The Projects

A couple of years ago, if someone had been able to predict that I'd become slightly obsessed with the proper application of paint, I would have been incredulous.  But I have since learned how lovely new paint makes old things.

Casie's desk

This was my brother's desk in high school.  It was stained dark brown.  I painted it for my cousin Casie, with hopes that the study vibes from the 1990s could translate into something good for the 2010s.

My father's chair

This is where my father would sit and drink coffee.  This spot is also where he left his body when he went to Heaven.  I asked my mother if I could repaint the chair, which she bought in 1982 for a party my parents hosted.  The paint was chipped and the chair was rusting, so she gave the go-ahead as long as I painted it and it's companion a soft yellow.

First try with the Dremel

I discovered my dad had a Dremel tool.  I refer to the backyard as the memorial garden, since it's where my father spent a lot of time and where he died.  I made the name official.

Little red wagon in a new outfit

My brother received this red wagon as a gift on his 5th birthday.  He is now 35.  The wagon needed some help.

Before the restoration

I spent over an hour online trying to find a Western Flyer decal that could match the original.  No luck.  I also found the Dremel tool after I had painted the wagon--it would have been handy in the rust removal process.

Leaves of grass

The flower beds, the grass and the dog are projects at that are never ending.  The dog as a project?  Yes.  She's in declining health and requires care that is time-consuming.

Special box

In one of my favorite films, The Fall, one of the main characters has a box that she carries filled with special things.  I had a stationery box that I wanted to turn into my special box.  At first, I thought it was too busy--now I think it's something William Morris could be proud of.

What was and is to come

In a visionary passion, I decided to try to restore my paternal grandmother's desk, which has been in my father's outside shed for over 25 years.  A friend helped me start to remove the veneer and I damaged the plywood on the top surface.  She asked me, "Are you sure you want to do this?"  I was (and still am) sure, and said, "God has given me a vision of what this is going to look like when it's done."  I'm glad that I have the mental picture because I know I'm going to need it to see me through.  Most of the drawers need some repair and the veneer is still stuck on in some parts.  My hope is that paint, like love, will cover a multitude of flaws.