with everything else in our Victorian era home.

 

The first thing I had to do was strip the exterior facing of each drawer.  The paint stripper I like to use is highly toxic (which only helped add to my already burgeoning neurosis) and burns like *&%* if you get it on your bare skin.

After the several layers of paint were stripped and scraped off, a strong amount of sanding was required to get the surface suitably smooth and ready for staining.  For such work, I decided to call in the Handyman.

This is my favorite angle of him.  Mmm hmmm . . . .

Oh. Sorry.  Onward.

Perhaps it was just the fumes getting to me, but as I stripped of layer upon layer of peach/baby blue/green (and possibly even burgundy?) shades of paint, I philosophized on what the home owner of that time was thinking when they went for that particular decorative look.  (Perhaps they were high on fumes too, judging by the number of psychedelic shades.)   

 

The hardware was thankfully original to the house (I suspect), so I didn't have to purchase new stuff.  Technically it most of it was copper, but even after a thorough cleaning and stripping, it didn't have that lovely copper patina that I would have preferred, so I decided to just give all the hardware a layer or two of my favorite "wrought iron" spray paint.

 

I'm telling you, this stuff is amazing.  It not only gets the right color, but it even creates a subtle mottled surface effect on the hardware.  Genius.

While I was at the whole stripper business (hee hee!), I figured I might as well do all the rest of the upstairs trim and doors that I never did complete when we were still in the throes of new-home-ownership.

 

Let me assure you, three large doors (which are two-sided, in case you didn't know), several pantry doors and three large drawers is a lot of work.  I had to take off a week of teaching music lessons in order to get the job done, and I needed every day of it.

 

Not only did the layers of paint have to come off, but on the doors at least the original varnish/stain had to be removed as well.  80+ year-old stain is very set in its ways and does. not. want. to move. on.

If stain could become a poltergeist, this stuff would have been a prime candidate.

See the door on the left and the door on the right?  Both from the same cabinet.  I sanded the one on the left and Handyman sanded the one on the right.  He's got bigger biceps.  It's why I married him.

And other reasons.

(Sorry.  Blame the fumes.)

Bar Stool Slipcover

When we moved into our house seven years ago we also inherited two bar stools that lounged idly in the kitchen. Up until a few months ago, these bar stools were idle ruffians that were content to wallow in filthy ignominy.
Then, I had a rare bout of cleaning frenzy, and decided that the two loutish bar stools needed an intervention.

The wood on the bar stools is covered with an embarrassingly thick layer of sticky grime which I cannot seem to scrub off, no matter what I do. I have a feeling that the grime is a mutation of the dirt from my childrens' grubby fingers mixed with the deteriorating varnish of the chairs.
To make my pattern, I used trash bags and cut them out to shape by taping them to the different parts of the chair.

(Yes, I know, this is a very posh way to do things.)

Next, I pinned my pattern pieces to vinyl fabric that I'd purchased at a discounted price from a fabric store in the area.
Since the pieces all looked vaguely similar I had to be careful not to get them mixed up. I labeled them with a pencil so that I knew which edges to sew together.
Much better! I know they're still not the greatest chairs, but at least I can wipe them clean after the kids have done their worst. Plus, if they're so dirty that a wiping up can't suffice, I can just slip them off and throw them in the washing machine!

Where the Magic Happens

Some day, when I'm rich and famous and have a house with two working bathrooms, I will also have a lovely craft room in which I can create marvelous works of artistic beauty that will dazzle the senses.

I might mention that this will also magically coincide with my ability to keep the house spotlessly clean.

One can dream.

Anyway, for now, this is my craft room, where for a few precious moments a week I closet myself away from the rest of the house (and household). As you can see, it's also my laundry room and mudroom, so a lot of excess debris gets trapped in my tiny space. Handyman's 9 pairs of size 11 shoes takes up a good percentage of the space, much to my annoyance.
In Handyman's defense, however, he has tried to make the room as user friendly and space efficient as possible. He hung up several rows of shelves, on which I've managed to cram quite a lot of crafting possibilities.
To save table space, I glued the lids of these jars to the underside of the shelf. When I want something from the jar, I just twist it, and the glass part comes free. I can see what's in it, but it's not in my way.

