Showing posts with label decorating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label decorating. Show all posts

Monday, February 27, 2012

a table worth writing about...or on

Happy Monday, Internets!

What did you do this weekend? 

My husband and I spent a lot of ours cursing and covered in Still Tidewater.  We painted the heck out of our kitchen table and chairs.

A little back story on our meal partaking furniture:

We had a kitchen table and chairs that I bought at a yard sale for 20 bucks many moons ago.  It's just a simple affair, with one leaf and four matching chairs.  We sanded it and painted it and then beat the crap out of it over the years with our growing brood.  Over the years I collected four more chairs and painted them to match.

My friend, Renee, also had a black table that she had painted.  She also had baby twins at the time and so the original finish didn't get sanded or stripped before it was painted.  Consequently, the paint was a bit chipped and peeling.  When they moved to Texas last spring (SNIFF), she sweetly gifted me with this big, sturdy table and chairs.  And an elliptical machine, which I totally use all the time....honest...sorta.

Like the only photo I could find of this table and chairs..also featured: Renee's kiddos, Ben, Neill and some burritos.

So, the big table with, like a million leaves, moved into our kitchen and the older table moved into the disused dining room to be covered with a vintage table cloth and piled with brik-a-brak and be...disused.

I've been wanting to refinish the table since May but other things, cute things mainly, kept getting in the way.  Well, I finally did it!  Or, WE finally did it.  My husband can't stand the sight of his wife sitting in a puddle of turquoise paint, holding an electric paint sprayer and crying, apparently.

It turned out AWESOME.


Look how the pretty details on the base show up now!


And here's the best part:


Yep, that's a chalkboard painted tabletop, baby!  My mind swims with all the uses this has.  And the fun!  And it's totally washable.


This morning, the husband looked at the table and said, "You know, I think we need to distress the chairs and the base.  It would be much more cohesive with the black showing through."

I'm surprised he didn't start that sentence with "Hey, girl..".

Yes, I'm blessed, ladies.  My man knows what "distressed" means and not only that, he's totally right.  As soon as I get the chance I'm taking some fine grain sandpaper to this bad boy.

Neill copied a place setting for the other side. So cute.

I'm loving my bright and breezy new table.  Thanks, love!  And thanks, Renee!

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Christmas Traditions


I have always loved Christmas, a LOT.

Growing up, Christmas was truly magical. There were traditions; going to the Christmas tree farm, with saw in hand and cutting down our tree, decorating said tree while we all felt habitually sicker and sicker (years later we would discover we are all allergic to pine trees and half of us are allergic to the gluten and sulphites in the cookies we were scarfing down), baking a kajillion cookies (extra sulphites added), playing the Nutcracker Suite and Holiday Classics records (I'm old, get over it.) and the Midnight Mass cassette tapes (see, not that old).  I clearly remember the excitement we felt on Christmas Eve, tucked in our beds, when no one was stirring, not even a...oh, wait, no.  My mom was definitely up.  Filling stockings, finishing icing the Christmas Stollen bread and making sure there were tater tots for the eggy casserole goodness that passed as our only non-sugar food source until the turkey dinner.

why, yes, the 154 million feet of lighted garland is a pain to fluff and wrap around the banisters. but totally worth it.

We didn't "do" Santa.  My dad had the traumatic experience, as a lad of five, of hiding behind the wing back chair in the living room, to catch Santa and discovering it was his mother putting the presents under the tree.  It was 1950 and Christmas was a sham and his mother a liar.  He started drinking heavily and doubting the existence of God or something along those lines.  So, yeah, we never "did" Santa in our house.

our school does a Kindergarten Polar Express parade every year.  the parents have to make a train car out of a box for their youngling.  this was one of the dodgiest, most slap dash cars there.  people in this town need to get a life.
My family now-a-days don't "do" Santa either.  For many and various reasons that I'm not really interested in debating.  Seriously, immediately following religion and politics, nothing gets people more het up than voicing your views on the jolly old elf.  I think it's really what started WW2.  Poland was all "Santa's the real deal.  You're all killing the magic of Christmas." and Hitler was all "Oh yeah?  Well, the Easter Bunny's a sham too!" and then there was much bloodshed.

Four Little Birds.  Making light of history's darkest hours since 2010.

he was known for his excellent finger strength due to strenuous daily digit exercises.

Anywho, we have shared the real story of Saint Nicholas with our kiddos.  So they know who he is.  And they have been threatened with all kinds of wrath should they utter the truth to any other children.  We have explained that some parents like to "play" Santa with their kids and it's not up to us to interfere.

Last Christmas an older gentleman, standing in line with us at the grocery store checkout, asked Neill (then four) if Santa was coming to his house.  Neill gave him an impatient look and said "Of course not!  Santa's DEAD."

Needless to say, the elderly gentleman looked at me like I had just clubbed a sack of baby seals to death.


