come to the table ...

i realized the other day that i had sort of forgotten about this blog. a lot has transpired since the last time i wrote -- too much to even begin to tell you. but i'll start with my latest "project". now you have to understand that i love old things. i have a lot of antique furniture pieces in my tiny little apartment. some my parents refinished, some i refinished. my grandmother's red ruby is mostly packed away but is about to make an appearance -- as is my great grandmother's blue willow. and mostly this need to unpack these treasures came from an item i brought back from PA in december.

my daughter and i made a trip after christmas to see my dad and while i was there we visited a couple of antique stores. i fell in love with a cute little enamel hoosier table (which is a marriage and if you're not familiar with what a marriage is ... ask and i'll explain), but since i have no room for a hoosier cabinet and very little counter space to roll out dough, a hoosier table is the perfect happy medium for my little place.

so i bought the table (a steal at less than $65 after a discount and with sales tax added in). we brought it home (it fit perfectly in my tiny little honda fit with all our luggage packed around it).

at this point, i got it into my head that i wanted hoosier chairs (which we had had in my house growing up -- why didn't they hold on to them???) to go with the table. i would refinish and paint them white and my daughter the artist could reproduce the design from the table on the chairs. thus, began the quest to find the chairs.

now what you have to know is that if i weren't looking for these specific chairs -- i would have found them in a heartbeat. but because i was looking for them i either couldn't find them or would stumble upon some antique place that had "just sold a couple of those chairs a few days ago". it was painful. but i finally found four chairs that were similar but not identical enough to just give me that quirky look i wanted.

two of the chairs were easily sanded and painted (i say easily, but really, it was a tedious and back breaking job) because they were in natural finish. i actually hated painting the second one because when i had sanded it i discovered that the spindles were tiger maple. but i charged on because i had already painted one of them white.

unfortunately, the last two chairs (one painted an awful yellow -- and that was probably the 5th or 6th coat of paint) and one that was partially stripped and ugly as sin -- have proved to be my undoing. the yellow one has a structural issue that will render it unusable -- so it's probably going in the trash, unless i can figure out a way to fix it without paying a ton of money ... (and since none of these chairs cost me more than about $10-$15 each it wouldn't be worth it to spend a lot to fix one). and the partially stripped one, well, let's just say that the stripper that was recommended to me (spray) didn't work very well and it's still partially stripped. it may be that it never gets completed.

however, in the meantime, i have two beautiful white chairs awaiting my daughter's return from art college in order to paint the design on them. i'm excited to unpack my grandmother's red ruby and great grandmother's blue willow, set my table and have my children together for dinner at my "new to me" hoosier table and chairs.

my mother's apron

my mother's apron -- how it has survived all these years is beyond me. i have a photo of her wearing it when my brother was a baby (he turned 60 this past january). it was christmas time and they were sitting on the floor near the tree; my father playing some toy saxophone; my brother in his greenish overalls reaching for the silver tinsel on the tree; my mother looking on; her curly dark hair held back with a comb. it's an amazing photo capturing a moment in time.

and i still own the apron; i use it when i'm washing dishes or cooking a meal and yes, it looks like it's 60 years old and has seen better days. but it was my mom's and wearing it makes me feel close to her ...


how is it that a piece of cloth shaped and sewn into an apron could give such a feeling to me? i feel the same way about the ruby red pitcher that was my grandmother Daugherty's. i don't use it very often, but i know she used it and when i hold it in my hands, i am reminded of the person who's strength and character formed the little boy into the man who became my father. i am reminded of the stories told about her by her children over the years. i never knew her, but yet i did, through those stories, and holding that piece of red glass in my hands and knowing that her hands touched it as well, gave me some comfort.

and when i sit at my oak library table, i am reminded of the woman and the man (my parents) who refinished it so lovingly and allowed me to use it for years as my sewing table. it is now my desk. several times ppl have made some comment about taking it from me because of its beauty. it's a heavy piece, not easily moved -- even two strong young men will struggle with it -- but my parents moved it from the auction house to their home and there refinished it; rubbing the tung oil into its pores to bring out the natural beauty of the wood with their own hands.

we're not supposed to hold onto material things, things of this world, because we can't take them with us when we die. i can't help but feel some attachment to these items for the memories they evoke and the connections to ppl (some i knew in this world and others i know only through stories) whom i love dearly. it's not that i want to take them with me when i die -- no, i want to leave them here for those who come after me to touch and live with and use and feel those connections as well. but life now is so modern and full of minimalism that i know for some this seems like just junk that needs to be tossed out for what is new ....

i have a friend on facebook who takes old items -- things that ppl have discarded -- and she refurbishes them ... brings them back to life .... to use in her home in extraordinary ways. i applaud her for putting so much work into the old and savoring the beauty that she can see under the dirt and years of wear. i love the fact that something that someone long ago used and loved is being used and loved again. another person is putting their mark on it ... a new connection is being made ...