These little storage boxes were one of my favorite ideas. Walmart and Dollar Tree sells these little pencil holders for 3/$1. I just put two screws in for each box, and hung them on the wall. Again, it's nice to have things where I can easily see them, but aren't on my small table.
My Mum picked this up for me at Bed Bath and Beyond. It's a jewelry organizer, but I use it for ribbon and trimming, since it's not easy to keep those things organized yet visible.
One good thing about such a small space is that it forces me to focus on one project at a time. I can't work on both scrapbooking and sewing, since that would quickly overwhelm what little space I have. I have to finish what I'm working on so that I can put it away and get out something new.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

Hmmmm, This is Not. Good.

When Handyman and Peter were gone for three weeks, I found that the amount of housework required to keep the home tidy was drastically reduced. Drastically. Laundry loads went down from at least 6 a week to a squeaky 2, size 12 shoes didn't clutter up the doorway, power tools didn't anonymously accumulate on my counters, and things generally stayed put.

So, I naturally used the free time to get lots of sewing and crafting done. Lots.

Somehow, though, things started to creep up on me, and before I knew it, the house looked like this;
and the floors were imitation fly-traps.
I'm sure there is some sort of psychological meaning to this particular arrangement, but I'm not sure what it means.
Can you tell that I'd been knitting a lot?
Very scary indeed.
What's a gal to do? Clean? Slave? Head for the nearest train depot?

Hah. Nope! Be smart and get someone else to do it!

One of the payoffs to teaching lessons is that I can usually find a student that is willing to swap 1 1/2 hours a week of cleaning for a free lesson. I figure it fair trade, since teaching takes away from my time to clean (being optimistic that I even would clean in the imaginary free time), and the wages work out to about $7.50 an hour.

Yup, this gal is my patron saint.

Nursery in the Clouds

When we first moved into our home, Handyman refinished a small attic room which we turned into a nursery when my oldest was born. I always liked the room, but it didn't have that special flair which declared it a child's room.

(Well, other than the "flair" that accompanies children by way of messy toys, diapers on the floor, the faint aroma of puke long-removed, and clothes everywhere.)

I was at the Dollar Tree a few months ago and I found some beautiful butterfly stickers that really tickled my fancy, so I bought three sheets of stickers which I decided to use on the ceiling/walls of the nursery. (If these are moths don't tell me and let me continue to live in denial.)
First I painted the walls/ceilings blue with some leftover paint from another room of the house. If I'd had my first choice I would have picked a lighter sky blue, but I wanted to keep this project cheap. Also, I figured this way I could use the same bucket of leftover paint for touch-ups in each room.

After the paint dried, I used some leftover white trim paint to dry-brush clouds. This was surprisingly easy. I tried to layer the clouds and give them depth by alternating the intensity of the white.
I could not ever be accused of being an artist, so this was a huge accomplishment for me!
Total cost? $3! Breanna loves looking at all her butterflies, and every time I pick up Gabe in that room he reaches for the ceiling and says, "Pwetty! Pwetty!".
Ahhhh, the perfect sort of compliment to an afternoon's hard work!

Long-Term Renovations

Our house is over a hundred years old, and when we bought it, we knew it would take a lot of work to make it fit our taste and style.
(First of all, contrary to Peter's thinking, we did not live here when it was first built, and secondly, our taste and style includes such posh amenities as electricity and running water.)

Quite a bit of the downstairs is done, with about half of the upstairs portion of the house being in several stages of "done".

However, thanks to some subtle and well-timed hints on my part ("Dear, I think unfinished sheet rock adds a nice touch of modernism to our home, don't you?"), Handyman has again taken up his handy hammer and wielded it upon our unsuspecting house.
He has begun construction of the window seat, which will be in our dining room. Peter has already gotten a jump on him, and has implemented it as a bridge.


Although Handyman is a carpenter by trade, working his trade in his own home is often daunting for him. I've noticed that men can be easily distracted by such trivialities as tools wandering off and traffic jams being constructed on their building materials.
However, my Handyman has shown remarkable talents, and weathered the onslaught of toddler terrorism.
I've really enjoyed watching Handyman work on the house.
(Whistling innocently . . .)