My parents didn't need Santa to make Christmas magical.  You know, it really is true that you don't understand how much your parents did for you growing up until you are a parent.  Christmas wasn't magical all on it's own.  My parents made it magical.  They instilled the traditions.  They spent time with us and allowed us to be involved in all the excitement and celebration of our Savior's birth.  They climbed step ladders in the cold to hang big, colored lights on the house (which I still think are pure, unspeakable delight), they spent weeks staying up well past midnight to sew little dresses for our dolls and fairy ballet costumes for us.  And it was all wrapped up and surrounded by what Sufjan Stevens calls "that creepy Christmas feeling".  That other-worldly, Word-become-flesh, God incarnate thing that transports us all from our comfortable suburban reality into a stable where an inexperienced teen girl and a nervous carpenter somehow delivered God himself safely into the world, screaming and covered in amniotic fluid.

"my mother leaves me on the floor under the tree. but aren't I adorable?"

The story of Jesus' birth is very intentional in our celebration of Christmas.  We enjoy our advent calender.  Each day yields a chocolate treat and a couple verses from the first two chapters of the book of Luke.  Candy and scripture is often paired together in my house.  After all, in Biblical times they would give children pieces of honeycomb for memorizes parts of the Torah.  It's ok to teach your children that the Word of God yields good things in our lives.

Every year my kids "help" decorate the tree (admittedly fake. allergies, you know).  They usually hang a couple ornaments and then wander off to play a computer game or spill something sticky.  This year though, they hung every ornament.  Every. German. Hand. Blown. Glass. Ornament.  It was terrifying.  There was such speed and excitement and loudness.  And yet, not a single ornament was broken.  See?  Existence of God proven.


And I am proud of myself.  Because I let them do it and I decided that even if one broke, it wouldn't be the end of the world.  Or even that important.  unless it was the cuckoo clock or the giant mushroom or the bluebird or the weird toadstool gnome guy.

And after they went to bed, I moved half the ornaments up north.  And hid the pickle deep in the branches at the back of the tree.  On Christmas Eve, they go searching for it and whoever finds it gets a little prize.  Usually a forgotten chocolate from a missed day in the advent calender or something equally lame.  I'm only one woman here, people.

every year we have a little snowflake cutting party on the first cold night of winter.

We also make a lot of cookies.  This year I've made one batch regular and a half a batch gluten and dairy free of my favorite recipes.  And so, as a little week before Christmas gift, I will leave you with my recipe for Chocolate Candy Cane Crackles, gluten and dairy free!

yeah, they kinda look like poo, but trust me, they are SOOO delicious.

Chocolate Candy Cane Crackles

Ingredients:
1 1/4 c. rice flour (or preferred gluten free flour, fine flour works best)
1/2 c. unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 c. Earth Balance vegan margarine
1/3 c. l. brown sugar, packed
1/3 c. sugar
1 large egg
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla
8 oz. candy canes, finely crushed

Directions:
1. Preheat oven 350*.  Grease cookie sheet
2. Combine flour, cocoa powder, baking soda and salt. Whisk to combine until thoroughly mixed.
3. Combine butter and sugars. Cream. Add egg and vanilla, beat to combine.
4. With mixer on low, spoon in dry ingredients; mix to combine. Add crushed candy, mix until evenly combined.
5. Spoon dough into 1" scoops. Place 3" apart and flatten slightly. Bake 10-12 min.
6. Remove sheet from oven and immediately use a metal spatula to neaten any edges where any candy may have melted out. Let cookies cool for 5 minutes on sheet.  Transfer to waxed paper or wire cooling rack.  Makes 4 dozen.

Thanks for the early Christmas present, husband!  I love being able to listen to Pandora through real! speakers while I bake.

Merry Soon-To-Be Christmas!

Saturday, September 10, 2011

A Little More "Me"

(Pardon the mess.  Redecorating in process..)

I've mentioned before how much I detest the faux finish in our living/dining room.  It has been a thorn in my side for two and a half years.  That's way too long.  Don't mock my pain.  It's very real.

I mean, check this out:


What color is that?  I named it Effervescent Poopstain. 


Well, we finally got permission from the landlord to paint.   My mom was there in about five seconds with her painting clothes on and yards of plastic drop cloths.

And thanks to her and my sister, Jenny, this is now the beauty I get to daily behold:


Bask.


These bookcases are totally on their way out.  They were like 20 bucks at Target ten years ago.  On the lookout for super cool/vintage bookcases to paint!





I adore it.  Before the walls were painted I had begun to question my decorating style.  I was all maybe I don't know what I'm doing with my decor.  But now, I'm like THIS is what I was doing!  It makes sense!

The next project to be conquered was the nursery.  First we kicked the 33-year-old out.  Seriously, we love you, Megan. We also got permission to paint these walls!  Wahoo!  Once again, Mom came with her plastic drop cloths and paint rollers and painted the heck out of that nursery. 







Yep, cat's outta the bag!  This is bubba's name.




I also finally finished the bedding.  I am soo pleased with the outcome!




We got the stroller and car seat and the baby shower is next weekend!  I am almost 37 weeks so this is all a bit by the skin of our teeth!  But as of next Sunday, baby can come!


Linky-linky!