OK my bored friends, I'm back for more mindless table talk.
The crazy references are tongue in cheek. Sort of. I don't make light of mental illness, but in editing all the photos I snapped of the steps taken in refinishing this table, and trying to find the words to explain my thought process, it occurred to me how for lack of a better word, crazy I get about decorating.
It is an obsession. An addiction. It consumes much thought, much energy, much time.
Like someone addicted to drugs awakens thinking of their next fix. I wake thinking of what I can work on today. What can I paint. What can I rearrange. What can I tweak....
Recently I read a post at The Shabby Nest that really spoke volumes to me. It gave me a little validation about my constant decorating and redecorating. Go read it. I'll wait.
........
Back already. What did you think?
Here's what I took away, and for me it was HUGE.
I can not sing. I am not a dancer. I am not athletic. I can not draw.
I can paint. I can sew. I can fluff and make my home pretty. It is my talent. It is what I do well and why would I do it once and be done?
Does a singer sing one song? Does an artist paint one painting? Would an athlete be fulfilled if they only threw one ball or ran one race? No.
They study, they train, they practice to improve their craft.
Making pretty is my craft. It is my talent and my light.
I don't mean that in a vain way. I'm saying, I get a sense of fulfilment and accomplishment when I start with and idea or a vision and with my hands (and sometimes with Mitch's hands) I can see it to completion.
It's how I let my little light shine.
Sometimes it takes a while to feel like my light is really shining, and not flickering.
The table, well let's just say my light has had a short in the wires.
For the legs, I decided on a distressed look. That's the shortened abridged version- let's just leave it at that.
Once inside, my craziness continued. It never ends. Never even sleeps. It's exhausting...
Table with bench and turquoise chairs.
Oh, the bench was a little side job while I worked on the table. It was built by my uncle Keith when Mitch and I were first married.
Over the years it has been black and white. I didn't remember it being white, but as I stripped it I found a layer of white. A happy finding. I left a bit of the white.
The seat of the bench needs to be darker.
Didn't really like that look. Move the chairs.
And add some fake apples.
Still don't like it.
How about the black chairs, from the dining room? Hmmm... better. Still not there.
How about another bench. Another uncle Keith made bench.
Getting there. I think I like it.
It will do for now.
Until I can wax the table legs and darken the seat of the bench.
And I should probably get the old table out of the kitchen.