Who knows? We might actually get one more thing done around here!
I wonder how long it will last until the kids destroy it?

Rentals and Rednecks

One of the reasons why we stayed in the Sunny South for such a long time (three weeks) was not only to visit with friends and family, but also to work on our rental property, which was vacant and needed new tenants.Handyman and I bought this place the first year we were married, and we lived there for about a year until I finished college. Although the place isn't much to speak of, it's on a beautiful wooded hill and seems quiet and private.(No, that's not it; that's the well house. It's a wee bit bigger than that . . .)

There is a small trailer that has one bedroom, a tiny kitchen, and a living room, along with a very nice deck.
After I gave the deck another fresh coat of paint, it looked even better.(Only a dedicated blogger takes a picture of deck railings.)

The inside needed some work, too, but mostly just a good cleaning. I was amazed at how nice the carpets looked after some steam-cleaning.
The bathroom took a lot of scrubbing, too. Let's just say the amount of scum on the shower walls was enough to shock even the Swamp Thing.
Our previous tenant was a single guy, and although he kept the place structurally sound, he was, well, a single guy. Men are not generally hygenic to begin with, but this guy was on a level all his own. The worst, yes, WORST thing I had to clean was the fridge. I had to wear gloves, a mask, and rosary beads to get through it (well, not really about the last item).
(Like I've stated before, this is a family-friendly blog, so I omitted any "before" shots of the fridge. They could make horror flicks with that footage.)

Although a few days were "cold" (please note the sarcasm in that word), the kids had a blast playing outside and "helping" us. Miss Boo was very good at giving Handyman nails - at least until she dropped the box between the deck railings. After that she got fired.
Peter got in to the action, too. Seriously, what is it with men and tools?
Our place has quite a bit of land and no neighbors, so the kids were able to run around and explore to their hearts' content.
Peter found all sorts of interesting things, like . . .
. . . worms and Anole lizards. (Oh, Mum, can you let the lizards go? I think they're still in your terrarium upstairs . . .)

After spending all day playing, they certainly needed a trip to "Magic Bubble Land" (the kids' nickname for my parents' jacuzzi tub).
The other part of the property is a free-standing double garage, with the first part being a finished apartment. The carpet in that part was past saving, so Handyman tiled it. He's very handy that way.
Also, since this was the South, there was the prerequisite "old car that doesn't run". The previous tenant left some sort of car behind him when he left. Since I can't see what kind of car it is in the photo, I can't tell you what it is. To me, a car is either "red" or "green", etc. At most I can differentiate a "van" from a "sports car", but that's about my limit.
As far as I know, that car is still there, despite the fact that we have new tenants.

Very southern of us, we know.

Hey, at least it's not up on blocks.

Redneck Joke 12
You might be a redneck if both your house and car are on blocks.

Wrath of the Lonely House

Well, we are finally back home after two weeks of vacation in South Carolina. This morning we had to wake up at 4:30 in order to catch our early-bird flight in Charlotte, and we finally arrived in Freeport around noon. Needless to say, Andy and I are exhausted, especially since the baby decided to keep us awake the night before.

Have you ever noticed that houses have personalities? Well, my house missed us terribly. I think that it was so lonely, it put up a slight temper-tantrum. As soon as we entered the house, it was quite evident that our usually homey home had quite the attitude problem. Now, I am not the neatest housekeeper in the world, but I put up a heroic effort to have the house semi-tidy before we left for vacation. For some reason, when we returned, the house looked (and smelled) quite different.

In truth, it's just that when you're gone for awhile, things you usually overlook suddenly pop out at you with glaring signals. For instance, the crayon marking that I keep forgetting to scrub off, the plant that died and still hasn't been thrown out, the piles of laundry that I wish would disappear . . . . .

Still, I'm fairly proud of myself for actually getting everything unpacked. It was a huge effort, because standing in the middle of a house in shambles can be very overwhelming. (I'm sure all you mothers out there know exactly what I'm talking about; "Where in the world do I begin?") The kitchen is in some order now, although I still have vaccuuming and more clean up to do elsewhere. Somehow, though, if my kitchen is clean, I can bear the disaster everywhere else.